So Sidney Wyeth had to take this man's point of view for more than one reason. Like Attalia--but worse, these people considered literature, as a whole, dead stock. More than sixty thousand in number, the demand among them for books and magazines, was insufficient to justify any one's running a place for such a purpose. It was not large enough to justify either of the Negro drug stores carrying periodicals in stock, even those that were carried by all white drug stores, excepting those in districts occupied and patronized by the colored people. And with all this, there was not the least claim for that kind of knowledge. More than a hundred churches never encouraged the people to read anything but the Bible: apparently, the obtaining of a library had not worried any but Sidney Wyeth; it has been seen how they worried over the securing of a park. Is it a wonder, with all this under his observation, that Sidney Wyeth, who came from a land where people read and thought, and had some perspective, eventually came to be regarded as a chronic critic? He had witnessed more murders than he had in all the days of his life. Having digressed to such a length, we will return now to Miss Annie Palmer, who was possessed with the ambition to be established in a home of her own, and to be seen by those who knew her. * * * * * "Just think of it, suga'," she said to the other teacher. "You can get the nicest kind of a home in the west end for a moderate sum, and only fifty or a hundred dollars down on the best of them. The rest is paid just like you pay rent, and no more." It was this, Wyeth recalled, that got them. "It cost no more than to pay rent after the first payment." "Um-um," from the other. "And the sewers, and sidewalks, and streets and lights are all there," said Wyeth kindly. "Oh, there you go for an argument," Miss Palmer retorted, angrily. Wyeth grinned. "Well, these things have all been completed to include this property...." Miss Palmer said nothing to him in reply. "And you can get it after the first payment like paying rent," commented the other teacher. "Um-m," let out Miss Palmer, sweetly. "What sweet real estate dealer offers such bargains and _easy_ things?" said Wyeth, humorously. The druggist, who knew everybody's business, had told him that Miss Palmer, at one time, was the object of every real estate shark in Effingham. And then some one lodged her in the suburbs, and since, she had been left alone. So he wondered whether it was because Miss Palmer, as a lady high in colored society, could not conveniently get such an amount together. "This man is losing his mind," she said, to the other teacher. The other now regarded Wyeth dubiously. He grinned and then said: "If you start buying, or biting on one of these _easy_ homes in the west end that you refer to, you are going to lose your head."