"They stewed and deplored, became indignant, and all that; but the truth cannot be played with. With all the noise that followed the publication of the article, conscience became a burden. They knew to the last one, that Sidney Wyeth had written the truth, and nothing but the truth. And, thanks to God, there were enough good people to say, when the demagogues were decrying it, that it was the truth. So now, in this city, where times are hard, and many people are out of work; but with plenty of time to think it over, there is in evidence a decided change, and it is my opinion, that next summer will see this new idea put into effect--at least started." "So, Mr. Wyeth has located permanently here?" she inquired, after a pause. "Oh, no," he replied quickly. "I had become so stirred, when I recalled how much life and appreciation that article of his had inspired in the order of existence about here, that I forgot to say that Mr. Wyeth has left the city. In fact, he left the city immediately after the appearance of the article." She caught her breath, and swallowed with surprise and disappointment. He had left the city. Where had he gone to? She was afraid to inquire. But Jones was speaking again, and saved her the embarrassment of inquiring. "Yes, he left a day or so afterward. He is not likely to locate in the south. And, moreover, his mission in these parts is not, I am sure, one of locating or hunting a location. He appears to be one seeking the truth about our people." He told her of Wyeth's departure to the creole city, and then, obviously anxious to unload his burden of opinions, to which she listened with patient interest, he continued: "I am of the opinion that he will write a book on these conditions in the near future. And, if it compares with his article and carries a romance interwoven, it will meet with public appreciation. He always spoke of his home out west with much longing, and I suppose that the atmosphere out there must be of the progressive spirit, which makes a difference when one is forced to tolerate the conditions of sluggishness down here." "How are the people here on Christian forward work?" she asked. "They had never thought of such a thing until Wyeth wrote the article, and it was the same in regard to a library and a park. You see, Madam, it has been like this," he explained: "Our people have been in the habit of accepting everything (when it came to uplift) from the white people as a matter of course, never letting it worry them, as far as their own efforts were concerned. Then, again, what few books have been written, with some exceptions (novels especially, and of which our race has produced but few) have dealt with the Negro as a poor, persecuted character, deserving everybody's sympathy. In some manner, the authors have been either careful to avoid his more inherent traits, or they were so fired with their subject matter, that they forgot it.