urged, “Now, look heah, Peter, come along an' eat yo' supper.”
“No, I really need a walk. I won't walk through Niggertown. I'll walk out in the woods.”
“I jes made some salmon coquettes fuh you whut'll spile ef you don' eat 'em now.”
“I didn't know you were making croquettes,” said Peter, with polite interest.
“Well, I is. I gotta can o' salmon fum Miss Mollie Brownell she'd opened an' couldn't quite use. I doctered 'em up wid a lil vinegar an' sody, an' dey is 'bout as pink as dey ever wuz.”
A certain uneasiness and annoyance came over Peter at this persistent use of unwholesome foods.
“Look here, Mother, you're not using old canned goods that have been left over?”
The old negress stood looking at him in silence, but lost her coaxing expression.
“I've told and told you about using any tainted or impure foods that the white people can't eat.”
“Well, whut ef you is?”
“If it's too bad for them, it's too bad for you!”
Caroline made a careless gesture.
“Good Lawd, boy! I don' 'speck to eat whut's good fuh me! All I says is, 'Grub, keep me alive. Ef you do dat, you done a good day's wuck.'”
Peter was disgusted and shocked at his mother's flippancy. Modern colleges are atheistic, but they do exalt three gods,—food, cleanliness, and exercise.
