He laughed again, not affectedly, not for any audience, not even for his own audience.

* * * * *

Randy Spruce, Executive Secretary of the Grand Republic Chamber of Commerce, was a chum of Wilbur Feathering who, though born in Stote, Mississippi, on a red clay hill, was now a citizen of Minnesota and a patron of skiing, a sport which he gave the impression of having invented, though he did not actually practise it. Mr. Feathering was founder and president of “The Hot on the Spot Home Food Supply Company—hot meals in your own dinette—everything from a sandwich to a banquich—linen & silver if desired—run, rite, or fone.”

That was Wilbur Feathering. The meals were not bad, the profits were enormous, and he was popular throughout Grand Republic except among people who did not like race-hatred or noises of the mouth.

He had been useful in giving ideas to the Chamber of Commerce, and Randy Spruce often said, “I often say a man in my position as a professional booster of all forward-looking enterprises and the American Way of Life has ideas as his chief stock in trade. I make a practice of not merely reading the magazines and listening to all the round-tables on the radio, but I am not above taking suggestions from the humblest—as I often say, like a Polack or a union member.”

Randy was glad to have from one of the Featherings of Stote the Real Lowdown on the Negro Problem.

The benefit of this Lowdown was felt second-hand by Neil, when Randy and he served on a committee of nine to arrange a citywide welcome to the returning veterans.

Randy was fretting, “Of course there’s quite a few nigger G.I.‘s, and we got to fix it so they don’t horn in on the parade of our white heroes.”

“Couldn’t the black veterans be heroes, too?” suggested Dr. Norman Kamber.

“Hell, no!” Randy explained. “As I often say, all the nigger troops were insubordinate and afraid of cold Steel. The high command just handed out a few decorations to ‘em to keep ‘em from mutiny, so we wouldn’t have to shoot the whole bunch. A colonel told me that. But Wilbur Feathering has a fine suggestion. We’ll cook up a separate homecoming for the zigaboos, on Mayo Street; parade and fireworks and banners and some portion of a horse like Congressman Oberg to make an oration. We’ll tell ‘em that we didn’t want to have ‘em get lost in the white shuffle, so we’re honoring ‘em special. Those niggers are so dumb they’ll believe it.”

“Are all Negroes dumb?” Neil wanted to know.

“All of ‘em!”

“What about the ones that are just part Negro?”

“My boy, as I often say, if a man has one drop of nigger blood, he’s a phony. Uncreative, that’s the idee. You don’t think a circus dog is intelligent because his owner has trained him to ride a bicycle and act drunk like a scholar, do you? That’s why no nigger can hold down a responsible position. Doc, you can call me a liar if you can show me one nigger that could be a United States Senator.”