Verne Shipman walked to the door, feeling, knowing, that a decision of considerable importance had suddenly been thrust upon him. He wasn’t used to making decisions.

“We’re going to show Caxton what’s happened in the North, what’s going to happen here, too. Like this—” The young man reached into his breast pocket, extracted a large newspaper photograph from one of the envelopes.

He put it down on the desk. “Look at it, Mr. Shipman. See how it makes you feel—even if you don’t have children.”

Verne moved to the desk and picked up the clipping. It showed a Negro soldier in the act of kissing a white girl. He stared at the photograph, then threw it back onto the desk.

“That’s what’s coming,” the visitor said, “if we don’t put a stop to it now. That, and a lot more.”

“Do you have a working list?” he asked in a businesslike voice, after a long pause.

“Not yet,” the young man said.

“Go to the Farragut County Federation for Constitutional Government, upstairs, next to the Reo Theatre. Find Bart Carey and tell him to phone me.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I’m not promising a goddamn thing, mister. So far you’ve made noise; good noise, but not much else. I don’t think you’ll get a penny out of this town for any organization of any kind, frankly. Unions aren’t popular in Caxton. But Bart Carey has a list of parents with school kids. If you can get them to go along with you, even for five hundred, I’ll—be willing to lend a hand.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Okay. Now when do you think you’re going to have this thing rolling?”

The young man smiled. “The money will be pledged before midnight tomorrow, Mr. Shipman. And at least a hundred and fifty new members of SNAP.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? I tell you what—you drop by the courthouse at seven-thirty tomorrow night. Just take a little drive into town, and drop by. I understand there’s going to be some kind of a meeting.”

The visitor took another sheet of paper from his pocket.

“Meanwhile,” he said, “you might look this over.”

Shipman took the paper, walked with the young man to the door, shook hands.

Then he went back into the library and sat down. He unfolded the paper, saw the large heading: Integration of Negroes with Whites Unconstitutional!! and read the smaller print carefully.

He read it three times.

And each time he read it, his heart beat a little faster.

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