The young man smiled, winningly. “That’s a good attitude, Mr. McDaniel. Where I come from—”

“Where is that, by the way?”

“Los Angeles. There, I mean, the parents usually don’t give a darn where their children go. Or what they do. I admire that quality in you, and after I talked with Ella, with Miss McDaniel, I sensed it. That’s why I insisted on coming over so you could get a look at me.”

“We still don’t know anything about you,” Tom said.

“Well,” Adam laughed, “I’m twenty-six, which I guess is old compared to Ella; but it’s fairly young to most people. I’m a white American, Norwegian stock. And like I said, I’m in, you might say, social work. I’ll be living in Caxton for quite a while, so I thought it would be nice to make a few friends. Frankly, sir, I’d hoped your daughter could tell me a little about the town, maybe show me some of it.”

“In the dark?” Tom asked.

“Sure,” Ella said, winking. “We’re going to use a flashlight.”

Ruth McDaniel’s face assumed an expression of composure; at any rate, the apprehension was gone. “Would you care for a cup of coffee, Mr. Cramer?” she said.

“I’d love one.”

Tom glanced at Ella. “Kitten, why don’t you go and wash your face or press your dress or something. Mr. Cramer and I are going to chat a little.”

Ella said, “Okay. But the movie starts at 8:17.”

The visitor’s relaxed manner seemed to reassure Tom. He motioned­ him to the couch.

“Let’s be honest with one another, young man. Why are you calling people up, going through all this funny routine?”

“That’s simple enough to answer, sir. We’re on limited funds, and I felt—the organization felt—that it would be better to get a sort of cross-section of opinion before attempting any work.”

“How many calls did you make?”

“About twenty.”

“And what did you find out?”

“That the people are against integration, Mr. McDaniel. Dead-set against it.”

“Goddamn right!” Gramp rose from his chair nimbly and walked over.

“This is my father-in-law, Mr. Parkinson,” Tom said. “Gramp, Adam Cramer.”

“I talked with you yesterday, boy. Didn’t think you was so young.”

“Well—”

“But I liked what you said, now, I’ll tell you that. It don’t take no campaign to find out what the people think in Caxton, though. They hate the idea. But they’re too goddamn wishy-washy to do anything about it.”

“Gramp.”

“It’s a fact, Tom, and you know it. Tom here isn’t no different either.”

“I’m sure you must be wrong, sir. Mr. McDaniel, I understand, carried out quite an extensive campaign in his paper.”

Gramp laughed wetly. “Shit,” he said. “A bunch of words. Take it easy, he says, don’t rush, and all that kind of horse-hockey.”