“Perhaps the trouble is simply that there’s been no organized effort made. Wouldn’t you say that, Mr. McDaniel?”

Tom shook his head. “No. We pulled every string there was, but it didn’t work out. Those Negroes are going to school, starting tomorrow, and we might as well get used to it.”

“I can’t agree, sir,” Adam Cramer said. “The Society of National­ American Patriots has, if you don’t mind my saying it, a little clearer picture of things; after all, we’re not right in the middle of it, if you know what I mean. And we’ve devised a number of methods which only involve the co-operation of the people. You’re not licked yet, Mr. McDaniel.”

Gramp’s eyes shone brightly. “You probably mean good, sonny, but it’s gonna be like coaxing a bear out of hibernation.”

“I think I understand, sir. Still, you mustn’t underestimate folks. Almost everyone on earth would sleep till noon if somebody didn’t wake them up.”

“And that’s what you’re going to do?” Tom asked quietly. “Wake us up?”

“We hope to be able to present the issues as they really are and show how they can be beaten.”

“Mr. Cramer,” Tom said, “you probably know that school starts tomorrow. By all rights, Ella should stay home and get some rest.”

Ruth looked at Tom meaningfully.

“Dear,” she said, “you must remember, Ella’s no child any more. I honestly do think she deserves to go out; after all, she’s been working in that drugstore every night, or practically every night, for months.”

Tom glanced from the young man to Gramp to Ruth, finally to Ella. Coldly he said, “Very well. But, Mr. Cramer, I want her back by ten thirty, do you understand that?”

Tom and Ruth watched them get into the four-year-old rental Chevrolet sedan, watched until the car had backed out of the driveway and was out of sight.

Then Ruth said, “Why don’t you like him, Tom?”

“I think he’s too old for Ella. She’s just a kid.”

“You call twenty-six old?”

“Yes, I do.”

Tom sighed and started for the easy chair in the corner. Gramp stopped him. “That fella’s got some piss and vinegar in his blood, Tom McDaniel, you know that? That’s why you don’t like him.”

“Not necessarily,” Tom said.

“ ‘Not necessarily,’ ” the old man mimicked. “You don’t fool nobody, Tom. Nobody. You’re just worried now he might show Ella what a spineless fool her father really is!”

Ruth stamped her foot. “Dad, for heaven’s sake, will you stop talking that way! Please.”

“This is America,” the old man said defiantly. “A body has a right to speak his mind.”

“What mind?” Tom slumped into the easy chair and picked up a copy of the Farragut Courier.