e left--since you burned the rest in 1865."

I had made her say what I wanted! That "you" was what I wanted. Now I
should presently have it out with her. But, for the moment, I did not
disclaim the "you." I said:--

"The burning in 1865 was horrible, but it was war."

"It was outrage."

"Yes, the same kind as England's, who burned Washington in 1812, and
whom you all so deeply admire."

She had, it seemed, no answer to this. But we trembled on the verge of a
real quarrel. It was in her voice when she said:--

"I think I interrupted you."

I pushed the risk one step nearer the verge, because of the words I
wished finally to reach. "In 1812, when England burned our White House
down, we did not sit in the ashes; we set about rebuilding."

And now she burst out. "That's not fair, that's perfectly inexcusable!
Did England then set loose on us a pack of black savages and politicians
to help us rebuild? Why, this very day I cannot walk on the other side
of the river, I dare not venture off the New Bridge; and you who first
beat us and then unleashed the blacks to riot in a new 'equality' that
they were no more fit for than so many apes, you sat back at ease in
your victory and your progress, having handed the vote to the negro as
you might have handed a kerosene lamp to a child of three, and let us
crushed, breathless people cope with the chaos and destruction that
never came near you. Why, how can you dare--" Once again, admirably she
pulled herself up as she had done when she spoke of the President.
"I mustn't!" she declared, half whispering, and then more clearly and
calmly, "I mustn't." And she shook her head as if shaking something off.
"Nor must you," she finished, charmingly and quietly, with a smile.

"I will not," I assured her. She was truly noble.

"But I did think that you understood us," she said pensively.

"Miss La Heu, when you talked to me about the President and the White
House, I said that you were hard to answer. Do you remember?"

"Perfectly. I said I was glad you found me so.'

"You helped me to understand you then, and now I want to be helped to
further understanding. Last night I heard the 'Ode for the Daughters of
Dixie.' I had a bad time listening to that."

"Do you presume to criticise it? Do we criticise your Grand Army
reunions, and your 'Marching through Georgia,' and your 'John Brown's
Body,' and your Arlington Museum? Can we not be allowed to celebrate our
heroes and our glories