The Forged Note. Micheaux Oscar
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Название: The Forged Note
Автор: Micheaux Oscar
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066499020
isbn:
"Extraordinary, excellent, I should say," her brother smiled. "Where does she find such good customers?"
"I work among the women in domestic service," Mildred explained. Wilson looked surprised.
"Indeed! And do you find many readers among them? You have not been to many of the teachers?"
"I have, yes; but they do not seem to take much interest in work by Negroes, so far as I have been able to gather. I could not say for sure, of course not; but I do find the women in service, in great numbers, to be fond of reading and full of race pride. Of course, there are multitudes of ignorant ones who are not capable of appreciating literature and its value as moral uplift, but, as a whole, I am highly successful."
Wilson Jacobs was greatly moved by his first conversation with Mildred, and found himself thinking about her more than once in the days that followed. His sister became so deeply interested in her, that after a week had passed, she had taken up the work also.
"Do you ever play, Miss Latham?" inquired Constance a few days afterward, and late one afternoon, when they had returned from their work.
"A little," Mildred admitted. "But it has been so long since I have touched a key, that I am sure I should be very awkward if I attempted it. I think you play nicely."
The other laughed. "I only play when I am quite sure no one is likely to hear me. There is one piece I can play, and of which I am very fond. I heard you humming it the other day. As soon as the parlor is 'comfy,' I shall ask you to condescend to listen to me play it."
"What piece is that? Please tell me," Mildred inquired.
"Sweet Genevieve."
"Oh, yes...."
"Why, what is the matter, dearest?" cried Constance, hurrying toward her.
"Nothing, nothing!" said the other, hastily mopping her nose and eyes.
"Well, I'm relieved, but I thought I heard you sob, but of course you didn't. Of course not. Really, I begin to feel that if I don't get married soon, I'll become a nervous, cranky old maid."
"Please don't say such things about yourself," entreated Mildred. "You were not mistaken. I did—ah—I sobbed—I mean I coughed. I had something in my throat," she concluded nervously.
"I'm relieved," smiled the other, and, going to the piano, she struck the keys, and sang in a high contralto voice:
"O, Genevieve, I'd give the world
To live again the lovely past!
The rose of youth was dew-impearled;
But now it withers in the blast.
I see thy face in every dream,
My waking thoughts are full of thee;
Thy glance is in the starry beam
That falls along the summer sea."
It was in the small hours of the morning when Mildred Latham's eyes closed in sleep. All the night through, the strains of Sweet Genevieve and what it recalled, tortured her memory, until it was from sheer fatigue that she did at last fall asleep.
She hoped Constance would play Sweet Genevieve no more.
CHAPTER TEN
"DO SOMETHING AND YOU'LL FIND OUT"
In Attalia, there is a street which includes all that goes with Ethiopian. It is called Dalton street, and along its narrow way—for it is narrow, and one of the oldest streets in the city—occurs much that is deplorable.
On this selfsame street, an incident took place, in which Sidney Wyeth happened to figure as more than the casual observer.
It was in late afternoon of a cold wet day. He had been delivering books, and had a considerable amount of the proceeds of the delivery in his pockets, when, while on the way to the office, he chanced to be passing down this street. He looked up, and found himself before a large, odd appearing structure. A uniformed man stood at the front, and, in passing, Wyeth paused a moment, took in the proportions of the building with a critical gaze, and inquired of the man what it was.
The other looked at him with an expression which seemed to say: "You ought to know!" But grinning, he replied:
"Do something and you'll damn quick find out! It's the police station."
"M-m-m-m! You wouldn't be likely to find out if you didn't, I suppose," he laughed, as he continued on his way.
During Sidney Wyeth's bachelor life on the Rosebud, he had been a victim of the habit of going to town, and loafing the night through, occasionally. There had, in the beginning, been a great deal of gambling there, and to watch this was an absorbing pastime. It served, also, as he then felt, as a diversion to break the monotony of his lonesome life.
Now there were places—if not gambling dens—in Attalia also, where one could loaf at night. When his correspondence was completed that evening, he felt a "Call of the Wild" in his blood, and went forth on a pilgrimage of this kind. In company with a chauffeur, he left for his room about one thirty A.M. the following morning. They had not, however, gone far before the clouds had gathered. They didn't see the clouds—at first—but the clouds saw them. They happened to be a pair of meddlesome bull-cops. It has been stated that the hour was about one thirty, but the cops said two. Moreover, they wished to know what business occasioned two young men to be out at such an hour.
Sidney felt slightly insulted, and stepped aside to let them by, thereby wishing to avoid any argument. The cops stepped aside also, but to see that they did not get too far out of the way. Said one—and he was the burliest—"Well, boys, where have you been?" "Where have we been?" said Wyeth, to himself. "Now wouldn't that frost you!" What business of these men was it? They had positively not been acting suspicious, nor were they seen fighting, and neither were they drunk. So, then, what right had two burley cops to get in the way, and ask such impertinent questions. Sidney felt like making an indignant reply, he felt like fighting; then he did some quick thinking, and decided to be patient, answering the questions in an offhand way, and so be on his way, for he felt sleepy. And then, again, he observed that they wore great big sticks, with which they toyed idly, as they waited for reply.
"Aw, knocking around." It was Wyeth who made this reply.
"Aw, knockin' 'roun'," said the big cop, who had now grown ugly in the sight of Wyeth, and he repeated this mockingly. And now spoke the chauffeur, who had grown up in those parts. He was diplomatic. Said he:
"I'm jes' gettin' off frum we'k, cap'n," and despite his look of truth and sincerity, he trembled perceptibly.
Sidney observed him with a touch of disgust.
"Is that so-o?" said the cop, more sneeringly now than ever. Sidney had enough, СКАЧАТЬ