A forlorn woman went along a
lighted avenue. The street was
filled with people desperately
bound on missions. An endless
crowd darted at the elevated
station stairs and the horse
cars were thronged with owners
of bundles.
The pace of the forlorn woman
was slow. She was apparently
searching for some one. She loitered
near the doors of saloons and
watched men emerge from them.
She scanned furtively the faces
in the rushing stream of pedestrians.
Hurrying men, bent on catching
some boat or train, jostled her
elbows, failing to notice her,
their thoughts fixed on distant
dinners.
The forlorn woman had a peculiar
face. Her smile was no smile.
But when in repose her features
had a shadowy look that was like
a sardonic grin, as if some one
had sketched with cruel forefinger
indelible lines about her mouth.
Jimmie came strolling up the
avenue. The woman encountered
him with an aggrieved air.
"Oh, Jimmie, I've been lookin'
all over fer yehs--," she began.
Jimmie made an impatient gesture
and quickened his pace.
"Ah, don't bodder me! Good
Gawd!" he said, with the savageness
of a man whose life is pestered.
The woman followed him along
the sidewalk in somewhat the
manner of a suppliant.
"But, Jimmie," she said, "yehs
told me ye'd--"
Jimmie turned upon her fiercely
as if resolved to make a last
stand for comfort and peace.
"Say, fer Gawd's
sake, Hattie, don' foller me
from one end of
deh city teh deh odder. Let up,
will yehs! Give me a minute's
res', can't yehs? Yehs makes
me tired, allus taggin' me. See?
Ain' yehs got no sense. Do yehs
want people teh get onto me?
Go chase yerself, fer Gawd's
sake."
The woman stepped
closer and laid her fingers
on his arm. "But,
look-a-here--"
Jimmie snarled. "Oh,
go teh hell."
He darted into the front door
of a convenient saloon and a
moment later came out into the
shadows that surrounded the side
door. On the brilliantly lighted
avenue he perceived the forlorn
woman dodging about like a scout.
Jimmie laughed with an air of
relief and went away.
When he arrived home he found
his mother clamoring. Maggie
had returned. She stood shivering
beneath the torrent of her mother's
wrath.
"Well, I'm damned," said
Jimmie in greeting.
His mother, tottering about
the room, pointed a quivering
forefinger.
"Lookut her,
Jimmie, lookut her. Dere's
yer sister, boy.
Dere's yer sister. Lookut her!
Lookut her!"
She screamed in scoffing laughter.
The girl stood in the middle
of the room. She edged about
as if unable to find a place
on the floor to put her feet.
"Ha, ha, ha," bellowed the
mother. "Dere she stands! Ain'
she purty? Lookut her! Ain' she
sweet, deh beast? Lookut her!
Ha, ha, lookut her!"
She lurched forward and put
her red and seamed hands upon
her daughter's face. She bent
down and peered keenly up into
the eyes of the girl.
"Oh, she's
jes' dessame as she ever was,
ain' she? She's
her mudder's purty darlin' yit,
ain' she? Lookut her, Jimmie!
Come here, fer Gawd's sake, and
lookut her."
The loud, tremendous sneering
of the mother brought the denizens
of the Rum Alley tenement to
their doors. Women came in the
hallways. Children scurried to
and fro.
"What's up?
Dat Johnson party on anudder
tear?"
"Naw! Young
Mag's come home!"
"Deh hell yeh
say?"
Through the open door curious
eyes stared in at Maggie. Children
ventured into the room and ogled
her, as if they formed the front
row at a theatre. Women, without,
bended toward each other and
whispered, nodding their heads
with airs of profound philosophy.
A baby, overcome with curiosity
concerning this object at which
all were looking, sidled forward
and touched her dress, cautiously,
as if investigating a red-hot
stove. Its mother's voice rang
out like a warning trumpet. She
rushed forward and grabbed her
child, casting a terrible look
of indignation at the girl.
Maggie's mother paced to and
fro, addressing the doorful of
eyes, expounding like a glib
showman at a museum. Her voice
rang through the building.
"Dere she stands," she cried,
wheeling suddenly and pointing
with dramatic finger. "Dere she
stands! Lookut her! Ain' she
a dindy? An' she was so good
as to come home teh her mudder,
she was! Ain' she a beaut'? Ain'
she a dindy? Fer Gawd's sake!"
The jeering cries ended in
another burst of shrill laughter.
The girl seemed
to awaken. "Jimmie--"
He drew hastily back from her.
"Well, now, yer a hell of a
t'ing, ain' yeh?" he said, his
lips curling in scorn. Radiant
virtue sat upon his brow and
his repelling hands expressed
horror of contamination.
Maggie turned and went.
The crowd at the door fell
back precipitately. A baby falling
down in front of the door, wrenched
a scream like a wounded animal
from its mother. Another woman
sprang forward and picked it
up, with a chivalrous air, as
if rescuing a human being from
an oncoming express train.
As the girl passed down through
the hall, she went before open
doors framing more eyes strangely
microscopic, and sending broad
beams of inquisitive light into
the darkness of her path. On
the second floor she met the
gnarled old woman who possessed
the music box.
"So," she cried, "'ere
yehs are back again, are yehs?
An'
dey've kicked yehs out? Well,
come in an' stay wid me teh-night.
I ain' got no moral standin'."
From above came an unceasing
babble of tongues, over all of
which rang the mother's derisive
laughter.
|