Mr. Blair had a remarkable opportunity to display his quality the next
day, for the old lady had another of her “attacks.” He at once assumed a
position of authority. He sat by her bedside making the most
professional enquiries, and establishing boundless confidence by his
graveness and his assurance. When the doctor arrived, he met him as a
colleague, conferred secretly with him, gave his own opinion and
listened with professional courtesy to that of the other. Then went out
to the stable to comfort Minnie.
“It is not immediately serious,” he told her; “I studied medicine for
some time, and I understand these things.”
He not only comforted Minnie, but he helped her in material ways. He was
very “handy,” somewhat in her own manner. That is, he had a certain
manual facility, and was very easily satisfied: he didn’t require his
“jobs” either to look well or to wear well. He was of a most domestic
disposition. He really enjoyed sitting in the kitchen and peeling
potatoes while he talked; he even swept the parlour with wet tea leaves.
He put up shelves and hooks, convenient although not quite trustworthy;
he carried the old lady’s trays upstairs, made the coffee for breakfast
after a scientific method which required a large amount of coffee and
took quite half an hour; he looked after the fire night and morning; did
everything except the literary work he had come there to do.
It appeared that he had not yet begun this literary career; he had been,
he said, a business man, but his health had failed, and he had decided
to earn his bread by his pen. In a series of special articles on
America’s Industries. He had planned them all meticulously, the twelve
articles, with their titles, sub-titles, number of words in each, and
the space that was to be occupied by photographs. Only he had not as yet
written a single sentence.
His health was deceptive; no one would have suspected him of being so
broken-down, except for a lassitude that was almost incredible. He ate
very well, and slept well, and was always cheerful; still it was
necessary for him to take a tonic, a “heart medicine,” and a “digestive
stimulant.” Every morning he read the newspaper thoroughly from end to
end, then, after he had helped Minnie with the housework, he sat. Not
reading, simply sitting, in the sun, if there were any, but always by a
window, for he liked to see anything that passed.
The relations between him and Minnie were curious. She knew that he
admired her; he often said so, and she exhibited a very discreet
complacence toward his compliments. She was, as always, impersonal,
detached, with an agreeableness difficult to misunderstand. She was
considerate and pleasant toward him, just as she was toward her
grandmother--or toward Thomas Washington. What she really thought of him
no one knew, but Mr. Blair, with characteristic simplicity, was sure
that she was well-disposed toward him, if not something more....
He was a Southerner, and a mighty consequential one. He believed that he
understood women, that his gallantry, learning and courtliness combined
could not fail to conquer. Even the hard fact that he made no headway
did not disconcert him. He knew it was impossible for him to fail.
It was not long before his too affectionate disposition became evident.
He wanted to take Minnie’s hand and pat it, or even put an arm about her
waist in a fatherly way. Dalliance, however, had no part in Minnie’s
life; it was not one of her weaknesses, and she discouraged him pretty
brusquely. Or rather, tried to discourage him. After a rebuff he would
stroll over to Thomas Washington’s cottage and bargain to be taken into
the village in Thomas’s Ford. Thomas, in spite of his dignity, was not
above a certain pride in being seen talking confidentially with a white
man; he almost always accommodated him. And Mr. Blair would buy things
for Minnie and the old lady and come cheerfully home again. They
couldn’t help being pleased, they had so very few pleasures. They would
all sit in the old lady’s room, eating the ice-cream he had brought and,
of course, listening to him. Only when he recurred to the subject of
Thomas Washington and his race did they become restive. They disagreed
with him strongly. In the first place, they didn’t at all like the word
“nigger.” Then, his opinions, boiled down, amounted simply to this: that
“niggers” were created simply for the convenience of Southern whites,
that it was impudent and radical and altogether harmful to Southern
industry for Northerners to have them in their country at all; that no
one but a Southerner knew anything about them, had any right to their
services, or could possibly get on with them. He and he alone knew how
to “handle” Thomas Washington--that is, to exploit him. He did not think
it necessary to tell them that he had to pay well for any favour
received from Thomas. He wanted them to think that he stood in place of
the Lord to that family--that the Washingtons, young and old, couldn’t
help adoring and respecting his Southernness. But Minnie and the old
lady knew Thomas too well.
A great triumph for Minnie was the showing of this boarder to Mr.
Petersen. He had said that she couldn’t get one! He came in one
afternoon and she presented them to each other, carefully watching the
Swedish countenance for some sort of chagrin. Useless; he smiled his
slow smile and held out a huge paw, quite willing to sit down and
talk--or listen.