Bles Alwyn was seated in the anteroom of Senator Smith's office in
Washington. The Senator had not come in yet, and there were others
waiting, too.
The young man sat in a corner, dreaming. Washington was his first great
city, and it seemed a never-ending delight--the streets, the buildings,
the crowds; the shops, and lights, and noise; the kaleidoscopic panorama
of a world's doing, the myriad forms and faces, the talk and laughter of
men. It was all wonderful magic to the country boy, and he stretched his
arms and filled his lungs and cried: "Here I shall live!"
Especially was he attracted by his own people. They seemed transformed,
revivified, changed. Some might be mistaken for field hands on a
holiday--but not many. Others he did not recognize--they seemed strange
and alien--sharper, quicker, and at once more overbearing and more
unscrupulous.
There were yet others--and at the sight of these Bles stood straighter
and breathed like a man. They were well dressed, and well appearing men
and women, who walked upright and looked one in the eye, and seemed like
persons of affairs and money. They had arrived--they were men--they
filled his mind's ideal--he felt like going up to them and grasping
their hands and saying, "At last, brother!" Ah, it was good to find
one's dreams, walking in the light, in flesh and blood. Continually such
thoughts were surging through his brain, and they were rioting through
it again as he sat waiting in Senator Smith's office.
The Senator was late this morning; when he came in he glanced at the
morning paper before looking over his mail and the list of his callers.
"Do fools like the American people deserve salvation?" he sneered,
holding off the headlines and glancing at them.
"'League Beats Trust.' ... 'Farmers of South Smash Effort to Bear Market
... Send Cotton to Twelve Cents ... Common People Triumph.'
"A man is induced to bite off his own nose and then to sing a pæan of
victory. It's nauseating--senseless. There is no earthly use striving
for such blockheads; they'd crucify any Saviour." Thus half consciously
Senator Smith salved his conscience, while he extracted a certificate of
deposit for fifty thousand dollars from his New York mail. He thrust it
aside from his secretary's view and looked at his list as he rang the
bell: there was Representative Todd, and somebody named Alwyn--nobody of
importance. Easterly was due in a half-hour. He would get rid of Todd
meantime.
"Poor Todd," he mused; "a lamb for the slaughter."
But he patiently listened to him plead for party support and influence
for his bill to prohibit gambling in futures.
"I was warned that it was useless to see you, Senator Smith, but I would
come. I believe in you. Frankly, there is a strong group of your old
friends and followers forming against you; they met only last night, but
I did not go. Won't you take a stand on some of these progressive
matters--this bill, or the Child Labor movement, or Low Tariff
legislation?"
Mr. Smith listened but shook his head.
"When the time comes," he announced deliberately, "I shall have
something to say on several of these matters. At present I can only say
that I cannot support this bill," and Mr. Todd was ushered out. He met
Mr. Easterly coming in and greeted him effusively. He knew him only as a
rich philanthropist, who had helped the Neighborhood Guild in
Washington--one of Todd's hobbies.
Easterly greeted Smith quietly.
"Got my letter?"
"Yes."
"Here are the three bills. You will go on the Finance Committee
tomorrow; Sumdrich is chairman by courtesy, but you'll have the real
power. Put the Child Labor Bill first, and we'll work the press. The
Tariff will take most of the session, of course. We'll put the cotton
inspection bill through in the last days of the session--see? I'm
manoeuvring to get the Southern Congressmen into line.... Oh, one thing.
Thompson says he's a little worried about the Negroes; says there's
something more than froth in the talk of a bolt in the Northern Negro
vote. We may have to give them a little extra money and a few more minor
offices than usual. Talk with Thompson; the Negroes are sweet on you and
he's going to be the new chairman of the campaign, you know. Ever met
him?"
"Yes."
"Well--so long."
"Just a moment," the statesman stayed the financier.
"Todd just let fall something of a combination against us in
Congress--know anything of it?"
"Not definitely; I heard some rumors. Better see if you can run it down.
Well, I must hurry--good day."
While Bles Alwyn in the outer office was waiting and musing, a lady
came in. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the curve of her gown,
and as she seated herself beside him, the suggestion of a faint perfume.
A vague resentment rose in him. Colored women would look as well as
that, he argued, with the clothes and wealth and training. He paused,
however, in his thought: he did not want them like the whites--so cold
and formal and precise, without heart or marrow. He started up, for the
secretary was speaking to him.
"Are you the--er--the man who had a letter to the Senator?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let me see it. Oh, yes--he will see you in a moment."
Bles was returning the letter to his pocket when he heard a voice almost
at his ear.
"I beg your pardon--"
He turned and started. It was the lady next to him, and she was colored!
Not extremely colored, but undoubtedly colored, with waving black hair,
light brown skin, and the fuller facial curving of the darker world. And
yet Bles was surprised, for everything else about her--her voice, her
bearing, the set of her gown, her gloves and shoes, the whole impression
was--Bles hesitated for a word--well, "white."
"Yes--yes, ma'am," he stammered, becoming suddenly conscious that the
lady had now a second time asked him if he was acquainted with Senator
Smith. "That is, ma'am,"--why was he saying "ma'am," like a child or a
servant?--"I know his sister and have a letter for him."
"Do you live in Washington?" she inquired.
"No--but I want to. I've been trying to get in as a clerk, and I haven't
succeeded yet. That's what I'm going to see Senator Smith about."
"Have you had the civil-service examinations?"
"Yes. I made ninety-three in the examination for a treasury clerkship."
"And no appointment? I see--they are not partial to us there."