She continued after a pause:
"May I venture to ask a favor of you?"
"Certainly," he responded.
"My name is Wynn," lowering her voice slightly and leaning toward him.
"There are so many ahead of me and I am in a hurry to get to my school;
but I must see the Senator--couldn't I go in with you? I think I might
be of service in this matter of the examination, and then perhaps I'd
get a chance to say a word for myself."
"I'd be very glad to have you come," said Bles, cordially.
The secretary hesitated a little when the two started in, but Miss
Wynn's air was so quietly assured that he yielded.
Senator Smith looked at the tall, straight black man with his smooth
skin and frank eyes. And for a second time that morning a vision of his
own youth dimmed his eyes. But he spoke coldly:
"Mr. Alwyn, I believe."
"Yes, sir."
"And--"
"My friend, Miss Wynn."
The Senator glanced at Miss Wynn and she bowed demurely. Then he turned
to Alwyn.
"Well, Mr. Alwyn, Washington is a bad place to start in the world."
Bles looked surprised and incredulous. He could conceive of no finer
starting-place, but he said nothing.
"It is a grave," continued the Senator, "of ambitions and ideals. You
would far better go back to Alabama"--pausing and looking at the young
man keenly--"but you won't--you won't--not yet, at any rate." And Bles
shook his head slowly.
"No--well, what can I do for you?"
"I want work--I'll do anything."
"No, you'll do one thing--be a clerk, and then if you have the right
stuff in you you will throw up that job in a year and start again."
"I'd like at least to try it, sir."
"Well, I can't help you much there; that's in civil-service, and you
must take the examination."
"I have, sir."
"So? Where, and what mark?"
"In the Treasury Department; I got a mark of ninety-three."
"What!--and no appointment?" The Senator was incredulous.
"No, sir; not yet."
Here Miss Wynn interposed.
"You see, Senator," she said, "civil-service rules are not always
impervious to race prejudice."
The Senator frowned.
"Do you mean to intimate that Mr. Alwyn's appointment is held up because
he is colored?"
"I do."
"Well--well!" The Senator rang for a clerk.
"Get me the Treasury on the telephone."
In a moment the bell rang.
"I want Mr. Cole. Is that you, Mr. Cole? Good-morning. Have you a young
man named Alwyn on your eligible list? What? Yes?" A pause. "Indeed?
Well, why has he no appointment? Of course, I know, he's a Negro. Yes, I
desire it very much--thank you."
"You'll get an appointment to-morrow morning," and the Senator rose.
"How is my sister?" he asked absently.
"She was looking worried, but hopeful of the new endowment when I left."
The Senator held out his hand; Bles took it and then remembered.
"Oh, I beg pardon, but Miss Wynn wanted a word on another matter."
The Senator turned to Miss Wynn.
"I am a school-teacher, Senator Smith, and like all the rest of us I am
deeply interested in the appointment of the new school-board."
"But you know the district committee attends to those things," said the
Senator hastily. "And then, too, I believe there is talk of abolishing
the school-board and concentrating power in the hands of the
superintendent."
"Precisely," said Miss Wynn. "And I came to tell you, Senator Smith,
that the interests which are back of this attack upon the schools are no
friends of yours." Miss Wynn extracted from her reticule a typewritten
paper.
He took the paper and read it intently. Then he keenly scrutinized the
young woman, and she steadily returned his regard.
"How am I to know this is true?"
"Follow it up and see."
He mused.
"Where did you get these facts?" he asked suddenly.
She smiled.
"It is hardly necessary to say."
"And yet," he persisted, "if I were sure of its source I would know my
ground better and--my obligation to you would be greater."
She laughed and glanced toward Alwyn. He had moved out of earshot and
was waiting by the window.
"I am a teacher in the M Street High School," she said, "and we have
some intelligent boys there who work their way through."
"Yes," said the Senator.
"Some," continued Miss Wynn, tapping her boot on the carpet, "some--wait
on table."
The Senator slowly put the paper in his pocket.
"And now," he said, "Miss Wynn, what can I do for you?"
She looked at him.
"If Judge Haynes is reappointed to the school-board I shall probably
continue to teach in the M Street High School," she said slowly.
The Senator made a memorandum and said:
"I shall not forget Miss Wynn--nor her friends." And he bowed, glancing
at Alwyn.
The woman contemplated Bles in momentary perplexity, then bowing in
turn, left. Bles followed, debating just what he ought to say, how far
he might venture to accompany her, what--but she easily settled it all.
"I thank you--good-bye," she said briefly at the door, and was gone.
Bles did not know whether to feel relieved or provoked, or disappointed,
and by way of compromise felt something of all three.
The next morning he received notice of his appointment to a clerkship in
the Treasury Department, at a salary of nine hundred dollars. The sum
seemed fabulous and he was in the seventh heaven. For many days the
consciousness of wealth, the new duties, the street scenes, and the city
life kept him more than busy. He planned to study, and arranged with a
professor at Howard University to guide him. He bought an armful of
books and a desk, and plunged desperately to work.
Gradually as he became used to the office routine, and in the hours when
he was weary of study, he began to find time hanging a little heavily on
his hands; indeed--although he would not acknowledge it--he was getting
lonesome, homesick, amid the myriad men of a busy city. He argued to
himself that this was absurd, and yet he knew that he was longing for
human companionship. When he looked about him for fellowship he found
himself in a strange dilemma: those black folk in whom he recognized the
old sweet-tempered Negro traits, had also looser, uglier manners than he
was accustomed to, from which he shrank. The upper classes of Negroes,
on the other hand, he still observed from afar; they were strangers not
only in acquaintance but because of a curious coldness and aloofness
that made them cease to seem his own kind; they seemed almost at times
like black white people--strangers in way and thought.
He tried to shake off this feeling but it clung, and at last in sheer
desperation, he promised to go out of a night with a fellow clerk who
rather boasted of the "people" he knew. He was soon tired of the
strange company, and had turned to go home, when he met a newcomer in
the doorway.
"Why, hello, Sam! Sam Stillings!" he exclaimed delightedly, and was soon
grasping the hand of a slim, well-dressed man of perhaps thirty, with
yellow face, curling hair, and shifting eyes.
"Well, of all things, Bles--er--ah--Mr. Alwyn! Thought you were hoeing
cotton."
Bles laughed and continued shaking his head. He was foolishly glad to
see the former Cresswell butler, whom he had known but slightly. His
face brought back unuttered things that made his heart beat faster and a
yearning surge within him.
"I thought you went to Chicago," cried Bles.
"I did, but goin' into politics--having entered the political field, I
came here. And you graduated, I suppose, and all that?"
"No," Bless admitted a little sadly, as he told of his coming north, and
of Senator Smith's influence. "But--but how are--all?"
Abruptly Sam hooked his arm into Alwyn's and pulled him with him down
the street. Stillings was a type. Up from servility and menial service
he was struggling to climb to money and power. He was shrewd, willing to
stoop to anything in order to win. The very slights and humiliations of
prejudice he turned to his advantage. When he learned all the
particulars of Alwyn's visit to Senator Smith and his cordial reception
he judged it best to keep in touch with this young man, and he forthwith
invited Bles to accompany him the next night to the Fifteenth Street
Presbyterian Church.
"You'll find the best people there," he said; "the aristocracy. The
Treble Clef gives a concert, and everybody that's anybody will be
there."
They met again the following evening and proceeded to the church. It was
a simple but pleasant auditorium, nearly filled with well-dressed
people. During the programme Bles applauded vociferously every number
that pleased him, which is to say, every one--and stamped his feet,
until he realized that he was attracting considerable attention to
himself. Then the entertainment straightway lost all its charm; he grew
painfully embarrassed, and for the remainder of the evening was
awkwardly self-conscious. When all was over, the audience rose leisurely
and stood in little knots and eddies, laughing and talking; many moved
forward to say a word to the singers and players, Stillings stepped
aside to a group of men, and Bles was left miserably alone. A man came
to him, a white-faced man, with slightly curling close gray hair, and
high-bred ascetic countenance.
"You are a stranger?" he asked pleasantly, and Bles liked him.
"Yes, sir," he answered, and they fell to talking. He discovered that
this was the pastor of the church.
"Do you know no one in town?"
"One or two of my fellow clerks and Mr. Stillings. Oh, yes, I've met
Miss Wynn."
"Why, here is Miss Wynn now."
Bles turned. She was right behind him, the centre of a group. She
turned, slowly, and smiled.
"Oh!" she uttered twice, but with difference cadence. Then something
like amusement lurked a moment in her eye, and she quietly presented
Bles to her friends, while Stillings hovered unnoticed in the offing:
"Miss Jones--Mr. Alwyn of--" she paused a second--"Alabama. Miss
Taylor--Mr. Alwyn--and," with a backward curving of her neck, "Mr.
Teerswell," and so on. Mr. Teerswell was handsome and indolent, with
indecision in his face and a cynical voice. In a moment Bles felt the
subtle antagonism of the group. He was an intruder. Mr. Teerswell nodded
easily and turned away, continuing his conversation with the ladies.
But Miss Wynn was perverse and interrupted. "I saw you enjoyed the
concert, Mr. Alwyn," she said, and one of the young ladies rippled
audibly. Bles darkened painfully, realizing that these people must have
been just behind him. But he answered frankly:
"Yes, I did immensely--I hope I didn't disturb you; you see, I'm not
used to hearing such singing."
Mr. Teerswell, compelled to listen, laughed drily.
"Plantation melodies, I suppose, are more your specialty," he said with
a slight cadence.
"Yes," said Bles simply. A slight pause ensued.
Then came the surprise of the evening for Bles Alwyn. Even his
inexperienced eye could discern that Miss Wynn was very popular, and
that most of the men were rivals for her attentions.
"Mr. Alwyn," she said graciously, rising. "I'm going to trouble you to
see me to my door; it's only a block. Good-night, all!" she called, but
she bowed to Mr. Teerswell.
Miss Wynn placed her hand lightly on Bles's arm, and for a moment he
paused. A thrill ran through him as he felt again the weight of a little
hand and saw beside him the dark beautiful eyes of a girl. He felt again
the warm quiver of her body. Then he awoke to the lighted church and the
moving, well-dressed throng. The hand on his arm was not so small; but
it was well-gloved, and somehow the fancy struck him that it was a cold
hand and not always sympathetic in its touch.
_Twenty-three_