_A Messenger That Hesitates._
Mrs. Crump sat in her room, her elbows propped up on her knees and her
cheeks resting on her hands. The death of Henry, her only boy, was
indeed a severe blow to her, but at this particular moment she was
bearing up well under it, reserving her strength by a supreme effort of
her will to the end that she might comfort her husband when he became
aware of the tragedy.
Foresta had gone for her father with the understanding that she was not
to tell him what had occurred, but was to allow her mother to break the
news to him upon his arrival home.
Every step that Foresta took on her sorrowful journey was accompanied by
a rain of tears. As she drew near the place where her father was at
work, she stopped and tried to remove all traces of sorrow. She wiped
and wiped her eyes, but the tears persisted in flowing. Her father was
at work in a quarry as a rock breaker.
The city was using small stones as a sort of pavement for the streets,
and aged Negro men were given the work of breaking rocks into fragments
to be used in that way. The occupation was not an ideal one, as
employment was of a fluctuating character, and the sitting on the
ground, often damp, was not conducive to health. The amount earned in
proportion to the labor performed was very small. But aged men unable to
move about very much found this to be about all that they could do. So,
the rock pile grew to be the accepted goal of all the Negro men who wore
themselves out in other service without laying aside a competence or
establishing themselves permanently in the good graces of their
employees.
There were many who did thus establish themselves, and Ford Crump would
have been such a one but for the following chain of circumstances, to
which account you may give heed while waiting on Foresta to feel
self-possessed enough to approach her father.
Soon after the Civil War Mr. Arthur Daleman came to Almaville and
entered business. Ford Crump, Foresta's father, then a young man, was
his first Negro employee. The business grew until Mr. Daleman was
rightly classed as a very rich man.
For several years after Mr. Arthur Daleman's marriage, no children had
come to bless their home. Early one morning, as Mr. Daleman was crossing
the bridge, he saw a young white girl acting rather suspiciously,
peering up and down the bridge. Drawing near, he found that she had an
infant wrapped in a bundle. Fully believing that it was the intention of
the girl to drown the babe, he asked that she give him the child. This
the young woman very gladly did. As the child grew, Mrs. Daleman's heart
warmed to it and after several years of anxious thought and observation
of the child the couple decided to adopt it as their son. Within a year
after this was done a beautiful little girl, whom they called Alene, was
born to them.
When Mr. Daleman grew wealthy, he decided to travel through the North
and induce capital to invest in the South. He felt that the commercial
tie between the sections would be of the greatest possible value and it
was said of him that he brought more outside capital into the South than
any other one man. He turned his business over to his adopted son,
Arthur Daleman, Jr.
Arthur Daleman, Jr., did not like Negroes, and though Ford Crump had
been with the business from its infancy, his presence was not desired by
the new manager. When Ford Crump got so that he was not as active as was
desired, he was summarily dismissed and his place given to a young white
man. Arthur Daleman, Sr., whose interests were now immense, never came
near the store, and, as a consequence, did not know the fate that had
overtaken his faithful employee.
Ford Crump did not appeal to Mr. Daleman, Sr., in the matter, partly
through pride and partly because he could not bear the irritating tone
of the younger Daleman, which was in such striking contrast to the
kindly manner of the elder Daleman. He had saved his earnings and bought
a little home, and he was now willing to take his chances in the world
even at his advanced age. It was thus that he found his way to the rock
pile.
We now return to our messenger. Foresta sees that she is not going to be
able to appear before her father free from signs of sorrow, and she
decides on another course. Picking up a stone she rubbed it violently on
the back of her hand, tearing the skin and causing blood to flow. She
now hurried to the spot where her father sat, and said,
"Papa, mama wants you!"
The tone of Foresta's voice caused her father to look up quickly and
anxiously.
"What are you crying about, my dear?" asked Mr. Crump.
Foresta made no reply, but held out her hand so that her father could
see it.
"Poor thing; how did you hurt it?" he asked.
"Don't think about that. Mama wants you. Come on!" said Foresta,
averting her face.
The father and daughter trudged along home, the father trying to say
comforting things to Foresta and she weeping the more bitterly the
while. At length it occurred to Mr. Crump that Foresta was more deeply
touched than would have been the case if her trouble had been merely
that of a bruised hand. Stopping, he said,
"Say, now, Foresta, is your mama hurt?"
"O no, papa! Mama is not hurt. Come on!"
"Is Henry----"
Foresta perceived the coming question, and ran to avoid it. They were
now near home. Foresta rushed in and threw her arms around her mother.
Hearing her father's footsteps, she ran into the kitchen, leaving her
mother to break the news.
"Ford, we haven't any little Henry now!" said Mrs. Crump in sad,
soothing tones.
Ford Crump whirled away from his wife and walked rapidly out of the room
through the kitchen into the back yard. Little Henry's chief task was
attending to the chickens, and Mr. Crump stood at the fence running
across the yard to form an enclosure for the fowl.
"Chicks, your best friend is gone," said he.
"My head! my head!" he cried.
Foresta and her mother heard his cry and reached him just in time to
break the force of the fall, but not in time to prevent his answering
the final summons.