Part 15 (1/2)

”Yes.”

”Then, Hertha, haven't you gone away already? You know the South. You can't be both white and black.”

Hertha took down her hat from the shelf and put it on. It was a pretty white straw with a blue ribbon. She had trimmed it herself but the straw and the ribbon were a gift from Ellen.

”I suppose I may come back to pack up my things?” she asked angrily.

”Little sister, little sister!” Ellen cried.

Throwing off the hat Hertha flung her arms around her sister's neck.

”Let me stay just a little longer,” she beseeched. ”Tell him I will come after supper. Tell him that I am too ill to come now but that you will bring me later in the evening. Let me stay and have supper with you and Mammy and then you may take me to his house. I'll go with you but not with him.”

”Oh, you darling!” Ellen said, hugging her. ”You're the truest! And I'm glad for you, I am, I am! You'll never forget, oh, I know you'll never forget! You know that black and white mean nothing, just nothing, that it's hearts and souls, it's whether people are mean or generous, whether they're kind or cruel, that counts. You'll never talk about 'cute n.i.g.g.e.rs' the way the women do who come to my school. You won't think black people can't feel shame and mortification the same as white. You won't say the women are all immoral and the men are all----”

”Oh, Ellen,” Hertha cried, ”I've said good-by to Tom!” She sat down at the window and shook as though she were ill. ”I can't help loving him most. I love him the way you love me; I took care of him when he was a baby.”

”Yes, dear!”

”Go and tell that man that I'm coming by and by with you, and let me stay here a while alone.”

It was dark among the pines, but the clouds broke and the silver moonlight greeted them as they turned under the live-oaks to Hertha's new home. For the first time since they had come to Merryvale and the great house they made their way to the front door. There, on the porch, they kissed each other good-by; and standing outside, Ellen saw Hertha Ogilvie, the baby that she had nursed, the child for whom she had made daily sacrifice, leave her in the darkness to enter the white man's world.

CHAPTER XI

”I never knew lawyers before to be so expeditious,” Miss Witherspoon was saying, ”I shall not talk again of the dilatoriness of the South.”

”It has all happened very quickly,” Hertha answered.

A week had pa.s.sed since the receipt of the letter, and Hertha and Miss Witherspoon were sitting together on the gallery while Miss Patty took her afternoon nap. The younger woman was sewing on some underwear but the older sat with empty hands, looking now at the girl, now at the landscape.

”You have been wise at once to bank your money, Hertha.” Miss Witherspoon had started with Miss Ogilvie, but had slipped back into the familiar appellation. ”You can draw it any time, but this way will make you careful.”

Hertha smiled.

”I am glad that you have decided to accompany me and enter upon work in Boston. It seems a special providence that I should have come to Merryvale at just this time, when I can be of use.”

”I'm sure it is fortunate for me.”

”I have made all the arrangements that we spoke of, and I know that you will like the Inst.i.tute. The course there in dressmaking is admirable.

It's a little late to enter, but as a special favor to me you will be allowed to go at once into your cla.s.s. I said that you were clever with your needle and could easily make up the lessons you had missed.”

”I hope I can.”

”Of course you can, my dear. You have only to exert yourself, and everything will go as it should. And about your board. I have written to Clay House, and they will take you in with their first vacancy. It is always so crowded. You see, it is the best place for working-girls in Boston for the money. You might have to share your room with some one but I don't believe you would mind that. A single room is seven dollars a week, but with another girl it costs only five dollars. You wouldn't want to start in spending more than that, I presume. You agree with me?”

If Hertha was in disagreement she did not show it in her face, but neither did she express approval of Miss Witherspoon's plans; she simply allowed the lady to talk on.

And she did talk on. She told Hertha about Boston, its streets, its public gardens, its library, its admirable educational facilities. Her knowledge of the city was prodigious and she apparently was on the boards of half its inst.i.tutions. When she was through, for the time being, with Boston, she turned to Hertha's personal affairs. It had been arranged that the two should leave together in three days, going by train to New York and on to Boston. Miss Witherspoon had definite ideas of what Hertha would and would not need for the trip. She cautioned her at present against buying any clothes beyond absolute necessities. There would be time for that later. And from this she turned to the general question of expenditure. ”Two thousand dollars, you know, Hertha, is a very small sum. You must not think of it in terms of princ.i.p.al but of interest. At five per cent it means only a hundred dollars a year, or a little less than nine dollars a month. Of course you cannot live on that.”