Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-06-07
AROUND THE CITY

A man In an open car was furnishing
free show for two women in the seat be-
hind. He was well dressed, we'll SCRUB
bed man. but he had on the back of his
neck that demoralizing thing we call a
pinginnit.
The women must have particularly en-
joyed the i'll that the mans flesh was
heir to. for at every stiff movement of his
head toward the man with him they
looked at each other and laughed. Every
body gets into a nervous tit of giggling
now and then. SO perhaps they couldn't
help themselves, but really IT wasn't nice.
And they kept it up too long.
Ii the pinginnit man heard he paid no
Observation-Disclosures goes with pinsinnits.
His companion. however. was plainly
not of the mold of which saints are made,
for after several backward glances he
said quite casually. in a voice loud enough
for every passenger In the car TO hear:
Women should never laugh aloud after
they are forty. The sight Is too distress
ing"
The women behind were really not over
thirty. but
That time they laughed no more.
He was an oldish black man. southern
in dialect. ministerial In collar. and with
TIE voice of one who Is called on to say
many loud amens
was as yellow and irresponsible as a
pumpkin blossom in a cornlield and both
had reached that stage in the road we all
know about where the course fails To run
smooth.
"Ya-as. NAH honey" he was informing
as white woman passed them in the
dusk, Il low youS tail d young
hick'ry saplin' an as playful a skippin
lam, while ann short in statcher an long
in years, but
1t was really a beautiful thing TO be
saying-takins IN the earnestness and
the deep amen voice-but it failed to
appeal To the pumpkin blossom, for she
interrupted to giggle out:
Law. Mstah Tawmpson. l never
noticed 'em before! Thcey are powful
long amt they? Can YOU make EN-
wiggle?"
She must have known that he was not
referring to his ears, but the solemn black
man made no defense.
He just breathed deep sigh, like an
amen sung softly by the whole choir.
Two whitey-gray horses hitched to
cart stood at gutter in way off, lazy
street.
woman who was waiting for a subur-
ban car sat on Il water butt and watched
the whitley gray horses.
They switched their tails and fiicked
their ears and pranced and paved until
the woman decided they We're one-ti-ne
racers fallen into the sere and yellow.
10 boy. all teeth al frcr'ses who
was playing mumbley-te-p -e grass:
Say. laddie, why are those horses SO
FESTIVE? Is it spirit
No, ma am. It's flies
The woman considered the whitey-gray
horses in a new light.
The boy put the handle of his knife
ID his chin and gave it flip that brought
il down that the blade stuck IN the
grass. Then he resumed the converse
ton.
You don't know much about horses. do
you. LADY,"
We'll. answered the woman. reflective
ly, Il know more than l did
Somebody had dropped an unstamped
letter addressed to another somebody in
New York. The writer's address was In
the upper left corner. and below was
the word Important" underscored twice.
The woman who picked up the letter
feeling, possibly. that 1t was about tho
time of day to do a small kindness took
a stamp from her purse and dropped the
letter in box.
Then she noticed that she had omitted to
put on the stamp.
Maybe they were just pair of care
less women.
Maybe. again. some hidden force was
determined to delay the going of that let
ter.
Who can tell?
She wasn't much of Il woman to look at.
except for her eyes. And not her eyes.
either. for they were so faded that they
had probably forgotten they were ever
blue. 1t was their expression.
There she sat In corner. looking into
the rainy dusk, as If the car window was
the wide-open gate of paradise.
And across from her sat another woman
trying to figure out how SO shabby a
creature had come by so transcendent a
joy.
There was nothing In her black skirt
and many times Numbered shirt waist to
go by. and no Doyle that ever lived could
deduct" anything from black hat trim
med with a homemade bow. Crushed to-
gether in the work distorted hands was
a batch of papers. strapped with rubber
bands.
And when the woman across saw the
batch she knew. The bunch of pale green
papers were Cancelled notes and the big
legal cap paper deed The faded
eyes and work distorted hands had made
good. The shabby woman had bought
herself home.
So why shouldn't she look ahead into
the rainy dusk as If the car window was
the wide-open gate Of paradise?
Doesn't heaven mean home3