The Houston Informer (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 11, No. 33, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 11, 1930 Page: 7 of 8
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ERICA’S
EEKLY NEWSPAPI
THE HOUSTON INFORMER, SATURDAY, JANUARY 11,1930
• A Story of Sacri
€,
rmor
HT
OR
CA SYNOPSIS A
J-MBA—Not a full-bloded Negro but whose dark colored suggest,
ed an admixture of American Indian, is the much beloved employee of
the whin aristocratic Wentworth family. 7
THE WENTWORTH FAMILY—Consists of Saint Julien de Cha-
tigny Wentworth, Polly Wentworth, and Mrs. Wentworth, their wid-
owed mother-The family to more aristocratic than wealthy.
MAUM NEITA—Another colored member of the Wentworth house-
hold, who has been with them for many years.
Mamba has an uncannily clever understanding of the ruling white
class and also possesses a naturally deep and unusually rich contralto
voice. S
The Wentworths are unable to pay Mamba, but Mamba to so devot-
ed to the family that she is satisfied with her board and the opportuni.
ty of acting ns maid to Polly, a young lady of inherited social promi-
nence. 1
Polly was very apt in school, but Saint was a disappointment to
everyone in the Wentworth family, except Mamba, whose keen insight
into human nature enabled, her to see latent ability even though he
did not respond creditably to the school system. Mamba alone under-
/ stood Saint. 1
HAGAR—Mamba’s giant, muscular, slow-witted daughter, had an
inordinate liking for strong, drink, much to Mamba’s distress. Two
qualities she had in common with Mamba, namely, a fine contralto
voice and a large body. Mamba had said Hagar was “born for trou-
ble."
LISSA—Hagar’s daughter, was the object of Mamba’s sacrifice and
the cause of Mamba’s constant remonstrance against Hagar’s habits.
Mamba leaves the Wentworths for the Atkinsons, who are also
wealthy, incidentally more wealthy than aristocratic—in order that
she may obtain more pay.
In the meantime Saint obtains a five dollar a week job as store-
keeper at the mines and begins a business career. -
One of Hagar’s escapades leads her into a brawl with a Negro,
whom she belabors with “so much severity that she to arrested and
charged with aggravated assault.
Hagar is given a two-year suspended sentence. Mamba sends her
to Saint for a job at the mines. Hagar astonishes the miners by per.
forming a man’s work. She turns her earnings over to Mamba, who
saves them for Lissa.
At a combination church service and "Love Feast" Hagar (whose
new name is Baxter) befriends Bluton, a very much despised mulatto,
by carrying him to a city hospital after he has been seriously “slash-
ed” by one of the frolickers. Under Hagar’s suspended sentence, she
was forbidden to come within the city limits and she barely escapes
prison again.
The season’s most exclusive event among the white folks is the ball
of the St. Cecilia society. The Atkinsons are elated over their invita-
tion to attend this event, consequently they invite Mr. Atkinson’s pret-
ty niece, Valerie, to attend as their guest
Mamba takes Lissa, who is now about ten years of age, to the
Wentworth home to see Polly’s evening gown. While there, Lissa to
found to be developing into a very beautiful girl.
Saint and Valerie have become very much interested in each other.
In the meantime, an accident occurs which calls forth Saint’s dis-
satisfaction with his position in the commissary. He hesitates to aid
in the punishment of a Negro whom he knows to be innocent.
The Reverend Thomas Grayson, a newcomer from New York, ap-
pears at the mining camp. He studied divinity in New England and
came to the village intending to help his people in other fields besides
arelgioi.” He to immediately recognized as a rival of the Reverend
Whaley, the village sky-pilot.
At church the Reverend Grayson notices Baxter’s (Hagar) fine
contralto voice. In turn Baxter to very much impressed with Reve-
rend Grayson’s modern philosophy of life. She begins to doubt the
more -superstitious preachments of the Reverend Whaley.
Lissa, now seventeen, has blossomed into a maiden of exotic beauty.
She has become identified with an intellectual group where her voice
—the deep contralto, handed down from Mamba through Baxter—
has attracted much attention.
Lissa is now a member of Charleston’s intelligentsia, where she
meets Frank North, a young Negro painter and violinst. He is very
talented and worthwhile, and is interested in Lissa.
Lissa to considerably disgusted with her lofty associates. One day
she tells Mamba that in spite of the fact that she to told to be proud
of her Negro heritage, all her associates are trying their “damndest”
to be white.
Gardinia Whitmore, a mulatto beauty and a true flapper type,
seeks Lissa’s companionship. But Lissa, because of her refined na-
ture, is rather afraid of Gardinia’s overtures.
Gardinia has asked Lissa to accompany her on a “wild” party.
—O—
fact that he had laughed at Mamba.
INSTALLMENT X11 fact that he had laughed at Mamba.
"Ah ain’t expectin’ no harm to He had not supposed that Lissa would
come to she, an Ah ain’t tryin’ to 5----* 1- 1- 45----
baby my gal. Ah trus‘ she anywhere
wid anbody any time. But when she
go away from here’ wid yo’, yo’s
’sponsible for she. Ef enyt’in Happen
to she yo* goto me—Mamba—to settle
wid. Yo’ gets dat?”
The man looked her up and down.
, It was not in him to feel the spirit-
' ual power that animated the fragile
old creature who hung‘to the side of
his car. He could only see a rather
comic little figure with great false
teeth gleaming in the lamplight
against the black of hut face, and a
hind that trembled absurdly and im-
potently on his' ear. - He laughed at
her frankly, throwing his head back
so that she saw the insolent chal-
lenge in his eyes, and livid scar that
crossed his forehead like a long cen-
tipede. 1
Lissa put her arm around the old
woman and drew her close to her
side. "Here, cut that out,” she cried
sharply to the man. “Nobody’s going
to laugh at Grandma and take me
oat—you can just get that straight
now." 48082
Prince’s change of front was almost
comical in its suddenness.
“Me laugh at de ole lady ?—Honey,
yo’ don’t know me. Ah jes’ laugh be-
cause she think anything can happen
while Ah takin' care of yo’.”
He reached over and patted Mam-
ba’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t wor-
ry, Gran’ma. Make your min’ easy.
Your gal ain’t never been so well fix’
befo’.”
During the brief parley the engine
had been running slowly. Now he ad-
vanced the accelerator, and the sound
swelled suddenly and omniously in
Mamba’s ears.
! “Get in, Lissa,” he called. “We’re
, late enough already.”
But there was no disguising the
care and he had taken the chance.
Now the girl stood with her arm
tight about the old woman and hes-
itated, looking at him with anger and
distrust in her eyes. For a moment
it seemed as though she would let
him drive away alone. But she had
longed so for the night to come. The
Mason in the parade that morning
had started a hunger in her for
youth that could forget itself and send
worries flying—and she had been
such a lady all afternoon—and there,
half an hour away, were waiting mu-
sic—dancing—throbbing young bodies
—“Life with a red lining.”
She caught Mamba to her, half
smoothed her with kisses and sprang
into the machine beside Prince. There
was a hoarse, triumphant cry of met-
al as the gears meshed and the red
car lunged northward.
Mamba stood and watched it go,
first a crimson blotch that came and
went as it passed under successive
arc lights, then only a tiny red spark
that zigzagged around other cars and
went out slowly like a star in blow-
ing smoke.
Mamba sat at the open window.
There was a tensity about her atti-
tude as though she were waiting by
prearrangement for a certain occur-
rence and that she was unsure only of
the hour. St. Michael's chimes had
spoken to her every quarter hour, and
each time at the first mellow note
she had at forward, counted with an
inaudible movement of the lips, then,
in the ensuing silence, let herself go
slowly back in her chair and wait for
the next. She was fully clad, even
to the sedate black straw bonnet
which was an emblem of respectabil-
ity without which she was never seen
upon the street.
Midnight had passed, heavy-fotted
and weary, then, almost staccato by
companion, came the single clear
note announcing the new day.
A ramshackle automobile rattled
noisily up the quiet street and stop-
ped with a sigh before the Atkinsons’
gate. At the same moment that Mam-
ba’s form strained from her window,
Gardinia Whitmore arrived breathless
on the grass below.
“Lissa home yet?” she asked.
Mamba disappeared immediately
and a moment later stood beside the
young woman, her fingers closed in
a grip that was almost painful about
Gardinia’s arm. ,
“No,” she said briefly; then: “Ah
been waitin’ fer yo* to come fo* me.
Whar yo’ t’ink she gone?”
Gardinia’s voice was edged with
hysteria. She had been drinking, and
exhaled an effluvium of corn whiskey.
“I swear to Gawd I didn’t have
nothin’ to do with it, Gran’ma,” she
began. “I did just like I promised, I
kept my eye on her, but there was
something about that licker of
Prince’s. It knocked me out, an’ it
knocked out Slim, an’ we aint no
babies. When I come ’round, the first
thing I looked for was Lissa and
Prince, and when I ain’t see them I
made Slime burn it down here to you.
just like I promised.”
Mamba’s voice came urgent steady-
ing: “Where dat 'nigger’ Prince lib?
Tell me all yo’ know ’bout um, gal.”,
"Nobody don’t know much, about
him, and he’s such a liar, you can’t
count on what he says about himself.
All I know is he lives across the
bridge. He says he runs a big truck
farm and a lot of stores over there."
“What he name? He mas’ hab
more ob a name dan jus’ Prince.”
Gardinia stood silent, trying to re-
member. Then she called Slim. With
maddening deliberation he detached
himself from the ear and slouched in-
dolently forward.
“What’s Prince’s real name?” the
girt demanded.
The man stood shuffling one foot
backward- and forward on the grass,
his mouth sagging open, while he
pursued the glimmer of a memory
through the labyrinth of his befud-
dled brain. At last he announced,
“Ah got it. Ah done heard some of
the mens call him Bluton—Gilly Blu-
ton.”
The word shocked Mamba into in-
stant activity. She span around and
re-entered the house, emerging a mo-
ment later with a big old-fashioned
pocketbook in her hand. She took
each of the young people by an arm
and propelled them toward the gate,
her body rocking with her speed and
the intensity of her purpose. At the
car she stuffed a bill into Slim’s hand,
“Ober de bridge, boy,” she ordered,
“an* fuh Gawd’s sake hurry."
Then, while he was obediently
cranking the car, she turned and laid
a hand on Gardinia’s shoulder. “Go
home an* sleep it off, gal,” she said
in a gentle voice. “Yo ain’t a bad gal,
an’ yo done what yo’ can."
Slim sat silent, giving his whole at-
tention to the task of getting the ut-
most out of his dilapidated machine.
Mamba’s thoughts wrestled with the
problem that confronted her. It was
useless to plan. She would have to
depend on Hagar, who knew the
ground. But she had an almost su-
perstitious fear of the consequences
that might result from such a de-
pendence. Always it had been the
well-meant bungling of her great,
awkward daughter that had precipi-
tated trouble. She remembered viv-
idly the summer dawn when Hagar
had sent for her to come to the East
Bay tenement after she had jeopar-
dised all of her hopes for Lissa by
rescuing Bluton and bringing him to
the city to be found and cared for by
the police. The malign and ironical
fate that prompted Hagar’s good im-
pulses had never played a more cruel
joke on her than that. She had risk-
ed everything to save Bluton—for
what? To attempt the ruin of her
own daughter. The thought stabbed
the old woman like a blade, and she
broke her silence, urging’ Slim to
greater speed.
It must have been between two and
three o’clock when Mamba reached
the cabin in which Hagar lived with
old Vina. Overhead the great void
of sky was filled with drifting mist,
dark to the east and showing a lumi-
nous area over the western treetops
where the moon was tilting toward
the horizon. In the faint light the
cabin had a ghostly, deserted look.
Mamba sprang from the car, and
knocked upon the door, calling ur-
gently, “Hagar—Hagar!"
Almost instantly the door was op-
ened, and the woman stood in her
white nightdress, looming huge
against the dark.
“Lissa’s ober here with dat damn*
‘nigger* Bluton," Mamba shot at her;
then she strove by repetition to drive
the idea into the sleep-dulled brain.
“Here—here-—do yo’ unnerstan’?—
wid Bluton."
“Can’t be, Ma—not Lissa."
“Ah tell yo’ she is. We got to find
her quick. Where’d he take her? Yo*
knows him, yo* know his ways wid — and her voice broke into ancon-
women.”
Hagar was awake now, and she re-
sponded to Mamba’s old power over
her. It was almost as though the
older brain had assumed control of
nerve and muscle in the big body,
telling them what to de. Hagar reach-
ed into the room and caught up a
cloak that she flung over her night-
dress; then, with Mamba, she sprang
for the car.
Over the uneven road the machine
bounded, plunging, plunging through
avenues, racing between broom straw
fields under a wide emptiness of sky.
And always Hagar, sitting on the
rear seat and leaning forward with
her face at Slim’s shoulder, told him
which turnings to take. About them
the night, under its shroud of mist,
lay as quiet, as indifferent to human
urgency, as death. The steady puls-
ing of the motor and the rattle of
the vehicle served only to accentuate
the awful loneliness of the country.
They rocketed past the huddled
cabins of a settlement and struck a
narrow dirt road that led out through
a stand of yelloy pine toward the
swamp that lay black and solid
against the horison. Hagar’s fingers
clamped down of Slim’s shoulder.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Under her hand the machine seem-
ed to die in midair, gasping, and set-
tling suddenly to earth. The trees that
had been rushing past them stopped
in their tracks, crowded close, and
looked down on the three intruders.
“We got to get out here an walk,"
Hagar said. “Come on, we aint got
no time to lose now."
But the man did not leave his seat.
Mamba turned back and asked why
he waited.
He settled forward in the seat, his
body relaxed, his head propped
against the back.
“Nuttin’ doin’, Gran’ma,” he drawl-
ed. “Ah’s a hired driver. Ah ain’t got
nuttin’ against Prince. Ah ain’t see
nuttin’. Ah ain’t hear Buttin’. When
yo’s ready to go home, yo‘ can wake
me up.
But now the initiative had passed
to Hagar. She caught Mamba by the
arm and urged, “Com on, Ma, we ain’t
need no man to help.”
They would soon be there now, Ha-
gar explained as she hurried the old
woman forward. This was the place
where Bluton ran his crap game. A
little farther, at the swamp’s edge,
they would find the cabin. They were
upon it. There was a small opening
in the trees, and through it the sky
let down a dim gray light. The cabin
was a black cube with one candlelit
window. Before the door in spidery
outline stood the red racer.
Not until the women were at the
door did they hear the first sound.
Lissa’s voice in a sort of desperate
monotony: “Not that, Prince—not
that—not that.”
Hagar kicked the door open, and
they entered together. Lissa was seat-
ed on the floor with her back to the
wall, her knees drawn up, and her
chin on them. Her arms were locked
about her legs below the knees. The
candlelight flickered upon the golden
brown of her shoulder and upper arm
where her dress had been torn. Blu-
ton was hanging over her in a threat-
ening attitude.
At the entrance of the women both
faces were flung toward the door.
With a shrill cry Lissa was up in
Mamba’s arms. Between them and
Prince stood Hagar, her feet planted
wide apart. Her arms held akimbo
under the full coat exaggerated her
already massive bulk to a preposter-
ous breadth, and her head, held low
and thrust menacingly forward, was
scarcely visible to the women who
stood in the shadows behind her. No
word had been spoken. There had
been no sonud except Lissa’s cry, and
the waiting silence of the night had
seemed to suck the shrill note from
her lips and leave the four occupants
of the room suspended as though in
a vacuum. From the swamp came the
demoniac scream of a cat—a struggle
—a strangling death wail—and again
silence. A subtle change became
manifest in the appearance of the
girl. She ceased trembling. Her form
drew to its full height. A ripple of
tautened muscle stirred under the
smooth bronze of her skin where the
shoulder rose above her tattered cloth-
ing. Then in a flash she was out of
Mamba’s arms, past the gigantic
form of her mother, and upon the
cowering man. Words that rose to her
lips were broken there into strange,
savage utterance unintelligible as
speech, but more eloquent—more ter-
rifying. One slender hand clawed
downward and four livid streaks fol-
lowed the flensing nails from fore-
head to chin. Hagar reached out an
arm, and caught the girl in its curve,
pressed her to her side for a moment,
then passed her back to Mamha.
As suddenly as it had come, the
girl’s passion left her. Her head went
down on the old shoulder. “Oh,
Grandma, he tried to—he tried to—
*000020I
Duxes
The Stormy Career of Jack Johnson -
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37
After his first success Jack set about estab-
Wishing himself with the best in Pommoer
In 1896, being 20 years of age. Jack return-
d to Galveston. Because of his youth be
lad no
Can
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on. Because of his youth he
thkeniriouz.a mirel Ne%
By this time Galveston was beginning to
take considerable notice of Jack’s ring activi-
ties—particulari after he met a Jim Scanian
L.
n Jin
trollable sobbing. , 1
The deep compassionate voice
soothed her: “Ah know, chile. Ah
know—but dat all done now, yo‘ wid
Mamba now.” She drew the shaking
girl from the room and into the heavy
stillness of the night. There was
something terribly complete about
those two, about their entire suffi-
ciency to each other. The enfolding
devotion of the old woman covering
the girl and isolating her from every
evil, every alien touch—Mamba and
Lissa—no one else.
Hagar stood for a moment like one
who has been blinded by sudden in-
tense light. Her eyes held the image,
quiveringly alive, of the splendid
thing that was her child. The dream
pattern that she had treasured of the
slender little girl was shattered, and
as yet she could not take in this new
and marvellous being. She was dizzy
from the revelation. She was also
vaguely conscious of a loneliness
deeper than any that had gone before.
The chaos of her mind was shot
through by an instinctive warning.
Suddenly her brain cleared, her body
tensed. She spun around and faced
Bluton. The naked fear in his face
gave her an exquisite pang. Some-
thing deep and elemental broke free
inside of her. She stood watching
him, catlike, as he moved along the
wall in the direction of the crap table
which stood at the further end of the
room.
She knew what he wanted now.
She let him get almost to the drawer
with its brass knobs, her eyes and
his locked all the time. She saw his
face change, glimmer with hope, re-
lief. Then she was before him, with
the table at her back. As he had
advanced slowly, with his studied at-
tempt at casualness, so now he re-
treated before her, while she closed
the distance between them. It was
like some ghastly rehearsal, carried
out with utter absorption, for some
momentous event that was set for
the future. It was so deliberate, so
mechanical in its studied advance and
retreat. Then at last the wall was
against the man’s shoulder blades.
The touch of the unyielding timber
seemed to turn his limbs to water.
His knees gave, and he had difficulty
propping his body upright. He rais-
ed his arms before his face in a weak,
defensive gesture.
Hagar said, “Yo rattlesnake! Yo’
would be dead now *cept fuh me—an*
naw my own gal, Lissa---” Then
after a pause, “You!" ,
The man found voice in a screech.
It was so weak that it scarcely filled
the little room—at its peak it plung-
ed suddenly into silence.
Mamba wanted to be going. She
wanted to get Lissa away from that
horrible place, back into the ordered
peace of streets and houses. But
- Hagar did not come. Why couldn't
the woman hurry and let them get
to the automobile and away? She
put the girl, who was quiet at last,
out of her arms and started back to
the shack. The door was open, and
the draught played with the candle
flame, peopling the room with lurch-
ing shadows and half lights.
The old woman entered, with Lissa,
peering fearfully over her shoulder.
Hagar stood with her back to them,
her arms hanging straight and long
at her sides, her bullet head thrust
forward. Her huge shoulders flung
a black arch of shadow over half of
the wall before her. Bluton lay in
a huddle at her feet. His head was
twisted at a preposterous angle. The
yellow of his face had gone a dark
purple, and the candle flame was
flung back in two cold high lights
from his wide, unblinking eyes.
Lissa screamed. Hagar turned
heavily in her tracks and looked at
them dully from raised eyes under
bowered brows.
Mamba advanced toward her. In
her extremity her voice seemed heavy
with hatred for her big bungling
daughter. primis
"Yo damned fool,” she said. “See
what yo' done now, eberybody at dat
dance know Lissa been wid Prince.
People seen me come out here. Ah
ought to ha’ known if Ah turned my
back on yo’ yo’d play hell----”
Hagar buried her face in the crook
of an arm and commenced to sob.
“Oh, Gawd, Ma. Ah ain’t stop to
t’ink. Ah only know he been hurt
Lissa."
Mamba wasted no sentimental pity
on the broken thing upon the floor.
Her whole being focussed on the
staggering predicament that confront-
ed her.
“Get outside," she ordered, “Ah got
to t’ink.” She blew out the candle
and followed them into the open,
thinking aloud: "Ah got to sen' Lissa
away quick, an' she got to go far.
But Ah can't let she go alone, an'
she ain't got no frien' to go to.”
Between broken sobs Hagar said
surprisingly. “Ah got a frien."
Mamba looked at her skeptically.
"Yo’ has? Where?”
"Ah got a frien’ what’s a Reverent,
an’ the lib in Noo Yo’h”
* Then
“Yo know whar he house to?”
now and had stopped crying, WAL
got it writ in a book he gib me. He
4 good man—yo’ needn’t be ‘fraid to
sen’ Lissa to he."
“Oh, he dat Yankee nigger what
used to be down here!”
Hagar nodded assent.
“Come, den,” Mamba commanded.
“We ain’t got no time to lose.”
They waked Slim, who grinned
sleepily and leered when he saw the
girl, and started him back to the vil-
lage. When they reached Hagar’s
cabin she ran inside and returned in
a moment with a small black book in
her hand. She pressed it on Mamba,
who had followed her to the door.
“De name an’ number is writ In-
side,” she said, “Lissa can tell he dat
she Baxter gal—an’ to 'member what
he say ‘bout always bein’ my frien’.”
Then Mamba handed Hagar a ten-
dollar bill from her pocketbook and
gave her instructions: “Listen! Ah
been t’inkin hard. Now yo’ hit it
out an’ hide. Dat’s bad, but if yo’
stay roun’ here, you’ll be gibbin yo’-
self away by mornin’; so dere ain’t
nuttin’ fo’ it. If Baggart catch yo’,
keep yo’ mout’ shet. Don’t say so
much as yes or no ’til Ah sen’ mv
boss or Mr. Saint to talk for yo’. Ef
yo’ open dat fool mout’ ob yourn,
nottin* Ah can do’ll sabe Lissa. Now
you unnerstan’?"
Full of her plan-making, Mamba
turned to leave her daughter. She
felt a gentle tug at her sleeve and
faced Hagar again, impatient at the
delay. ,
“Well," she snapped, “who yo’ want
now?”,
Hagar made one of her gauche
childish gestures toward the automo-
bile. “She wouldn’t (care so much—
ef Ah go an’ tell she good-bye?”
Mamba caught her breath sharply,
and suddenly she was no longer mere-
ly the fierce intelligence that drove
that inarticulate, powerful machine
in the service of the grandchild, but
Hagar’s own mother, feeling her
child’s loneliness and sorrow in her
own spirit.
She took one of the big, beautiful-
ly made hands and drew Hagar for-
ward, speaking gently as they plod-
ded through the heavy white sand:
“Ah sorry, Daughter, Ah mighty sor-
ry—Ah got t’inkin so hard Ah fuh-
get. Ah say hard t’ings Ah ain’t
mean. It ain’t fuh me—Ah jest stu-
dy all de time ’bout dat gal an’ my
mind seem like it dry up on odder
t’ing.”
Hagar stopped beside the car. The
girl sitting alone on the rear seat
looked up, and the eyes of the two
met. For a moment they stood so
in a silence that was eloquent with
emotions that speech could only have
cheapened and tarnished. So long
since the cord had been severed cen-
turies lay between them now—and yet
in that fractional part of a minute
life beat out again from the heart
of the big black woman, throbbing
in her child, and coursed refluent and
warm back through her own being.
Hagar lifted one of Lissa’s hands and
humbly, yet with a certain possessive
pride, kissed it upon the open palm.
But in a sudden tumult of emotion the
girl snatched her hand away, flung
her arms around her mother’s neck,
and kissed her again and again.
The car gave a warning shudder,
and the women separated. Hagar
said, “Good-bye, chile. Don’t be fraid.
Nuttin’ goin’ hahm yo’." And the
tenderness. Mamba with her one ides
^^^
sa—Lissa! He was reminded of the
time she had made him take Hagar
in at the mines. Would he never
free of Mamba’s daughters? What
was there about her that could bound
a man across the miles and make him
feel like a cur until he did her bid-
ding? A comical old Negress a thou-
sand miles away, and yet, somehow,
he felt that he dare not go back and
meet her eyes unless he had respond-
ed to her summons for help.
He found himself calling a famil-
iar number. Valerie’s voice—even
over the ’phone, that dewy, early
morning quality that made his heart
hang a beat. Good God! he hadn’t
thought yet what to say. How could
he put it?
“Val, I’m desolated, broken-heart-
ed. Promise you’ll forgive me for
what I am going to say. No. Not
that—not that—I am sorry I scared
you. It’s that I can’t meet you at
noon. There’s something else I have
to do. . . Well, it’s awfully hard to
explain over the ’phone. There’s a
girl coming up from Charleston I’ve
got to go and meet. . . . Mamba’s
granddaughter Lissa. You remem-
ber her, don’t you? . . . Yes, she’s in
some sort of trouble, and Mamba haul
gotten mother to telegraph asking me
to meet her at the noon train. , . .
Jove, you’re a dear. Three o’clock,
then—at Tiffany’s. You’re an angel,
Val."
Wentworth did not at once recog-
nize his protege when she came up
the stair from the lower level in the
stream of passengers. He had been ■
looking for the girl whom he re-
membered vaguely as being slender
and pretty with eyes like those of
Mamba and Hagar and who, also, 1
would now be in trouble. It was not
until he could have touched her with
his hand that he recognized her. Tak-
en from her familiar matrix and
placed before. Saint against the novel
setting of the vast station, she stood
out for the first time, not _as Mam-
ba’s grandchild to be taken as a mat-
ter of course, but as Lissa Atkinson,
with an individuality of her own.
Wentworth was startled? If was as
though he saw her for the first time.
She was clad in a modish tailored
suit of dark blue with a flash - of
bright embroidery on collar and cuffs,
and carried a small blue umbrella
suspended from her wrist by a loop.
Wentworth’s glance took in the slen-
der, superbly carried figure and the
expressive face with its small full-’
lipped mouth and Mamba’s eyes. I
She met his gaze and flashed him
a look of surprised, almost incredu-
lous, recognition. “Why, Mr. Saint!”,
she exclaimed. “What on earth are
you doing here?”
“Hello, Lissa,” he answered. “Did-
n’t you know that Mamba sent me a
message to meet you and help you
get settled?"
“Why, no. You see I left in a
hurry. She must have heard of your
being here after she told me good-
bye. That’s just like Grandma. She
thinks of everything.”
The girl’s self-possession was colos-
sal, almot disconcerting. Saint took
her small valise. There was something
at once flattering and embarrassing
about the unquestioning way that she
put herself in his hands.
They stood under the vast dome,
with scurrying humanity brushing
past them, and Wentworth wondered
what to do next.
“Have you any place to go?” he
asked.
Lissa opened her handbag and pro-
duced a Book of Common Brayer.
Then she opened it at the flyleaf and
presented it to Saint.
He studied the inscription for a
moment. Of course—the Reverend
Thomas Grayson. In his mind’s eye
arose a picture of a broad, imagi-
native face with heavy earnestness of
purpose, - iueW b trte.7
“What luekl” he exclaimed, his ex-
pression clearing. “We’ll hop in •
taxi and go right up.”
Safely in the cab, which was
threading its way toward Harlem,
Wentworth was free to give his whole
attention to the problem of his travel,
ling companion.
She sat back in her corner and."
with that complete faith in his will-
ingness to assume her responsibili-
ties that had embarrased him in the
station, told him simply and with
complete self-possession what had oc*
curred. -' ,• >
When she had finished he gave a
low, expressive whistle.
“Well, I must say," he commented,
“you don’t seem to be afraid of the
next moment they were gone among
the mists and shadows.
••••
Saint Wentworth sat in the lobby
of the Pennsylvania Hotel and im-
patiently watched the hands of a
clock that seemed to have been striek-
on with creeping paralysis. At noon
he was to meet Valerie over ‘on the
avenue and select the ring. It was a
terribly complicated business, getting
married in New York. Saturday they
had got the license. Simple enough,
he had been told—a few minutes at
the Municipal Building—that was all.
They had gone together, blinded by
a new glamour in the air, and feeling
themselves marked for public notice
by the magnitude and unusual nature
of the step that they contemplated.
But upon their arrival at the vast
down-town structure they had been
both reassured and chagrined to find
themselves in a queue half ■ block
long, sandwiched between a frankly
infatuated Negro couple and a pair
who made love in foreign liquid syl-
ables. It was odd how many people
had the same idea. Then there was
the big room with long tables where
couples sat, while Eros, in the guise
of an officious elderly man, leaned
between them and explained in lucid
and complete detail the meaning of
certain perfectly obvious and embar-
rassingly personal questions. Saint,
very red, tried to forestall him by ex-
plaining that they both understood.
It was no use. The man was,filled
with the zeal of a public servant who
glories in doing well and conspicuous-
ly work that occasions no effort.
And now today there were more de- .---------- - -
tails—more complications. The min- consequences as far as you are con
ister had to be seen again and forms
prepared. Saint had telegraphed
home for a copy of his birth certifi-
cate and had not received a reply. It
seemed that you could not be married
in New York without documentary
evidence that you had been born. The ----------
fact that you could be seen, touched, care provoked a very pertinent ques-
even separated from a fee, were in-
conclusive evidences of existence.
Only eleven-twenty. No use to start
yet and have to cool his heels on the
Avenue. ..........,.........
His thoughts drifted to another
p
fee
cerned.”
“I am not,” she replied confident-
ly. “Grandma and Mamba’ll fix it
at home; there’s nothing they can’t
fix. And I have you to look after
me here.”
This alarming surrender to his
tion.
poxnexo
Text by ROLFE DELLON
Drawn by FRED B. WATSON
% 3.4thore.
Jack’s stay to Garretme borovor
it to a s
. matter.
He was brought to earth by the
sound of his own name droned in a
loud, monotonous voice. Good: that
would be the wire about the certifi-
cate. He signalled the boy and tore
open the envelope. The telegram
was from his mother. It said:
"Mamba’s granddaughter, Lissa in
trouble arrives New York noon train.
Mamba begs you to meet and assist
her.”
Good God! Couldn’t he even be
safe from the old responsibilities
here, and at the one time in life when
a man should be free? And Val-
just about their biggest moment—
buying the ring—then blissful hours
at the stores and decorator’s, plan-
ning for the new furnishings. And
now at the exact hour when she
would be awaiting him he was expect-
ed to respond to this unreasonable
and insane summons. Well, he’d be
damned if he would. Mamba, yes -
but not to the third generation.
Perhaps he could still catch Val by
’phone and postpone the engagement.
But why think of that when he had
decided against going ? He tore the
yellow slip, balled it up, and volleyed
it at a waste-papper basket. Then he
went through an instinctive hand-
* * *
Whew! Hagar may be slow-witted .
but she knows how to protect her
daughter, Lissa. -
In the meantime, how will Lissa
spend her new freedom in sophisti-
cated New York?
Don’t miss the last installments!
P
ippine Solons
Foot Governor Davis
Manila, P. I.—(ANP)—Governor-
General Dwight Davis has been learn-
Ing something of oriental diplomacy.
The former secretary of war, who
hails from Missouri, lost most of the
bills which he espoused in the last
legislature through his refusal to
play.a reciprocal game on measures
which the brown legislators wanted.
P^ ^ ^ ^^
who won both the fru
^
war change his viewpoint. °
The largest rive
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Richardson, Clifton F. The Houston Informer (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 11, No. 33, Ed. 1 Saturday, January 11, 1930, newspaper, January 11, 1930; Houston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1637694/m1/7/?q=%22~1%22~1&rotate=270: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rice University Woodson Research Center.