In the afternoon, walking in the park with Bob, a new idea occurred to her. Why not, when school was over, try for a position as nursery governess? Such a place would be a grade above anything open to Hertha Williams, since as a governess she would not be a servant but would be received at her mistress"s table. Loving children, inclining, too, to an outdoor life, she might in this way secure a summer in the country and postpone her final decision. Tom"s comfortable advice to take her time remained with her, offering encouragement to this new plan. But the difficulty in the way of securing a position, the unfamiliar machinery of employment bureau, of advertis.e.m.e.nt, made her hesitate. It would mean publicity, the answering of questions, the entering of a new and perhaps unfriendly home. She who hated change ought not to have to make her way in an unfamiliar environment so soon again.
"Tell me about Tom-of-the-Woods," Bob demanded after she had been silent for many minutes.
"No," Hertha answered.
"Aw, come on," Bob said. "Tell about the night with the owl."
"Not now!"
"Aw, come on. That"s the part I like best. I bet he could see in the dark like a cat. Couldn"t he now? Couldn"t he see everything just the same, night or day?"
"There are the ducks!" Hertha cried, and hurried him to where the birds paddled in the lake and gave entertainment enough to push Tom-of-the-Woods into Bob"s limbo of forgetfulness if not into hers.
The week went wearily on. The warm days were conducive to idleness and in her discouragement Hertha worked erratically, studying far into the evening one night to drop her books entirely the next. On Thursday as she sat in her room looking idly at the sunset light as it faded from the sky, Mrs. Pickens knocked at the door.
"May I come in?" she asked. "Don"t make a light," as Hertha having given her a seat started to strike a match; "it"s pleasant to talk in the dark."
The two sat near one another looking into the trees.
"I"m thinking of a plan for the summer." Hertha was the first to break the silence.
"Not one that would mean leaving here, I hope?"
"It would mean leaving here. If I needed it would you give me a recommendation as a nursery governess?"
The question was utterly unexpected, and Mrs. Pickens answered with a jest. "Certainly. Shall I count d.i.c.k as the babe whom you have been teaching?"
"I wish you wouldn"t think so much about d.i.c.k!" There was irritation in the girl"s tone and dropping her banter Mrs. Pickens gave a.s.surance of her willingness to be of any service. "I suppose you want me to speak for your character," she went on, "and I can certainly answer for your disposition. You"re the easiest person to get along with I ever met. But Bob"s mother is the one to testify to your ability with children. You"ve been a G.o.dsend to her this spring. How the child has waked up. He"s much brighter and more interesting than before you came."
Stirring a little in her chair, leaning against the window to look out into the approaching night, Hertha made no answer to her friend"s praises and seemed to have forgotten the request that she had just made.
After a little she said slowly, "I had a brother----"
"_Had_ a brother? Why do you speak in the past? Nothing has happened to him, has there?"
"No, oh, no, but Bob makes me think of him when he was little, when he belonged to me. A little child belongs to you. Partly for that reason I"d like to be with little children."
"I"ll do what I can to help you, but why not get references also from the South?"
The question was asked hesitatingly and with no small amount of inquisitiveness. The mystery of Hertha"s past, that mystery that so deeply interested d.i.c.k, was growing in importance to his landlady.
Perhaps this evening in the friendly dark she might be able to probe it.
Despite her hope, she expected some monosyllabic reply followed by a silence that would prevent a continuance of the subject. She was totally unprepared for Hertha"s frank answer.
"You can see," the girl said, "that I have no connections now in the South. No one writes to me."
"Yes?" Mrs. Pickens ventured. Her voice was tender, sympathetic, trembling with curiosity.
Hertha said nothing further but looked out where the lamps had been lighted and glowed golden against the deep trees. Fearing lest she might lose the confidential talk she was expecting, the older woman continued gently: "I"ve often wondered what separated you from your people. Do you want to tell me what it was?"
"Some one"s sin."
The words were spoken into the night. The girl did not move her head as the older woman, with a cry, came to her.
"Your birth?" she whispered.
In the darkness Hertha nodded a.s.sent.
"Oh, my dear," stroking the soft curly head that was turned from her.
"And you didn"t know your people?"
"No, I was brought up among strangers."
"They were not kind to you perhaps?"
The head that Mrs. Pickens was stroking turned instantly from her touch and a voice said with a note of anger, "Not kind? They were heavenly kind. They did everything they could for me."
"You must have loved them then?"
"Of course, I loved them. I loved them better than any people in the world."
"Then you have some friends in the South whom you can turn to now, haven"t you?"
The question was asked in a bright voice as though hoping to bring something of cheer to the listener.
But Hertha with a shake of her head turned away and again looked into the street.
"Have you quarreled? Somehow I can"t think of you as quarreling, but I know how clans battle in the South. Did something occur to make you angry before you left? If that"s so, you"ll soon make it up and everything will be right again."
Hertha breathed fast. "I can"t see them any more," she whispered.
"Tell me why. Perhaps I can see some way to make things right."
"You? Why, it"s people like you and d.i.c.k who separate us!"
"What do you mean?" The woman rose and in the darkness tried to peer into the girl"s face. "What have d.i.c.k and I to do with it?"
She groped for some clue to this enigmatic statement. What a ridiculous thing to say. What indeed had she and d.i.c.k to do with it? What unless that they were southerners? And then there flashed before her eyes a paragraph in one of the southern newspapers that she was always reading, a half-dozen lines telling of a girl hidden among the Negroes, later to receive money and a name. She saw the column in the paper, at the top of the page to the right, where the extraordinary story stood. She had a poor memory but some things she visualized unconsciously but unforgettably, and this had been one. She could see every word now, as though she were reading it, except the name.
"What have d.i.c.k and I to do with all this?" she repeated with an attempt at a laugh. "We don"t believe in separating families. But it wasn"t your own family of whom you were speaking, was it? Didn"t they do anything for you?"
"Yes," Hertha answered. "When my grandfather died last October he left me two thousand dollars."
"Ah!"
That was all. The southern woman stood clutching a chair, her head reeling, the floor seeming to move beneath her feet. She was face to face with the incredible tale that her memory told her she must credit as the truth. The mystery then that surrounded d.i.c.k"s princess, his beautiful lady to whom he gave his humble devotion, was humiliating and sordid. Disgrace, hidden by a life among Negroes. Worst of all, the s.m.u.t of the blacks upon her since she desired to be with them again. This was the reason she had been so angry at d.i.c.k when he had raged against "n.i.g.g.e.rs." She had lived with them in their dark alleys, she had eaten and slept with the kinky-haired slave-race!
Slowly feeling her way past the dainty white bed, Mrs. Pickens reached the door. Her hand was on the k.n.o.b when Hertha struck a match. Suddenly the room was flooded with the yellow gas-light, blinding them both. The older woman put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the glare, and then resolutely drew it away and stared into Hertha"s face. She expected to find some change, some sign of those former detestable surroundings. But in the bright glow of the light the girl was more exquisite than ever. She tried to speak, to announce that she knew the truth, but she could not charge this aristocratic-looking young woman with the disgrace of having lived with "n.i.g.g.e.rs." Without a word she turned the k.n.o.b and left the room.
Hertha looked after her, startled. She had meant to tell her whole story, but something in the silence that had followed her answer to Mrs.
Pickens" last question frightened her, and too timid to speak further she had sought the comfort of the light. Then she saw her landlady, a strange, disgusted expression on her face, her nostrils distended as though detecting some distasteful smell, turn away and leave her alone.