THE MOTHER
She sat on one of the benches in the Morals Court. The years had made a coarse mask of her face. There was nothing to see in her eyes. Her hands were red and leathery, like a man's. They had done a man's work.
A year-old child slept in her arms. It was bundled up, although the courtroom itself was suffocating. She was waiting for Blanche's case to come up. Blanche had been arrested by a policeman for—well, for what? Something about a man. So she would lose $2.00 by not being at work at the store today. Why did they arrest Blanche? She was in that room with the door closed. But the lawyer said not to worry. Yes, maybe it was a mistake. Blanche never did nothing. Blanche worked at the store all day.
At night Blanche went out. But she was a young girl. And she had lots of friends. Fine men. Sometimes they brought Blanche home late at night. Blanche was her daughter.
* * * * *
The woman with the sleeping child in her arms looked around. The room was nice. A big room with a good ceiling. But the people looked bad. Maybe they had done something and had been arrested. There was one man with a bad face. She watched him. He came quickly to where she was sitting. What was he saying? A lawyer.
"No, I don't want no lawyer," the woman with the child mumbled. "No, no."
The man went back. He kept pretty busy, talking to lots of people in the room. So he was a lawyer. Blanche had a lawyer. She had paid him $10. A lot of money.
"Shh, Paula!" the woman whispered. Paula was the name of the sleeping child. It had stirred in the bundle.
"Shh! Mus'n't. Da-ah-ah-ah—"
She rocked sideways with the bundle and crooned over it. Her heavy coarsened face seemed to grow surprised as she stared into the bundle. The child grew quiet.
The judge took his place. Business started. From where she sat the woman with the child couldn't hear anything. She watched little groups of men and women form in front of the judge. Then they went away and other groups came.
The lawyer had said not to worry. Just wait for Blanche's name and then come right up. Not to worry.
"Shh, Paula, shh! Da-ah-ah-ah—"
There was Blanche coming out of the door. She looked bad. Her face. Oh, yes, poor girl, she worked too hard. But what could she do? Only work. And now they arrested her. They arrested Blanche when the streets were full of bums and loafers, they arrested Blanche who worked hard.
Go up in front like the lawyer said. Sure. There was Blanche going now. And the lawyer, too. He had a better face than the other one who came and asked.
"And is this the woman?"
The lawyer laughed because the judge asked this.
"Oh, no," he said; "no, your honor, that's her mother. Step up, Blanche."
What did the policeman say?
"Shh! Paula, shh! Da-ah—" She couldn't hear on account of Paula moving so much and crying. Paula was hungry. She'd have to stay hungry a little while. What man? That one!
But the policeman was talking about the man, not about Blanche.
"He said, your honor, that she'd been following him down Madison Street for a block, talking to him and finally he stopped and she asked him—"
"Shh! Paula, don't! Bad girl! Shh!"
That man with the black mustache. Who was he?
"Yes, your honor, I never saw her before. I walk in the street and she come up and talk to me and say, 'You wanna come home with me?'"
"Blanche, how long has this been going on?"
Look, Blanche was crying. Shh, Paula, shh! The judge was speaking. But
Blanche didn't listen. The woman with the child was going to say,
"Blanche, the judge," but her tongue grew frightened.
"Speak up, Blanche." The judge said this.
* * * * *
She could hardly hear Blanche. It was funny to see her cry. Long ago she used to cry when she was a baby like Paula. But since she went to work she never cried. Never cried.
"Oh, judge! Oh, judge! Please—"
"Shh, Paula! Da-ah-ah-ah—" Why was this? What would the judge do?
"Have you ever been arrested before, Blanche?"
No, no, no! She must tell the judge that. The woman with the child raised her face.
"Please, judge," she said, "No! No! She never arrested before. She's a good girl."
"I see," said the judge. "Does she bring her money home?"
"Yes, yes, judge! Please, she brings all her money home. She's a good girl."
"Ever seen her before, officer?"
"Well, your honor, I don't know. I've seen her in the street once or twice, and from the way she was behavin', your honor, I thought she needed watchin'."
"Never caught her, though, officer?"
No, your honor, this is the first time."
"Hm," said his honor.
Now the lawyer was talking. What was he saying? What was the matter?
Blanche was a good girl. Why they arrest her?
"Shh, Paula, shh! Mus'n't." She held the child closer to her heavy bosom.
Hungry. But it must wait. Pretty soon.
He was a nice judge. "All right," he said, "you can go, Blanche. But if they bring you in again it'll be the House of the Good Shepherd. Remember that. I'll let you go on account of her."
A nice judge. "Thank you, thank you, judge. Shh, Paula! Goo-by."
Now she would find out. She would ask Blanche. They could talk aloud in the hallway.
"Blanche, come here." A note of authority came into the woman's voice. A girl of eighteen walking at her side turned a rouged, tear-stained face.
"Aw, don't bother me, ma. I got enough trouble."
"What was the matter with the policeman?"
"Aw, he's a boob. That's all."
"But what they arrest you for, Blanche? I knew it was a mistake. But what they arrest you for, Blanche? I gave him $10."
"Aw, shut up! Don't bother me."
The woman shrugged her shoulders and turned to the child in her arms.
"Da-ah-ah, Paula. Mamma feed you right away. Soon we find place to sit down. Shh, Paula! Mus'n't. Da-ah-ah—"
When she looked up Blanche had vanished. She stood still for a while and then, holding the year-old child closer to her, walked toward the elevator. There was nothing to see in her eyes.