The infants awaited the verdict in breathless anticipation.
“Ah guesses dey lak it mighty well.” The woman looked about her at the upturned mouths even as in a nest of fledgeling blackbirds. The financial extravagance daunted her. “Yo’all mought git one fo’ each two.”
Sore disappointment depressed the fledgelings.
Virginia sensed the prevalent dejection. “No,” she decided, “each child shall have one. Go on to Vivian’s, Ike.”
Now, Mr. Vivian maintained an establishment for the distribution of those mild refreshments appealing to youth. His fastidious soul endeavored to foster the delicate things of life. He dealt in sugars and syrups in preference to lard or kerosene. This spirit prevailed in his public parlors. Golden rays reflected in dazzling brilliancy in many mirrors from gilded grills. It was meet that in such a temple only the elect should partake of ambrosia. This thought exuded from every pore of Mr. Vivian. At times he spoke of it.
The world accepts a man at his own value. So, South Ridgefield appraised Mr. Vivian’s resort at his own valuation; but by no means does this mean that his clientele was limited. Far from it. The youth of South Ridgefield were not modest in their self-esteem. In spite of individual embarrassment, when first brought under the influence of the Vivian presence and decorations, they gathered daily in great numbers in the Vivian parlors, that the world might bear witness, through their presence, to their elevated social status.
Indeed, certain hardy and desperate spirits did, by continued presence and notable consumption of wares, become so bold that they dared to address the proprietor as “Bill,” and risked mild pleasantries as that the nectar was “rotten dope,” or that, through error, a “dash er onion or sumpin’” had been introduced into their sacchariferous cup. Such familiarity was for the few. Did not eye witnesses support tradition in evidence of the casting forth of the unworthy from the Vivian portals?
Had not reputable bibbers testified that certain dirty faced urchins, essaying early adventures in trade and tendering but five coppers instead of the eight, well known to be the post war value of the cone, been driven into the street with loud objurgation?
Likewise, there was the memorable episode of the drunken tramp. Stumbling into this resort of innocent youth under the belief that it was a saloon, he was summarily ejected by the police. For a time, a splintered mirror gave silent testimony to this banishment. It evidenced the casting of a root beer mug at the white coated soda dispenser by the vulgar varlet, obsessed by the delusion that he was enjoying the more thrilling sport of heaving a beer stein at a bartender.
But by far the greater number of refusals of service, with its corollary of altercation and throwings out, had to do with negroes.