"And you sell a book?" inquired the elder woman, after a moment.
"Yes, ma'am, I sell a book. A book by a young colored author."
"By a young colored author? I do declare!" exclaimed the other, with enthusiasm. "It is delightful when I know we have young men who are doing something else besides making convicts." Mother Jane was known for her wit.
"What is the text of this story?" she inquired later.
Mildred told her.
"Delightful, to say the least." The elder woman had secured some learning in her childhood, and had studied by consistent reading, until she was well informed, and used the most perfect English. "Went out into the great west. To the Rosebud Country. Well, well. I read all about that country when it was opened to settlers some years ago. I wanted my son to go; but—he went elsewhere," and she paused to swallow, while a tear shone in her old eyes. Mildred spoke of other things. The other didn't say, but quick intuition told her that son had gone to the chain gang.
She had found this place two days after the visit that was paid her by the unwelcome guest. It was far removed from the black woman, and she was glad of it. And yet, when she was taking her leave, that apparently evil creature had shed tears and begged her to stay, saying that she would not be molested further. Mildred felt a human pity for her, but she knew she could not have stayed on. The longer she lived, the more she was learning that secrets are not good things to share with others, or for others to be in possession of, regardless of their good will thereto. She now knew that the only way she would have people to know these things, people she might chance to live with, would be to tell them before she moved into the house. To have them find out afterwards, and from others, would be, she felt, an infringement upon their kindness. As for the man who had, with his persistency, driven her from two places, she hoped he would not succeed in finding her in the present.
The following day, she went about her work with heavy heart. She felt she must continue in the work as long as she was in the city; and besides, she had accumulated many orders for the holiday trade, and could, with her efforts, secure many others. But it was not this alone that held her in this city, it was something else.
She was following the effort of Wilson Jacobs to secure the Y.M.C.A. Each week, she carefully noted the details in regard to the same, and had fearfully observed that it might fail. She was aware of the time limit, and she was worried over the lack of the twenty-seven thousand dollars. "How can he raise such a large sum in so short a time?" she asked herself many times each day. And yet she still hoped he would, even when less than four weeks were left in which to do so.
She had managed, by dint of economy and hard work, to accumulate almost two hundred dollars since she left them, and this she would give at the right moment, when she saw there was any possible chance of his succeeding. She would have to send it anonymously; but desire for his success was her gravest concern.