The next reel was much more original, she thought, and, therefore, more interesting—to her; but it wasn't to many of those about her, who, as she heard them, made little effort to catch the moral of it.
It was a play of present day life, in which the hero was a man employed as floor walker in a large department store, while the heroine was a girl, employed in the most insignificant position in the basement of the same. She studied the play, and was carried away with the great human interest conveyed in the plot. It was a difficult task to keep her mind and thoughts upon it, however, because all about her, many remarks came from impatient creatures, who continually muttered aloud, demanding that it be hurried off, and something with "ginger" put on.
"Hu'y, hu'y, 'n' git hit off! Git a gal out the' 'n' some song 'n' dancin'," said one who sat next to her, and who, she observed, was ragged and dirty in the bargain; his long, kinky hair stood erect on his head, and made him resemble something recently departed from the jungle.
When the vaudeville in connection therewith was put on, she was filled with disgust. It was not refined vaudeville, and in no way corresponded with the pictures that had preceeded it; but of the most vulgar sort. It brought shrill cries from the throats of those about her, and remarks that showed the character of the crowd.
"Put the sof' pedal on it, kid, ke-ha!"
"Dat gal sho kin' sing, nigga, believe muh!"
"Kick higher, dare, gal! You ain' done nothin'," growled one, who was not satisfied.
Mildred arose to go out. To get to the aisle, she must pass about ten people, mostly men in rough clothing. "Set down, gal, don' git in front-a me!" one next to her complained.
"Don' spile my gaze when dat gal's showing up lak she is," said another. With a sigh and a disgusted feeling, she sank back and made herself patient, until the disgusting performance was at an end. She had no trouble then, for all those between her and the aisle filed out ahead of her. Apparently they came to the show for the purpose of witnessing the vaudeville only.
When she was on the street again, the sun was getting toward the west, but she did not feel like going back to the hovel she called a room yet. The noise and music seemed to make her forget her troubles and worries, and, mingling with the masses that now filled the sidewalks, she followed them aimlessly along the street. She stopped before other shows, and, when, at last, finding one that appeared to have no vaudeville in connection with the pictures, and which did not appear to have such a big crowd about the entrance, she entered and took a seat toward the rear.