The Forged Note Part 62

He looked at her a moment keenly, winked his right eye, and then his left--then his right eye again, twice. She looked at him without understanding. He repeated it. She wondered what he meant. Presently he moved behind the counter, and returned with her order.

While she drank it, another, a woman came in. Mildred watched him incidentally. He repeated the winking process, while she glanced at the other, who repeated it. He went now to a room in the rear, and when he returned, he handed her something in a package. The woman gave him a half dollar, and waited for no change.

"You're a stranger about here, Miss?" he said, observing her a bit dubiously.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "I am a stranger about here."

"Oh, I see," he said, now gazing at her very keenly a few moments.

"You're one of the solicitors for the Y.M.C.A., I suppose," said he, after a moment's thought.

"No, sir, I am not," she replied with a start, and wondered why he asked her.

"They was a-planning t' have a meeting overhead here t'night, was why I asked," he said.

"Oh, is that so," she commented, and then added: "I am not connected with it in any way, but I am very much interested in it."

"Well, it's too bad," he said thoughtfully, "but I don't think we will ever get such a thing in this town. It's going to be a failure, so I hear."

"Indeed," she echoed, "how so?"

"Well, unless they get twenty-seven thousand dollars together in a week, it's sure to be. And 'f anybody c'n raise that many dollars, 's hard's times is now, I'd lak t' see them," he smiled grimly.

She wanted to ask him about Wilson, but hesitated. Had he returned? He was speaking again:

"They ain't had no word frum the secretary since he left. He went north some time ago, and it was hoped that he might succeed in raising the amount among the wealthy northern people. But it's dollars t' doughnuts that he don't. 'Cause I figure it's lak this: 'f he'd a-had any success up there, some word-a come back by now frum 'im."

So no word had yet come from Wilson Jacobs, and as she thought of his possible failure, all thought of herself and what had been in her mind a moment ago, left her. When she left the place she was calm. But where to go now was another problem. To go back to Mother Jane, never entered her mind. She wandered about for an hour. She now recognized the locality.

She was on the same street she had found upon her arrival in the city--Beal street. She walked up this for two blocks, and where many Negroes were a.s.sembled. Several picture shows greeted her, but she had no inclination for such amus.e.m.e.nt.

Presently she turned into another street that led down to the river. It was narrow and poorly lighted, and the people, what few she saw, were ragged and dirty, and forbidding. She walked some distance on this, until she came across another that led in another direction. Into this she turned aimlessly.

She had gone about three-quarters of a block, when her eyes, in glancing up, caught sight of a house, dark and weather beaten, with a glimmering light on the front, under which was written:

LODGING FOR MEN OR WOMEN RATES RIGHT

She paused. Her hand touched her forehead; it was hot and throbbing.

She felt tired, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. She hesitated, turned into the gate, and approached the door timidly. It was a forbidding place, she saw as she came nearer. The door hung weakly upon its hinges, while light came through the many cracks. She shuddered. How different it was from Mother Jane's, where everything was spick and span, clean and well kept. Oh, if she could be home now with Mother Jane! She wrapped lightly upon the door, and it seemed a long time before someone shuffled in that direction.

Presently, after a turning of bolts, or it seemed more like someone was drawing a peg out of a staple, with a squeak, the door opened about a foot. In the dim light, the face of an old woman looked out from a very wrinkled face.

"What d' ya want?" she asked gruffly.

"I see you have a sign up here," and she pointed upward, "that says rooms," she replied, timidly.

"Yeh. Is yu 'lone. Wha's yu man?"

Mildred shuddered, and then she recovered. She was tired and wanted to sleep. Tomorrow she would try to do better. She replied as politely as she could; "I am alone. I have no _man_."

"Hunh!" grunted the other, opening the squeaking door wide as she said: "Come in!"

Mildred entered and stood looking about her, while the old witch regarded her suspiciously.

"So you're alone, uh? Got no man. Hunh! That's funny." She hobbled to where a lamp set, with chimney smoked, and upon which a crack had been patched with paper. "There's a chair. Sit down, gal." She shuffled about, and when the light was better, by turning it up a bit higher, she came near where Mildred sat, and took a seat in an old rocker which had a sack filled with straw, to make it more comfortable.

"How much do you charge for your rooms?" Mildred inquired.

"Two bits when you're alone. Thirty-five cents if yu got a man." Mildred had surmised that would be the charge, and had the amount ready. She didn't care to have this witch see that she had money. She handed her the quarter. The old creature took it, held it to the light, and examined it a moment before she dropped it into an old pocket.

"Wantta go t' bed now?" the other inquired, a little kinder than she had spoken before.

"I feel sleepy," said Mildred, and looked it.

"All right," said the other, rising with much difficulty. "Ah, gal, that's rheumatiz. Bad. When you gits lak dis, life don't hold much fo'

you."

Mildred tried to look sympathetic as she followed her, and murmured something inaudible.

They had entered a room now that corresponded with the remainder of the house, except that the ceiling seemed to be lower, and the room was a bit cleaner. A small fireplace was in one side of the wall, and the bed stood in an opposite corner. Two chairs, a table, a bureau, a wash stand and a pitcher with a clean towel spread over it, made up the meagre furnishings. A rag carpet covered the floor.

"I don't fu'nish fiah," said the other, when she saw Mildred's eyes rest for a moment upon the fireplace. If there were a fire, she now felt she would rest better.

"I should like to purchase some fuel of you to make a fire, if it is possible," she said.

"I'll sell you a nickel's wo'th."

"Very well. Bring it in." When the other was gone, she took fifty cents in change from her purse. She displayed this that the other might see and feel that she possessed little. A few minutes later, she was alone with a fire cracking in the grate, that soon made the room quite comfortable.

She retired when the room had become warm. The heat, in contrast with the air she had just come out of, made her yawn. So, after barring the door securely, she retired, and was soon fast asleep.

She might have slept for an hour, or it may have been only a minute, but she was slowly awakened by a stream of light that poured in through the window. She sat up suddenly, and blinked as the rays fell across her face, and saw that she had forgotten to draw the blind and that the moonlight was streaming into her room.

But it was not that alone which had awakened her. There was some commotion in the street, or rather, in the house next door. A wagon stood at the front, and into it, policemen were pushing men and women.

The wagon was a police patrol, and they were making a raid. In a few minutes it was all over, and, dropping back, she was soon asleep again.

CHAPTER TEN

"_Kick Higher Dare, Gal!_"

Christmas day had come and the whole country was gay and festive. In the city of our story, the sun shone beautifully, and from the way the birds sang, it was hard to believe it was late December. The streets, at an early hour, were filled with pedestrians seeking the open air, freedom and merriment. Fire crackers filled the air with noise; while the discharge of blank cartridges and an occasional gunshot, as well as a cannon now and then, added to the confusion. The sharp noises made many people start suddenly, and then smile when they recalled that it was Xmas day; the day when Jesus, our Saviour, came into the world, and began a Christian civilization.

But there was one person who was neither gay, merry, nor festive; although she had cherished hopes, dreams, and desires for that day.

Mildred Latham lurked in the confines of the room she had taken, seeing the world--a small part of it--from the window of the room she had taken a night or two before. She had remained in it ever since, venturing out only to get something to eat and drink. She was almost oblivious to the fact, that it was Xmas day, until the discharge of firearms and crackers came to her ears from the street. And then she awakened to the reality of what she would lose that day.

A Chinaman ran the restaurant where she bought her meals. At one of their stores, she had purchased a few dishes and a knife, spoon and a fork, so she brought the meals to her room, and ate the same at the table. She had no plans now for Xmas day. She tried to forget it, but the noise from the street did not permit her to do so. As the sun rose higher, the revelry became more p.r.o.nounced. She tried to forget the day Mother Jane and she had planned to spend together. She tried to shut out of her mind the day she might have spent with the Jacobs. And she tried, likewise, not to see the dreary day she must now perforce spend--alone.