But two things happened to make further wonder unnecessary. In my letter mailed last Sunday, I told you I had not seen the girls since Friday night. Well, on Sunday afternoon I went to Lillian Barton’s, as has been my custom for several weeks now. The usual crowd was present and we had a very nice time, I assure you. I got home about ten, and saw the dining room lighted up. I let myself in quietly, and went up to my room to write a letter home. I had been busy for some time when a voice spoke to me from the doorway, and I turned and saw Tommie smiling at me. I know even Saint Peter is going to be glad to see Tommie. I jumped up and greeted her very warmly.
“Thank you very kindly for your cordial welcome,” she said, “but I cannot stay. Genevieve wants you to come down. She has prepared the supper tonight, and wants you to sample it.”
“I am afraid I won’t be able to do justice to a supper,” said I, “but I shall be happy to go down, if only for the honor of having such a charming escort.”
“Now you are stepping out of your role, Godfather,” said Tommie as I followed her down the stairs.
But if only I had suspected what I was letting myself in for, I should not have followed so willingly. I expected, of course, the usual Sunday evening crowd, and was naturally surprised to see only Mrs. Rhodes, Genevieve, and Caroline at the table. Caroline’s face was flushed and she looked, for her, strangely embarrassed. It was evident that Mrs. Rhodes had been crying, and Genevieve was even more serious than usual. I looked from one to the other, and felt ill at ease. But the suspense was not of long duration, for Genevieve spoke up very quickly, in that precise, matter-of-fact way she has.
“We have just learned from Caroline the whole story of the affair in Baltimore Friday night. I need not say that we were shocked beyond words, nor shall I try now to express our gratitude to you, Mr. Carr. Tommie has made us understand very clearly what a service you have rendered us all, and to what pains you have gone on Caroline’s account. If we do not say much, you must not think us unthankful.”
I was embarrassed, naturally, and stammered something about it being a privilege to have been of the slightest service, and that I was sorry that Caroline had told them, and thus had given them pain which they might have been spared.
“I think she did perfectly right to tell us,” said Genevieve in her gentle, but prim voice.
Caroline is surely a bundle of inconsistencies, but among her many and diverse qualities, she seems not to number deceitfulness. She looked at me, blushing vividly, and without a trace of that bold manner she usually assumes toward me.
“I didn’t know quite how to show you that I was grateful, except to make a clean breast of it. I asked Tommie, and she said it was the right thing to do. So I did it, Old Grouchy. I know a dozen girls who would give a small fortune to be able to blush as you do. Will you look at him, folks?”
There was a general laugh, which broke the tension, and I think we all felt better for it, for Caroline seems so much more natural when she is bantering with someone.
It is nice to be a hero, even in a small way and in a tiny domestic circle, and I should not be truthful were I to deny that these moments were very sweet. Caroline had me sit by her mother, who, though a woman of few words, made her appreciation felt none the less. Genevieve presided over the meal. Caroline insisted on waiting on me herself, and it was not long before the atmosphere had lost its tension completely and we were laughing and talking quite normally.
Caroline’s confession, then, removed the necessity for any further secrecy, and when on Monday night a friend of Jeffreys came to say that the latter was remaining in Baltimore for several days, and had commissioned him to pack up his belongings, the last troublesome question was settled. My plan to give up my room was reconsidered, and Caroline and Tommie decided to take the room vacated by Jeffreys, for it was assumed that of course his friend, who was expected for Thursday and Friday, would not come.
Tuesday, Mrs. Rhodes had the third-floor front thoroughly cleaned, and in the evening we all pitched in and arranged it for the use of the two girls. At Caroline’s solicitation, I even loaned them two pictures of you. I found that, while Jeffreys and his friend were to take Caroline and Tommie to the game, the gap left by their defection was quickly filled by other eager aspirants, so my invitation was too late. We had a jolly lark fixing up the room, and then I phoned the delicatessen not far away, and had some things brought in by a small boy, and I showed them how an old campaigner can fix up a light collation. Since Sunday last Mrs. Rhodes has been treating me more like a son than a mere lodger, and while it is nice in a way, it is a trifle embarrassing, for it makes me feel as if I am being overpaid for the service I have been able to render. Even Genevieve treats me with distinguished consideration. Caroline and Tommie must certainly have laid it on! Trust them to see that a friend got all that was due him!
On Wednesday afternoon the three New York girls arrived, and late Wednesday night, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Downs, from Brooklyn. I wonder if you know the New York girls—two of the three are sisters, Sallie and Antoinette Cole, and Jessie Chester. The Cole girls are not half bad, and Miss Chester is a typical Manhattan girl as to clothes and general style. There has been a perfect cloudburst of young men hereabouts since early Wednesday evening. Genevieve, who is a quiet but very effective person, has evidently been doing some planning, for the whole crowd went to the Benedicts’ dance on Wednesday night under the escortage of personable young gentlemen. Tommie, having been invited by someone whom she did not deem desirable company, declined to go. As Verney had gotten me a bid, and as I had no company, I tried to get Tommie to go with me. Caroline, who had been depressed because Tommie was not going, helped me to persuade her, though I realize now that it was not the proper thing to do. Tommie has a very fine sense of what is right, and only the combined efforts of all of us succeeded in breaking down her resolution.
We had a wonderful time. In addition to the ladies of our own party, who in themselves would have been sufficient to ensure my having a delightful evening, I danced with Mary Hale three times, Lillian Barton twice, Mrs. Burt, the belle mentioned in a previous letter, and two or three others whose names are unknown to you. Under ordinary circumstances it was a time long to be remembered, but so much has happened in the few days that have elapsed since Wednesday that it has become a rather shadowy memory.
Thursday morning everybody went to the game, and it would take a letter in itself to tell you all the interesting things, but I can do no more than give you the sketchiest idea of it. The scene was the American League Ball Park on Georgia Avenue, situated a short block from the center of colored Washington, on the edge of its best residential district, and on the road from that district to the University. The park seats, I am told, twenty-two thousand people. While I lay no claim to proficiency in estimating crowds, I should say there were about twelve thousand people present. However, it was not the size, but the average quality of the crowd which was interesting and significant. Almost everyone was well dressed, large numbers were richly dressed, and too many were overdressed. All the great centers of colored population were represented, from Atlanta to Boston, and from Chicago to Atlantic City. Most of the women came to show their clothes, and, with the exception of the students, and those who had bets on the game, the major part of the crowd paid little attention to the contest itself, for the people and not the game were the real center of interest for most of them. From the viewpoint of the majority of the spectators, it was a social function, and not an athletic contest.
Hundreds of women, young women and mature women, were made up as if for a full-dress ball, and somehow “makeup” does not look well at ten o’clock in the morning on a sunny day. Clarice and Aloysius McGinnis were there, I assure you, and Clarice was too busy watching “the Joneses” to pay any attention to such an unimportant thing as a college football game. The tickets to the game ran from two dollars to one dollar and I judge that most of the people paid about a dollar and a half. I think the only mistake the management m
ade was in not asking five dollars for the best seats, for, if I have sensed correctly the psychological reaction of that crowd, most of those in the two-dollar seats would rather have paid five dollars, just to show the world how little it would mean to them.
Being a free lance, without attachments, I spent most of the time in the reserved box section and saw there practically all of my friends. Then during the intermission, I wandered about a bit, and looked them over. I saw signs of prosperity on every hand. Outside on Georgia Avenue and the streets adjoining there were hundreds of automobiles parked. Altogether the affair had its impressive features.
From the game I went home to freshen up a bit for a three o’clock dinner at the Hales’. Our house was a busy place, for there were to be twelve people at the table. While her mother, Genevieve, and Tommie helped with preparations for dinner, Caroline did the honors in the parlor. I managed to get her aside for a minute, and inquire about plans for the evening, and asked if I could be of service as an escort for any of them. She thanked me, and said she was sure I could. So I agreed to be ready by nine o’clock to go to the Coliseum, where the official university dance was to take place.
The dinner at the Hales’ was most enjoyable. They have a thoroughly attractive home, not so extravagantly furnished as some I have seen, but in very excellent taste. There were four other guests, all from out of town, and people I am sure you never heard of, so I shan’t waste any time over them. The dinner was fine, and beautifully served, and the good cheer was abundant. Mrs. Hale gave me the place at her right hand, and of course, I liked that. After dinner we had some music, two of the ladies sang, Hale played, and I sang. I left at about seven, with the promise that I should see them all again at the Coliseum, where everyone was going, it seemed.
When I arrived at the Rhodeses’, the house was full, what with the six guests and all the young fellows who had dropped in. In the group were chaps from New York, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh, besides the local contingent. All the outsiders had come down especially for the game, and several were planning to stay over Saturday. They surely had all the outward signs of prosperity. Most of them were in evening dress, for they planned to take in the various dances, and I found out that there were to be three big ones, at the Coliseum, Convention Hall, and the Lincoln Colonnade respectively. The first was under the official auspices of the University, the second was a public dance, and the last given by the university alumni association. Several of the young folks present were planning to go to all three.
A little after nine we all set out for the Coliseum, a very large hall in the downtown district. It was full when we arrived and the folks kept coming. Before we left it was estimated by someone that there were more than a thousand people present. It was practically impossible to dance, except in a most circumscribed area, and if you once lost your friends, you were likely not to find them again. I saw numbers of people I knew—just a flash, and then they had disappeared again. I had one dance with Mrs. Hale and I tried to find Miss Barton, but finally gave it up. I danced with our New York visitors, Genevieve, and Tommie. Caroline was not in sight most of the evening, being kept busy by both old and new admirers. Among her hangers-on were two very ardent wooers, both physicians, one a young fellow from New York, and the other a solid-looking middle-aged man from one of the North Carolina cities, Raleigh or Wilmington—I don’t know just which. The latter was at the Benedicts’ dance on Wednesday night and seemed quite bowled over by the little lady’s beauty. He came to the house Thursday right after dinner, Tommie tells me, and he just camped there until time for the dance, when he took most of the party in his Packard, a gorgeous car which must have cost at least four or five thousand dollars. Like many mature men, he seems to know what he wants when he sees it, and he is rather direct in his methods. He has eyes for nobody but Caroline, and she is enjoying the fun immensely. He said on Wednesday, I recall, that he was on his way to New York, and had just stopped over for the game, but Thursday night he said he thought he would see the festivities out. When he said that, I looked hard at Caroline, and she returned my look with an expression of the blankest and most demure innocence you ever saw.
From the Coliseum, which by eleven o’clock was so crowded as to be uncomfortable, most of us went to the Colonnade, where there was another crowd, and we finished the evening there, and went home thoroughly tired. I, for one, had a perfectly satisfactory day. As the pleasantest “nightcap” possible, I had a hearty good night handshake from Tommie, and a pat on the arm from Caroline, as they left me at my door to go to their temporary quarters in Jeffreys’ old room.
“You have been very kind, Mr. Carr,” said Tommie. “Thank you.” And she gave me her hand.
“Nice old Godfather,” chimed in Caroline, patting me on the sleeve.
I said the things obviously demanded by the occasion, and bade them good night. They had reached their door when I called them again.
“By the way, Caroline,” I said, “there is one problem in mathematics you won’t find in the school arithmetic.”
“What is that? What do you mean?” she asked unsuspectingly.
“It is this: Does a young fellow plus a Mitchell touring car equal an old fellow plus a Packard limousine?”
Tommie shouted with laughter, and Caroline blushed, and then made a face at me!
Next morning the girls went to a so-called breakfast dance at the Casino, given by a crowd of college fellows, under the auspices of one of the college fraternities. To judge from all accounts, they had a lively time at this affair. Personally, I decided that four evenings straight were enough punishment for me, without going to daylight dances also, but it seems that I am a “piker.” As far as I can learn, there were plenty of folks who have attended everything given thus far, and a lot of them are old enough to know better! Well, “There’s no accounting for tastes,” as the old woman said when she kissed the cow!
By the way, to change the subject a bit, I was at the Capitol Friday, watching the progress of the Dyer Bill. I say “progress,” but, Bob, those scheming birds in Congress are planning in cold blood to do it up. I have been following it pretty steadily now for some days, and there is really no hope, as I see it. I firmly believe the word was passed around some time ago, that the Republicans were to let the Democrats do it to death, while some of the former went through the motions of mourning. I met James Weldon Johnson as I left the Capitol, and he looked pale and worn, completely done up, in fact. He agrees that the bill is done for.
Genevieve and Caroline had planned a house dance for Friday night, so when I got home the place was quite transformed. The furniture had been shifted about, some of it moved out, the rugs taken up, and the floors polished. I never before realized how big the house was. As there was to be another big “frat” dance Friday night, Genevieve asked her guest to come early so that those who had to go to the “frat” affair could take in both. The biggest crowd was about nine-thirty, but by ten-thirty a large part of the college crowd had gone, and we had a very good time, indeed. Some of the girls were a little listless, having been dancing pretty steadily since Wednesday, but Caroline is a living wonder. Where she gets her vitality from I don’t know, but she is a regular fountain of energy.
The two rival physicians were present, and they came early and remained late, as if each was trying to outstay the other. It was like a play to watch them, and Tommie and I had a good time observing the fun. I have bet Tommie a five-pound box of Brownley’s best against two neckties that the old fellow wins. You should see him! He knows what he wants, and he is a fighter, a ruthless two-fisted fighter, and though the youngster is good looking and attractive, he is going to lose out, for he will get discouraged first. I can see already that he is losing his nerve. The old chap evidently has an important engagement in New York, for they phoned him over long distance twice on Friday night while he was at the house, but he is staying over until Sunday morning, I heard him say.
I never saw a man worship a girl more with his eyes than he does
Caroline. It is amazing to see the grip she has gotten on him in these few hours. And she knows it, too, the minx! To my mind, she looks too young and dainty and sweet for a grizzled chap like Dr. Corey, but, as I judge him from these few hours of observation, he is a rather high-minded man of real character. He is a widower, I hear, and has two grown children. For some unexplained reason, he seems to have taken a fancy to me, and to have the very mistaken notion that I have influence at court. At any rate, he has been cultivating me steadily, and when he’s not dancing attendance on Caroline, he hunts me up and talks about her. It’s very funny! Tommie has caught on to the situation, and has had a great deal of fun out of it.
After the dance was over Friday night—and we had a hard time getting rid of the doctor men—the family party, and I was honored by being included in it, assembled in the dining room, where Tommie and Caroline served us some very refreshing cocoa, and those who wanted it had more salad, ice cream, and cake.
“What is the program for tomorrow?” asked Antoinette Cole, looking at Caroline.
“A breakfast at ten tomorrow at the Whitelaw, as the guests of Dr. Corey, the Wellmans’ dance at three, and the fancy-dress party at night. If you are bored in the meantime, I am sure the doctor will take you sightseeing in his car.”
When Washington Was In Vogue Page 13