The Gentleman With the Green Tie

EZEKIEL, with Archelus on his right and Tiberius and William Henry on his left, stood outside the big Assembly Hall and watched a mysterious, swaying conclave of people pour in.

‘It’s de confe’nce,’ he explained briefly. ‘ It’s de confe’nce where’s ’bout de culled people.’

‘W’at yer mean, ’bout de culled people?’ questioned Archelus irritably. ‘ W’at yer mean, it’s de confe’nce, anyway?’

‘W’y, it’s where dey all talks ’bout ’em. Doan’t yer know, it’s where dey talks ’bout uplif’in’ de culled people, ’n’ ’bout how dey’s gwine help ’em.’ Ain’t yer nuver hyeah ’bout it?’

‘Shuh! Ain’ dey talk ’bout nuth’n’ ’cep’ de culled people?’ demanded Archelus with a certain fine scorn, unquestionably effective. ‘Doan’ look like it’s sense ter talk ’bout ’em all time, is it?’

‘I doan’ know ef it’s sense or not,’ ruminated Ezekiel dryly, ‘but it’s de onlies’ thing dey does, anyway.’

‘Ain’ dey say nuth’n’ ’bout de w’ite people?’ ventured Tiberius politely.

‘W’y, no, dey ain’ tekken no time fer de w’ite people, cuz ef dey given all dey time ter de culled people, w’y, co’se ’t ain’ no time lef’ fer nuth’n’ else, is dey?’

Archelus looked decidedly gloomy over the situation.

‘Well, look ter me like dey oughter tekken some time fer ’em, anyway,’ he muttered.

‘Look so, too,’ agreed Ezekiel broadly.

‘I s’pose somebody tekken de time fer ’em, doan’ dey?’

‘I ain’t r’ally sho’ ef dey is or not. Trouble is, look like de w’ite people is all time thinkin’ ’bout uplif’in’ de culled people — ’n’ de culled people —’

Archelus appeared to be waiting in something like suspense.

‘Well, de culled people ain’ thinkin’ ’bout nuth’n’.’

All three listeners glanced about in brief concern.

‘Cert’nly is true,’ continued Ezekiel, ‘sometime look like dey doan’ do nuth’n’ but trifle. W’y, yer ain’ nuver seen ’em start no confe’nce ter talk ’bout uplif’in’ de w’ite people or nuth’n else, is yer?’

They all appeared to be searching their memories diligently.

‘Well, I doan’ reckon yer is, anyway. ’N’ trouble is dey’s ser triflin’ dey doan’ wanter was’e dey time on it.’

‘’T ain’ right fer ’em ter be like dat, anyway,’ ventured Tiberius once more.

‘No, ’t ain’ right fer ’em, ’n’ co’se ef dey stop ’n’ putten dey mines on it dey kin see ’t ain’ right. ’N’ yit dey’ll se’ down on a cheer, ’n’ ’t ain’ nary one uv ’em where’s gwine was’e no time uplif’in’ nuth’n’.’

Archelus hardly seemed to feel in sympathy with the subject from any standpoint.

‘Well, ef yer is gotten de time fer it, w’at yer gwine do ’bout it, anyway?’ he inquired somewhat testily.

‘Well, I doan’ know—’ Ezekiel pondered. ‘Co’se yer wanter think all time ’bout w’at yer kin do — ’n’ mos’ eve’y time yer see anybody comin’ ’long, yer wanter stop ’n’ putten yer mines on ’em, ’n’ ef it’s any way dey is need uplif’in’, w’y, dey’s mos’ sho’ ter show it right off.’

‘W’at yer mean, dey’s mos’ sho’ ter show it right off?’ put in William Henry, who, up to this point, had been but a modest listener.

Ezekiel glanced out into the broad walk where two belated persons approached the conference hall with rapid steps.

‘Well, jes’ looker de gen’leman wid de green tie, where’s comin’ ’long wid de lady right now,’ he suggested easily. He gave a second glance at the door leading into the hall. ‘Ef dey eider one uv ’em needs uplif’in’, w’y, dey’s mos’ sho’ ter show it ’fo’ dey gits ter dat do’ yonder.’

Every eye fixed itself conscientiously on the two in question, and the pair came bravely on, quite unconscious of the ordeal to be passed or the judgment to be meted out.

‘We’re late, you see,’began the man irritably, ‘it’s ridiculous to go in at this hour.’

The little woman at his side hurried on with an anxious face.

4I’m afraid so,’she agreed timidly, ‘but I had to get the things into the suit-case. We shan’t have much more than time to get the boat, as it is.’

The man pulled out his watch.

‘Half-past three,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m supposed to address this meeting.’

‘It’s too bad,’ apologized the other, her nervous glance hovering uneasily on his face, ‘but you were n’t waiting for me, were you? You did n’t seem to have finished dinner.’

‘Please don’t talk to me, Harriet!’ snapped the man, the ugly line between his eyes deepening visibly; ‘ I’ve got enough on my mind, without listening to you.’

The other murmured something indistinctly, and they both walked up the steps and into the hall of the conference.

The corps of judges glanced briefly at each other for a moment, without comment. Then Archelus disburdened himself briefly.

‘Shuh! Dat ain’ no way ter speak.’

‘Look like he ain’ spoke ve’y nice to ’er, anyway,’ agreed Tiberius unreservedly.

‘Ain’ I tole yer so?’ broke out Ezekiel, conscious of a certain triumph, perhaps difficult to define. ‘I reckon fum de way he spoke she’s de lady where’s ma’ied to ’im,’ he added philosophically.

They strolled in silence across the grass and stopped again under one of the big wings of the same far-reaching building.

‘Yer kin see fer yerselfs he ain’ spoke to ’er jes’ right,’continued Ezekiel, ‘’n’ it’s jes’ ez I tole yer. Ef anybody needs uplif’in’, w’y, dey’s mos’ sho’ ter show it.’

‘W’at yer gwine do wid ’im?’ questioned Archelus gloomily.

His entire effect bespoke unquestionable extermination of some sort. It was apparently only a question of the most desirable method.

‘I dunno w’at yer is gwine do wid ’im,’ pondered Ezekiel. ‘Look ter me like oughter somebody git talkin’ wid ’im.’

‘Shuh! I ain’ gwine git talkin’ wid ’im!’ objected Archelus, in something like wrathful panic at the notion.

‘Well, I ain’ say yer is. But I s’pose ef he spoke ter yer ’n’ ax yer ’pinion on de subjic’, w’y, I s’pose yer kin answer ’im, cyan’t yer?’

The possibility of such a request had evidently not occurred to Archelus.

‘Well, w’at’s I gwine answer ’im ef he is ax me?’ he demanded, his jaw dropping weakly with fear alone.

‘Ef he is ax yer — ’ Ezekiel paused thoughtfully. The subject was certainly worthy of consideration. ‘Ef he is — w’y, ’t ain’ nuth’n’ ter be skyeered ’bout, is it? Jes’ ’splain’ to ’im yer seen ’im w’en he spoke de way he did, ’n’ co’se’t wan’ a ve’y nice way ter speak, ’n’ yer’s s’prise ter see he done it. ’N’ den co’se ef he ax yer w’at he is oughter say, well — w’at’s yer gwine answer ’im den?’

‘I dunno,’ replied Archelus feebly.

‘Well, I s’pose yer wanter given ’im a good answer den, anyhow, doan’t yer?’

Archelus appeared either unable or unwilling to respond. Ezekiel looked plainly worried.

‘Look ter me like yer ain’ tekken no int’res’,’ he commented. ‘But ef yer’ll stan’ up dere jes’ a minute — ’n’ mek b’lieve yer’s de gen’leman wid de green tie, w’y, I’ll ’splain to yer de way yer oughter answer a lady w’en she speak to yer.’

Archelus, standing to impersonate the gentleman with the green tie, looked so inadequate to the part that Ezekiel’s anxiety increased.

‘Seem like p’raps I kin tell yer better ef I’se de gen’leman wid de green tie, myself,’ he declared finally.

Archelus merely nodded assent.

‘Well, dat’s w’at I is, anyway. G’long now, you kin ax me a question, Archelus.’

And chosen, apparently, for the difficult and delicate rôle of the helpmate of the gentleman in question, Archelus rose with sudden brilliancy to the emergency.

‘I s’pose we’s late,’ he hinted politely, ‘ but yer’s eatin’ yer dinner, ain’t yer?’

Ezekiel regarded him with a rare, tolerant smile.

‘W’y, I s’pose we is late, Ha’iet, ef yer ax me,’ he agreed, ‘but ’t ain’ nuth’n’ wuth mentionin’, is it? ’N’ mo’n all dat, ef yer’s ter given me my choice, I mos’ gen’ly rudder be late, anyway.’

The impersonator of Harriet sat down comfortably and looked at the view.

‘Yer ain’t rudder be late ter school, is yer?’ put in William Henry, not entirely grasping the situation. ‘Miss No’th’s gwine git after yer ef yer is.’

‘Hush yer noise, William Henry,’ admonished the acting gentleman with the green tie. His eye fixed itself on the seated Harriet again.

’I tole yer ’t ain’ nuth’n’ ter wo’y ’bout, Ha’iet,’ he repeated pleasantly, ‘ ’n’ mo ’n all dat, ef yer gitten anywhere right on time, w’y, p’raps it’s gwine mek trouble, too. Yer cyan’ be r’ally sho’ ’bout it. Anyway, it’s a gen’leman I hyeah ’bout once where start out to a confe’nce, ’n’ he say he ain’ gwine be late nudder. But trouble wuz he gotten dere too early. W’y, he gotten dere ser early, he se’ down on de steps ter wait, ’n’ he set dere waitin’ ser long he gotten feelin’ kine o’ po’ly. ’N’ time de res’ come dey seen he feel ser po’ly he ain’ sca’cely know ’em by sight.

‘“W’at mek yer come ser early?” dey say.

‘ “I dunno,” he answer ’em, “ I wisht I ain’t.”

‘ ’N’ he spoken de trufe, cuz he ain’t nuver feel de same sence it happen.

4’N’ it’s a lady I hyeah ’bout once where start out to a confe’nce, ’n’ she gotten dere right on time, too. Only she trip ez she’s gwine up de steps, ’n’ reach out ter cetch ’erself, ’n’ twis’ ’er wris’ a li’l’, so it r’ally disable ’er fer mos’ all summer.

‘ ’N’ it’s anudder lady I hyeah ’bout where start out to a confe’nce, ’n’ she gotten dere jes’ on time. Only she slip ez she’s openin’ de do’, ’n’ stump ’er toe, so she’s ’blige walk lame fer mo’n fo’ five weeks.

‘’N’ it’s anudder gen’leman I hyeah ’bout where start out to a confe’nce, ’n’ he gotten der jes’ zackly on time. Only he wrench ’is knee ez he’s a-shettin1 de do’, so it r’ally cripple ’im twell ’bout Chris’mas time.’

‘Ain’ dey nobuddy gotten fru de do’ ’thout gittin’ injure’?’ put in Tiberius anxiously.

‘ W’y, ya’as, Tibe’ius, I tole yer de gen’leman wrench ’is knee jes’ ez he’s a-shettin’ de do’. But he stay ter de confe’nce jes’ same, only he limp ez he’s gwine up de aisle.’

Ezekiel paused.

‘Well, co’se yer kin see,’ he continued, ‘it’s better ef de gen’leman wid de green tie’s spoke some sech a way’s dat, w’en de lady ax ’im ef dey ain’t late. He oughter ’a’ ’splain it to ’er like dat. ’N’ den co’se w’en she kin see ’t ain’ r’ally safe ter git nowhere right on time, w’y, co’se she’s gwine feel better ’bout it. But ef she ain’t, w’y, I s’pose he kin tell ’bout how he knowed ’bout a confe’nce once, ’n’ dey all uv ’em gotten dere on time, ’n’ dey come up a kine o’ rough sto’m ’n’ blown ’em all ter pieces. ’N’ ef dat ain’ ’nough fer ’er, w’y, he better change de subjic’ ’n’ talk ’bout sump’n’ else.’

The seated Harriet was looking up at him with something like real admiration.

‘How yer mean change de subjic’?’ she inquired with interest.

‘Well, sump’n’ like dis.’

Ezekiel glanced about till his eye chanced to fall on a small, brown sparrow, perched on a bush opposite. Then he looked down benignantly.

‘Yer see dat spa’, I s’pose, Ha’iet?’ he suggested politely.

Harriet grunted a meek affirmative.

‘Well, she ain’ set ve’y strong on dat branch anyhow, is she?’

‘I ain’ see but she set strong enough,’ mumbled Harriet, with an evident effort after the truth.

‘No, she ain’t,’ came the cheerful objection, ‘she ain’ set strong — or easy nudder, ’n’ reason is she’s ’fraid de branch ain’ gwine hole ’er.’

Harriet, and all the others, in fact, made a hasty examination of the sitting attitude of the small, brown bird on the branch.

‘Oh, she ain’ no cause fer wo’y,’ put in Tiberius; ‘’t ain’ nuth’n’ de matter wid dat branch.’

‘Mebbe ’t ain’, Tibe’ius, but she’s a-wo’yin’ ’bout it jes’ same. Look ter me like she’s ’fraid ter set dere, ’n’ she’s ’fraid ter fly erway. Cuz ef she set dere she know de branch’s gwine bus’ ’n’ let ’er down — ’n’ ef she fly erway, w’y, prob’ly somebody’s gwine shoot ’er.’

Beset by danger upon every side, however, the unfortunate bird still retained her hold upon the branch.

‘Is yer like birds, Ha’iet?’ came the graceful query.

Harriet nodded.

‘I s’pose yer ain’t like ’em well ’nough ter let ’em peck yer eyes out, is yer?’

Harriet was evidently weighing the arguments both for and against such a possibility.

‘I s’pose ef yer like ’em well ’nough, yer would n’ cyare. Somebody hyeah ’bout a boy once where like ’em ser well he ’low ’em ter peck bofe ’is eyes out.’

‘Look ter me like he ain’ shown sense,’ put in Tiberius smoothly.

But at just this point, the harrowed bird on the branch, apparently considering anything better than a tormenting uncertainty of fate, had to all appearances decided to choose the lesser of two evils. At any rate she feebly cocked her eye and flapped her wing, and then she deliberately left her uncertain perch for dangers new. They watched her as she circled bravely up into the air and disappeared from view.

‘I jes’ spoke ’bout ’er,’ concluded Ezekiel easily, ‘ter show’t ain’ de leas’ trouble ter change de subjic’.’

But the voice of William Henry broke warmly on the stillness.

‘Look! Dey’s comin’ outen de confe’nce!’ he cried. ‘Jes’ look at ’em all a-comin’!’

Archelus rose hastily from the ground, and Ezekiel advanced a step toward the rapidly increasing company which poured out through the big door. Hurriedly they were striking off in different directions, the majority coming on, their eyes fixed on the wharf, which showed just beyond the long stretch of grass. The small group under the wing of the big building looked up, hardly noticed, and regarded the hurrying, passing faces.

‘Looker where’s comin’!’ whispered Tiberius excitedly. ‘ Looker de gen’leman wid de green tie!’

Archelus retreated rapidly into the shadow of the building, his threatening task of uplifting the white race looming large before him.

‘Oh, w’at yer skyeered ’bout, Archelus?’ mumbled Ezekiel. ‘He ain’ got no time fer askin’ nuth’n’.’

He came striding on and passed them, while the little, nervous woman still hurried by his side. Suddenly she stopped. He glanced over his shoulder irritably.

‘Go on, go right on to the boat,’ she urged, with an effort at great cheerfulness. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

‘You have n’t much time to lose,’ he returned quickly, and strode ahead while she stood there looking about her with the distressed, glancing eyes.

‘ I — forgot — to leave word about the suit-case!’ she whispered mechanically to his retreating figure. ‘It won’t be at the wharf! ’

She turned and moved swiftly out into the broad road, looking like a small, hunted thing which only sought escape.

‘She fergot it, ’n’ she’s ’fraid he’s gwine kill ’er, I reckon,’ announced Archelus pleasantly; ‘look ter me like he oughter ’ten’ to it ’isself, anyway.’

Ezekiel balanced uncertainly for a moment, his eyes moving rapidly from the wharf and the bright, trembling water, in the distance, to the little retreating figure flitting along in just the opposite direction in the broad road. Then he slowly followed her.

‘Yer cyan’t cetch ’er,’ declared Archelus easily, and Ezekiel broke into a comfortable run.

As the little person in the road heard the steps behind her, she turned and her glancing, nervous eyes looked down at him.

‘Oh, I wonder if you could help me!’ she began. It was the faint cry of hopelessness reaching out for anything.

Ezekiel looked back with slow, steady eyes.

‘Yas’m — I’ll help yer,’ he declared in protecting tones, ‘I’ll help yer!’ he assured soothingly. ‘I’ll — git yer bag fer yer!’

She glanced down at a small watch.

‘The boat goes in eight minutes,’ she whispered, ‘and it’s more than half a mile just to get there.’ She pointed to a high, familiar roof, showing dimly in the distance. ‘I — could n’t possibly do it. My heart — is n’t very strong. There could n’t anybody do it!’

Ezekiel looked up, his breath coming with soft, rapid sounds.

‘ I know where’t is! ’ he broke in, ‘ ’n’ I — I’ll git it fer yer!’

She put something into his outstretched hand. ‘They’ll understand. It’s my card.’

Then she put her hands lightly up before her face. ’But you could n’t possibly do it!’ she broke out. ‘Oh, it was so careless of me!’

‘I tell yer I’ll git it fer yer!’ persisted Ezekiel, his eyes damp and eager, ‘yer jes’ go back ter de boat now — ’n’ I’ll — git it fer yer!'

He swung suddenly away from her, and as her hands came down from her face, she gazed after him for a moment disconsolately. Then she turned and moved slowly back again toward the wharf and the bright, trembling water.

She was still moving slowly, her feet hardly lifting themselves from the ground. The boat was coming. Her eyes rested on it almost passively. It was sweeping majestically on, white and clean. In two minutes more it would have swept up to the little wharf and stopped there for a moment. Her tired eyes turned backwards again. But there was no one to be seen in the broad road.

‘ I told him he could n’t,’ she murmured, ‘I shall have — to go on — and tell Edgar. I don’t really see — how I could have forgotten — anything like that!’ Then suddenly she walked straight on with firm steps.

The boat was pointing its clean, white prow toward the little wharf and the waiting crowd — about to dock. She turned just once more, and her breath came faintly in her throat. That small, bending thing off there — just swinging round the corner of the big road — what was it?

‘Oh! If he could only — only get here!’ she choked weakly.

She ran down to the wharf with confused steps, and then she ran back to the grass, waving her thin, little arms excitedly. The people stepping on the boat turned and looked back at her curiously, and a man with a green tie stepped back on the grass.

‘Come, come, Harriet,’ he commanded, ‘what are you waiting for? You’re going to be left!’

But the crowd still poured on to the rocking boat, and she hardly looked at him.

‘Don’t you see!’ she whispered, ‘I — I forgot about it — are they going to wait ? ’

The man gave one swift look across the long, green stretches of grass, and then he darted back to the wharf with quick, loud tones of explanation and command.

And still the white boat rocked on the water and the small, bending figure, staggering wildly under its load, came lurching on.

On the decks, people leaned over and gazed curiously — while once again a man with a green tie dashed across the gang-plank to the grass.

‘Wait—jes’ a — minute!’came a faint, hoarse cry.

Then there was one final, reckless spurt of desperation across the last green stretch, — and he was there, dropping with a dull thud to the grass, while his burden was snatched swiftly from his hands and there were rapid footsteps rattling on the wharf.

‘Oh — it’s killed you! It’s killed you!’ came a faint sob in his ear.

He looked up dully. ‘Yer’ll miss— yer boat — doan’t yer — cry, — ’ he whispered confusedly.

He half heard the little sob again — and the footsteps once more — and then the boat swung round with a long, slow swish. He looked up. It was a hushed, intent line of faces that leaned over the deck; there was one small and haggard one, with tears still upon it — but it tried to smile, and a handkerchief waved down to him. Then — was it a whole line of handkerchiefs? And did he hear something else — like cheering? But he was only looking at the small, haggard face, and with his eyes never moving, he struggled slowly to his feet, and with a wan but determined smile, he waved his hand.

‘ Doan’t — yer — cry, — ’ he was whispering mechanically.

But something dropped from his hand. He looked down with puzzled eyes at a large and shining piece of silver on the grass. Then he seemed to remember.

‘He given it ter me — w’en he tukken de bag,’ he mumbled weakly. ‘ I s’pose — he given it ter me cuz — he’s tryin’ ter — uplif’ — de culled people.’

He stopped, still looking down uncertainly at the shining piece of silver.

‘Shuh! He ain’ fit ter uplif’ nuth’n’!’

He raised his head, and his eyes rested on the retreating boat. Then the smile crept back to his face again, and with a brave, almost gay, little gesture, he once more waved his hand.