The Ways of White Folks (17 page)

“Yes, de meetin’ due to start directly.”

“Soon as Madam President arrives. Reckon she’s having trouble gettin’ over that road from High Creek.”

“Sit down and tell us what you’s heard, Sister Jenkins.”

“About Douglass?”

“Course ’bout Douglass. What else is anybody talkin’ ’bout nowadays?”

“Well, my daughter told me Douglass’ sister say they was in love.”

“Him and that white woman?”

“Yes. Douglass’ sister say it’s been going on ’fore de woman got married.”

“Un-huh! Then why didn’t he stop foolin’ with her after she got married? Bad enough, colored boy foolin’ ’round a unmarried white woman, let alone a married one.”

“Douglass’ sister say they was in love.”

“Well, why did she marry the
white
man, then?”

“She’s white, ain’t she? And who wouldn’t marry a rich white man? Got his own farm, money and all, even if he were a widower with grown children gone to town. He give her everything she wanted, didn’t he?”

“Everything but the right thing.”

“Well, she must not o’ loved him, sneaking ’round meeting Douglass in de woods.”

“True.”

“But what you reckon she went on and had that colored baby for?”

“She must a thought it was the old man’s baby.”

“She don’t think so now! Mattie say when the doctor left and they brought the child in to show her, she like to went blind. It were near black as me.”

“Do tell!”

“And what did her husband say?”

“Don’t know. Don’t know.”

“He must a fainted.”

“That old white woman lives across the crick from us said he’s gonna put her out soon’s she’s able to walk.”

“Ought to put her out!”

“Maybe that’s what Douglass waitin’ for.”

“I heard he wants to take her away.”

“He better take his fool self away, ’fore these white folks get madder. Ain’t nobody heard it was a black baby till day before yesterday. Then it leaked out. And now de white folks are rarin’ to kill Douglass!”

“I sure am scared!”

“And how come they all said right away it were Douglass?”

“Honey, don’t you know? Colored folks knowed Douglass been eyeing that woman since God knows when, and she been eyeing back at him. You ought to seed ’em when they meet in de store. Course they
didn’t speak no more ’n Howdy, but their eyes followed one another ’round just like dogs.”

“They was in love, I tell you. Been in love.”

“Mighty funny kind o’ love. Everybody knows can’t no good come out o’ white and colored love. Everybody knows that. And Douglass ain’t no child. He’s twenty-six years old, ain’t he? And Sister Carter sure did try to raise her three chillun right. You can’t blame her.”

“Blame that fool boy, that’s who, and that woman. Plenty colored girls in Camden he could of courted ten miles up de road. One or two right here. I got a daughter myself.”

“No, he had to go foolin’ round with a white woman.”

“Yes, a white woman.”

“They say he loved her.”

“What do Douglass say, since it happened?”

“He don’t say nothing.”

“What could he say?”

“Well, he needn’t think he’s gonna keep his young mouth shut and let de white folks take it out on us. Down yonder at de school today, my Dorabella says they talkin’ ’bout separatin’ de colored from de white and makin’ all de colored children go in a nigger room next term.”

“Ain’t nothing like that ever happened in Boyd’s Center long as I been here—these twenty-two years.”

“White folks is mad now, child, mad clean through.”

“Wonder they ain’t grabbed Douglass and lynched him.”

“It’s a wonder!”

“And him calmly out yonder plowin’ de field this afternoon.”

“He sure is brave.”

“Woman’s husband’s liable to kill him.”

“Her brother’s done said he’s gunning for him.”

“They liable to burn Negroes’ houses down.”

“Anything’s liable to happen. Lawd, I’m nervous as I can be.”

“You can’t tell about white folks.”

“I ain’t nervous. I’m
scared
.”

“Don’t say a word!”

“Why don’t Sister Carter make him leave here?”

“I wish I knew.”

“She told me she were nearly crazy.”

“And she can’t get Douglass to say nothin’, one way or another—if he go, or if he stay.… Howdy, Madam President.”

“Good evenin’, Madam President.”

“I done told you Douglass loves her.”

“He wants to see that white woman, once more again, that’s what he wants.”

“A white hussy!”

“He’s foolin’ with fire.”

“Poor Mis’ Carter. I’m sorry for his mother.”

“Poor Mis’ Carter.”

“Why don’t you all say poor Douglass? Poor white woman? Poor child?”

“Madam President’s startin’ de meetin’.”

“Is it boy or girl?”

“Sh-s-s-s! There’s de bell.”

“I hear it’s a boy.”

“Thank God, ain’t a girl then.”

“I hope it looks like Douglass, cause Douglass a fine-looking nigger.”

“He’s too bold, too bold.”

“Shame he’s got us all in this mess.”

“Shame, shame, shame!”

“Sh-sss-sss!”

“Yes, indeedy!”

“Sisters, can’t you hear this bell?”

“Shame!”

“Sh-sss!”

“Madam Secretary, take your chair.”

“Shame!”

“The March meeting of the Salvation Rock Ladies’ Missionary Society for the Rescue o’ the African Heathen is hereby called to order.… Sister Burns, raise a hymn.… Will you-all ladies
please
be quiet? What are you talking ’bout back there anyhow?”

“Heathens, daughter, heathens.”

“They ain’t in Africa neither!”

——

S
TANDING OVER THE HOT STOVE
cooking supper, the colored maid, Arcie, was very tired. Between meals today, she had cleaned the whole house for the white family she worked for, getting ready for Christmas tomorrow. Now her back ached and her head felt faint from sheer fatigue. Well, she would be off in a little while, if only the Missus and her children would come on home to dinner. They were out shopping for more things for the tree which stood all ready, tinsel-hung and lovely in the living-room, waiting for its candles to be lighted.

Arcie wished she could afford a tree for Joe. He’d never had one yet, and it’s nice to have such things when you’re little. Joe was five, going on six. Arcie, looking at the roast in the white folks’ oven, wondered how much she could afford to spend tonight on toys. She only got seven dollars a week, and four of that went for her room and the landlady’s daily looking after Joe while Arcie was at work.

“Lord, it’s more’n a notion raisin’ a child,” she thought.

She looked at the clock on the kitchen table. After seven. What made white folks so darned inconsiderate? Why didn’t they come on home here to supper? They knew she wanted to get off before all the stores closed. She wouldn’t have time to buy Joe nothin’ if they didn’t hurry. And her landlady probably wanting to go out and shop, too, and not be bothered with little Joe.

“Dog gone it!” Arcie said to herself. “If I just had my money, I might leave the supper on the stove for ’em. I just got to get to the stores fo’ they close.” But she hadn’t been paid for the week yet. The Missus had promised to pay her Christmas Eve, a day or so ahead of time.

Arcie heard a door slam and talking and laughter in the front of the house. She went in and saw the Missus and her kids shaking snow off their coats.

“Umm-mm! It’s swell for Christmas Eve,” one of the kids said to Arcie. “It’s snowin’ like the deuce, and mother came near driving through a stop light. Can’t hardly see for the snow. It’s swell!”

“Supper’s ready,” Arcie said. She was thinking how her shoes weren’t very good for walking in snow.

It seemed like the white folks took as long as they could to eat that evening. While Arcie was washing
dishes, the Missus came out with her money.

“Arcie,” the Missus said, “I’m so sorry, but would you mind if I just gave you five dollars tonight? The children have made me run short of change, buying presents and all.”

“I’d like to have seven,” Arcie said. “I needs it.”

“Well, I just haven’t got seven,” the Missus said. “I didn’t know you’d want all your money before the end of the week, anyhow. I just haven’t got it to spare.”

Arcie took five. Coming out of the hot kitchen, she wrapped up as well as she could and hurried by the house where she roomed to get little Joe. At least he could look at the Christmas trees in the windows downtown.

The landlady, a big light yellow woman, was in a bad humor. She said to Arcie, “I thought you was comin’ home early and get this child. I guess you know I want to go out, too, once in awhile.”

Arcie didn’t say anything for, if she had, she knew the landlady would probably throw it up to her that she wasn’t getting paid to look after a child both night and day.

“Come on, Joe,” Arcie said to her son, “Let’s us go in the street.”

“I hears they got a Santa Claus down town,” Joe said, wriggling into his worn little coat. “I wants to see him.”

“Don’t know ’bout that,” his mother said, “but
hurry up and get your rubbers on. Stores’ll all be closed directly.”

It was six or eight blocks downtown. They trudged along through the falling snow, both of them a little cold. But the snow was pretty!

The main street was hung with bright red and blue lights. In front of the City Hall there was a Christmas tree—but it didn’t have no presents on it, only lights. In the store windows there were lots of toys—for sale.

Joe kept on saying, “Mama, I want …”

But mama kept walking ahead. It was nearly ten, when the stores were due to close, and Arcie wanted to get Joe some cheap gloves and something to keep him warm, as well as a toy or two. She thought she might come across a rummage sale where they had children’s clothes. And in the ten-cent store, she could get some toys.

“O-oo! Lookee …,” little Joe kept saying, and pointing at things in the windows. How warm and pretty the lights were, and the shops, and the electric signs through the snow.

It took Arcie more than a dollar to get Joe’s mittens and things he needed. In the A. & P. Arcie bought a big box of hard candies for 49c. And then she guided Joe through the crowd on the street until they came to the dime store. Near the ten-cent store they passed a moving picture theatre. Joe said he wanted to go in and see the movies.

Arcie said, “Ump-un! No, child! This ain’t Baltimore where they have shows for colored, too. In these here small towns, they don’t let colored folks in. We can’t go in there.”

“Oh,” said little Joe.

In the ten-cent store, there was an awful crowd. Arcie told Joe to stand outside and wait for her. Keeping hold of him in the crowded store would be a job. Besides she didn’t want him to see what toys she was buying. They were to be a surprise from Santa Claus tomorrow.

Little Joe stood outside the ten-cent store in the light, and the snow, and people passing. Gee, Christmas was pretty. All tinsel and stars and cotton. And Santa Claus a-coming from somewhere, dropping things in stockings. And all the people in the streets were carrying things, and the kids looked happy.

But Joe soon got tired of just standing and thinking and waiting in front of the ten-cent store. There were so many things to look at in the other windows. He moved along up the block a little, and then a little more, walking and looking. In fact, he moved until he came to the white folks’ picture show.

In the lobby of the moving picture show, behind the plate glass doors, it was all warm and glowing and awful pretty. Joe stood looking in, and as he looked his eyes began to make out, in there blazing
beneath holly and colored streamers and the electric stars of the lobby, a marvellous Christmas tree. A group of children and grown-ups, white, of course, were standing around a big jovial man in red beside the tree. Or was it a man? Little Joe’s eyes opened wide. No, it was not a man at all. It was Santa Claus!

Little Joe pushed open one of the glass doors and ran into the lobby of the white moving picture show. Little Joe went right through the crowd and up to where he could get a good look at Santa Claus. And Santa Claus was giving away gifts, little presents for children, little boxes of animal crackers and stick-candy canes. And behind him on the tree was a big sign (which little Joe didn’t know how to read). It said, to those who understood, MERRY XMAS FROM SANTA CLAUS TO OUR YOUNG PATRONS.

Around the lobby, other signs said, WHEN YOU COME OUT OF THE SHOW STOP WITH YOUR CHILDREN AND SEE OUR SANTA CLAUS. And another announced, GEM THEATRE MAKES ITS CUSTOMERS HAPPY-SEE OUR SANTA.

And there was Santa Claus in a red suit and a white beard all sprinkled with tinsel snow. Around him were rattles and drums and rocking horses which he was not giving away. But the signs on them said (could little Joe have read) that they
would be presented from the stage on Christmas Day to the holders of the lucky numbers. Tonight, Santa Claus was only giving away candy, and stick-candy canes, and animal crackers to the kids.

Joe would have liked terribly to have a stick-candy cane. He came a little closer to Santa Claus, until he was right in the front of the crowd. And then Santa Claus saw Joe.

Why is it that lots of white people always grin when they see a Negro child? Santa Claus grinned. Everybody else grinned, too, looking at little black Joe—who had no business in the lobby of a white theatre. Then Santa Claus stooped down and slyly picked up one of his lucky number rattles, a great big loud tin-pan rattle such as they use in cabarets. And he shook it fiercely right at Joe. That was funny. The white people laughed, kids and all. But little Joe didn’t laugh. He was scared. To the shaking of the big rattle, he turned and fled out of the warm lobby of the theatre, out into the street where the snow was and the people. Frightened by laughter, he had begun to cry. He went looking for his mama. In his heart he never thought Santa Claus shook great rattles at children like that—and then laughed.