Life — October 1, 1908 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

360 -LIFE: (Continued from page 359.) of Bobbie's voice. He restrained his boy with his hand while a look of sudden surprise came over his face. “What! "? he exclaimed, “ what's he doing up there? Who is Archibald?" “Why, father, you know. He's the little colored boy who lives next door.” In truth, their visitor belonged to the black coachman who lived in the next house “What nerve!’ exclaimed Bington hotly. “Why, I pre- sume everybody in the whole place has seen him. Look here, young man "!—to Bobbie—" What do you mean by having that colored boy on our piazza? Don’t you sce how it looks? May be your mother won't be mad when she knows it. Why, it’s perfectly outrageous. You run up now, quick, and tell him to get out. Skidoo! Tell him your father doesn't want him around. Go on! Mr. Bington’s manner had entirely changed. From the indulgent, sympathetic parent of a few moments before, he was now the outraged al of convention, tradition and inborn prejudice. Bobbie, however, viewed the matter in an entirely different light. His mind was as yet untutored to the fine distinctions of civilization. He hung back. The tears started to his eyes. “1 don't—want—to,”” he whimpered. “But you must. Don't you realize what you've done in encouraging that boy? It’s simply awful. Why, the neigh- bors will all guy the life out of me. Come, do as I tell you.” In the meantime, Archibald, entirely innocent of the scene he was making, had started up and was beckoning to Bobbie “He's a friend of mine,”’ said Bobbie “Well, it won't do, do you understand? You've simply got to be taught better. Don’t you realize the mortification you are putting your father and mother to when you have a boy like that sitting up on my piazza in broad daylight? Why, everybody will think he is one of the family! Come." Bobbie's face expressed his emotions. “I don't want to, father,” he cried me.”" By this time slightly. “Well, well,”” he said, “you don’t know, of course. Only remember, never do it again. And consider also how dis- agreeable a thing you are compelling me to do, just because of your thoughtlessness. Archibald!” Archibald, in response to Mr. Bington’s command, came down from the piazza to the path where they were waiting He was in the same class with Bobbie. That is, his mind was a blank so far as any social distinction was concerned. He was now about to receive his first lesson in democracy “ Archibald,” said Mr. Bington, in a firm but not unkind tone, “what were you doing upon that piazza?" “T was waiting for Bobbie.’” Archibald’s manner was respectful—his voice was as cul- tured as two years’ training in public school could bestow. “Well, you mustn't come over here any more, you un- derstand? This, is not the proper place for you. Now run home and don’t let me see you on these grounds again."” The two boys exchanged a glance of mutual comradeship It was as much as if Bobbie had said, “It's all right, old man. Don’t mind him. He doesn’t understand.’ Then Archibald turned silently and sullenly, and swiftly disappeared across the lawn. Mrs. Bington had gone shopping, so the coast was clear, so far as the dog was concerned, and this animal now claimed again the attention of father and son. Bobbie, with the re- “ Please don’t make ngton was beginning to recover himself silience of youth, apparently dismissed Archibald immediately from his mind, and as for Mr. Bington, he was glad to take up another and less painful subject “Go out in the kitchen and get him a bone,’ he ordered. In a few moments Bobbie returned and in another jiffy their hearts were gladdened by the wonderful gastronomical activity of the dog, who appeared not to have tasted solid food for several days. Mr. Eington, sitting back in his chair with a cigar in his mouth, chuckled with joy. By a sort of sympathetic attrac- tion he was experiencing almost as much satisfaction as if he himself was indulging in a hearty meal. Imagine his: aston- ishment, therefore, when Bobbie, who apparently had been equally occupied, suddenly turned to him and said: “ Father, what's the matter with Archibald?" Bington involuntarily pulled himself together. These child- ish questions are often fearfully embarrassing. “Well, what is the matter with Archibald?’ he repeated, taking advantage of his own mental superiority to play on his innocent son a well-known controversial trick. “ What do you think?" “T like him,’ s: Bobbie, as that ought to settle it. “He never fights with me the way the other boys do. And he does things I ask him to do. He likes to play my games. Is * he said, turning his eyes on his father suddenly, “ because black? “Yes, my boy, that’s it.”’ There was a silence. Then Bobbie spoke again. “ Did God make him?"’ he asked, “the same as me? He goes to Sunday-school."* “OF course. Bington, realizing that it was time for him to maintain his authority, put his hand firmly on his boy's shoulder. “Now, my boy,"’ he said, “let me tel! you something. Archibald in his way is all right. I've no doubt that he great deal better than some of the white boys you play with. But he can’t come over here and play with you, and that’s all there is to it. You must trust your father to know about these matters, and wait until you grow older. By and by, when you are as old as I am, you will understand.’ At this moment there was a light step on the gravel walk below. Mrs. Bington had returned from her shopping. The dog, who had finished his meal, was the first to greet her. And no more genuine welcome was ever bestowed on a human being, although a large portion of it was lost “What's this? '’ exclaimed Mrs. Bington. “A dog! And such a dog. Poor old fellow!’ she said, her humanity mo- mentarily getting the better of her. “ How pathetic. Where did you get him? Where did he come from? "* “We found him lost on the street,”” said Bington. “Too bad, isn’t it? But he'll pick up wonderfully in a few days. He'll "— Mrs. Bington’s domesticated eye swept the piazza. “ How could you! "’ she interrupted. “ What a mess! Why, he has been gnawing bones all over. Oh, dear me, suppose some one should come and see this place. Don't you realize,"’ she went on, looking crossly at her husband, “ how difficult it is to get help without having all this additional care? You might at least have taken him out into the back yard. And this piazza was washed this morning. Bobbie, you must clean this all up at once. You know," she said to Bington, “I suppose, what it means to have given that animal one meal. You never will get rid of him.” “Oh, mama! "’ exclaimed Bobbie, “can't I keep him?" Keep him! I should say not. Doesn't your mother have (Continued on page 362.)