
XVI

PETE DID NOT CONSIDER that he had ruined Maggie.
If he had thought that her soul could never smile again, he would
have believed the mother and brother, who were pyrotechnic over the
affair, to be responsible for it.
Besides, in his world, souls did not insist upon
being able to smile. “What deh hell?”
He felt a trifle entangled. It distressed him.
Revelations and scenes might bring upon him the wrath of the owner
of the saloon, who insisted upon respectability of an advanced
type.
“What deh hell do dey wanna raise such a smoke
about it fer?” demanded he of himself, disgusted with the attitude
of the family. He saw no necessity for anyone’s losing their
equilibrium merely because their sister or their daughter had
stayed away from home.
Searching about in his mind for possible reasons
for their conduct, he came upon the conclusion that Maggie’s
motives were correct, but that the two others wished to snare him.
He felt pursued.
The woman of brilliance and audacity whom he had
met in the hilarious hall showed a disposition to ridicule
him.
“A little pale thing with no spirit,” she said.
“Did you note the expression of her eyes? There was something in
them about pumpkin pie and virtue. That is a peculiar way the left
corner of her mouth has of twitching, isn’t it? Dear, dear, my
cloud-compelling Pete, what are you coming to?”
Pete asserted at once that he never was very much
interested in the girl. The woman interrupted him, laughing.
“Oh, it’s not of the slightest consequence to me,
my dear young man. You needn’t draw maps for my benefit. Why should
I be concerned about it?”
But Pete continued with his explanations. If he was
laughed at for his tastes in women, he felt obliged to say that
they were only temporary or indifferent ones.
The morning after Maggie had departed from home,
Pete stood behind the bar. He was immaculate in white jacket and
apron and his hair was plastered over his brow with infinite
correctness. No customers were in the place. Pete was twisting his
napkined fist slowly in a beer glass, softly whistling to himself
and occasionally holding the object of his attention between his
eyes and a few weak beams of sunlight that had found their way over
the thick screens and into the shaded room.
With lingering thoughts of the woman of brilliance
and audacity, the bartender raised his head and stared through the
varying cracks between the swaying bamboo doors. Suddenly the
whistling pucker faded from his lips. He saw Maggie walking slowly
past. He gave a great start, fearing for the previously-mentioned
eminent respectability of the place.
He threw a swift, nervous glance about him, all at
once feeling guilty. No one was in the room.
He went hastily over to the side door. Opening it
and looking out, he perceived Maggie standing, as if undecided, on
the corner. She was searching the place with her eyes.
As she turned her face toward him Pete beckoned to
her hurriedly, intent upon returning with speed to a position
behind the bar and to the atmosphere of respectability upon which
the proprietor insisted.
Maggie came to him, the anxious look disappearing
from her face and a smile wreathing her lips.
“Oh, Pete—,” she began brightly.
The bartender made a violent gesture of
impatience.
“Oh, my Gawd,” cried he, vehemently. “What deh hell
do yeh wanna hang aroun’ here fer? Do yeh wanna git me inteh
trouble?” he demanded with an air of injury.
Astonishment swept over the girl’s features. “Why,
Pete! yehs tol’ me—”
Pete glanced profound irritation. His countenance
reddened with the anger of a man whose respectability is being
threatened.
“Say, yehs makes me tired. See? What deh hell deh
yeh wanna tag aroun’ atter me fer? Yeh’ll git me inteh trouble wid
deh ol’ man an’ dey’ll be hell teh pay! If he sees a woman roun’
here he’ll go crazy an’ I’ll lose me job! See? Ain’ yehs got no
sense? Don’ be allus bodderin’ me. See? Yer brudder come in here
an’ raised hell an’ deh ol’ man hada put up fer it! An’ now I’m
done! See? I’m done.”
The girl’s eyes stared into his face. “Pete, don’
yeh remem—”
“Oh, hell,” interrupted Pete, anticipating.
The girl seemed to have a struggle with herself She
was apparently bewildered and could not find speech. Finally she
asked in a low voice: “But where kin I go?”
The question exasperated Pete beyond the powers of
endurance. It was a direct attempt to give him some responsibility
in a matter that did not concern him. In his indignation he
volunteered information.
“Oh, go teh hell,” cried he. He slammed the door
furiously and returned, with an air of relief, to his
respectability.
Maggie went away.14
She wandered aimlessly for several blocks. She
stopped once and asked aloud a question of herself: “Who?”
A man who was passing near her shoulder, humorously
took the questioning word as intended for him.
“Eh? What? Who? Nobody! I didn’t say anything,” he
laughingly said, and continued his way.
Soon the girl discovered that if she walked with
such apparent aimlessness, some men looked at her with calculating
eyes. She quickened her step, frightened. As a protection, she
adopted a demeanor of intentness as if going somewhere.
After a time she left rattling avenues and passed
between rows of houses with sternness and stolidity stamped upon
their features. She hung her head for she felt their eyes grimly
upon her.
Suddenly she came upon a stout gentleman in a silk
hat and a chaste black coat, whose decorous row of buttons reached
from his chin to his knees. The girl had heard of the Grace of God
and she decided to approach this man.
His beaming, chubby face was a picture of
benevolence and kind-heartedness. His eyes shone good-will.
But as the girl timidly accosted him, he gave a
convulsive movement and saved his respectability by a vigorous
sidestep. He did not risk it to save a soul. For how was he to know
that there was a soul before him that needed saving?