"It was a strange coincidence," said he, "how they came to secure the Y.M.C.A. in that town. I keep myself pretty well informed regarding uplift among our people, and it was truly a delight when I read, that, at almost the last minute, money that was lacking, but necessary to fulfil the requirements, was brought to hand.

"It was too bad Grantville failed in the effort to secure theirs. And they wanted it so badly," the doctor continued. "I attended school in that city, and always have a warm spot in my heart for the place."

"Well, dear," said his wife, "how did they come to fail in the effort in Grantville, and succeeded in this other town? I understood you to say that Grantville had a much more intelligent set of colored people, and more progressive."

"So it has! So it has!" he said quickly; "but by some strange coincidence, the money necessary to complete the arrangement, was brought forward at almost the last minute. Otherwise, they had acknowledged failure."

"I wonder where the money came from?" she mused.

"I suppose I must be going about my work," said Mildred, rising. "I am going to canva.s.s the Perier building today. I have been told there are many offices occupied by persons who might buy."

"Most a.s.suredly," said the doctor. "There are many I am sure." He was thoughtful a moment, and then continued: "Our people in this town are not possessed with that race spirit which it is claimed Negroes have in other cities. They are accused of lacking unity; but, in spite of that, when one applies himself to the task with patience and fort.i.tude, enough of the spirit can be aroused to make work like yours remunerative. But, nevertheless, I am often distressed when I realize, that we haven't a first cla.s.s local race paper here; for, without one, it is impossible to reach the people--the colored people--through advertising, unless a high rate is paid in the columns of the white paper, and that is not practical."

"Are you much acquainted in the building?" Mildred inquired.

"Oh, yes, I know everybody--that is, almost everybody. The last time I was over there, I observed that an office had been taken by one who is a stranger to me; and I observed, also, that he appeared to be studious, so it might be worth while to see him too."

She thanked him, kissed his wife, and a few minutes later, her steps died away in the distance.

"Dear," said Mrs. Jacques, "don't you know that she reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago. But who it was, where it was, I do not know; but I always feel queer when she kisses me."

"You're becoming fanciful," he smiled, lighting a cigar.

They talked about other subjects, and Mildred was, for the time, forgotten.

"A story of the northwest, by a Negro pioneer, eh?" said a man, upon whose office door was written: _Real Estate, Loans and Renting_. "M-m.

Looks like a good book. Negroes don't write many books, although there are a great many that come the rounds about Negroes, but gotten up by whites with a sketch about Tom, d.i.c.k and Harry, and exaggerated estimates of the Negro. So, in view of the fact, I guess you may put me down for a copy, and deliver it next week."

"Thank you, sir," she said, as she wrote his name, and the date of delivery.

"Having much success?" he inquired.

"A great deal, I am glad to say," she replied pleasantly.

"Glad to hear that. There are always readers to be found, if one looks for them; but, on the whole, the people of this town have not much of a literary turn of mind."

"Indeed!"

"No, it is such a care-free, happy-go-lucky place, that not all the people who should, try to concentrate themselves in reading." He was quiet and thoughtful for a moment, and then said: "Have you tried many of the school teachers?"

"A great many," she said.

"And how did you find them?"

"Well, just fair. I sold to a few of them."

"A few of them, eh! It would seem they should welcome the fact that Negroes are beginning to write books."

"Obviously, yes."

"And the preachers?"

"They buy; but some of them dislike to, so much so, that I have dispensed with going to them."

"And the physicians?"

"They are very nice." She didn't say how nice, and he didn't ask, so it ended there.

She went from one office to another, and almost all purchased. Some out of real interest, while others subscribed merely through courtesy to her, and from the fact that it was rare to meet colored people selling, or trying to sell anything.

She had completed the third floor, and was ascending to the fourth, when the then overcast skies became darker and rain began falling fitfully.

She made all the offices on that floor with her usual success, and started upon the fifth. Twilight was gathering, and, with the darkness from the clouds, lights were soon aglow.

She had made the fifth and was just pa.s.sing to the elevator, when she chanced to spy an office that she had overlooked, and, in that moment, she recalled the doctor's statement about the stranger. The office was at the end of the hall--a hall that was not much used, evidently.

Mildred observed, as she approached, that the door was slightly ajar.

She knocked lightly, and then, receiving no invitation, pushed the door open and entered.

A man sat at the other side of the room, and he seemed to be sick, or asleep--at least he lay with face downward across the desk, at which he sat. She approached him, disregarding his apparent lethargy, and when she had offered a greeting, and he had raised himself slightly, she told him the story of the book.

He was sick, she soon saw, and she felt sympathetic. She bathed his head--his forehead--with a damp towel; then she inquired if he felt better, and looked for the first time into his face.

"At last, oh Lord, at last!" she cried, in a subdued voice, as she bounded down the steps. "I have found him, I have found him!" She walked hurriedly on her way to the street, and did not wait or think of the elevator that would have saved her strength. When she was on the street, she hurried through the rain--for it was pouring now--and did not stop until the ferry had been reached.

Once aboard this, she hid herself in the darkest place she could find, and there, as the paddle of the propeller came to her ears, she cried: "Sidney, my Sidney, I have found you. And never, never, until the end of the world will I be far from you--Oh, my love!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

_"Well, I'm Going!" And She Went_

"Typhoid-pneumonia," said the physician, rising from over the patient, who had just been brought to the hospital.

Sidney Wyeth, unconscious, was carried at once to the section of the great hospital reserved for patients with contagious diseases.

"What do you think of it, doctor? Is it a serious case, or just a light attack?" inquired one of the a.s.sistants, who was making a specialty of a study of fever.

"Serious," was the reply, "very serious. He will be lucky if he is able to pull through."

"I just missed you, Miss Latham," said Dr. Jacques, coming in a few minutes after Mildred had entered the house.

"Indeed, I am sorry! We could have come over together," she exclaimed, smothering her excitement for the time, and smiling regretfully, when he had told her that he was in the Perier building just before she left.