Virginia smiled sweetly at the now beaming black face of the negro woman.

"I'll be very careful," she promised.

Serena devoted herself again to her minion. "You Ike, go slow. Go mighty cafful. Dat's wot ah say."

He looked askance at her. Every vestige of humor had departed from the black face replaced by a cold, implacable glare. Without a word, he started the machine and it glided down the drive.

Her purchases completed, Virginia sat musing upon the message from her mother as the big car hummed softly towards the quiet beauty of the river road. Vague plans, indefinite as dreams, floated through her mind.

Ike was obeying Serena's wishes so faithfully that the absence of excitement, so essential to the display of what he considered his best talents, was almost lulling him to sleep.

A large bill board fenced the front of a vacant lot, on their way. A magnificent example of the lithographer's art, as adapted to the advertising needs of a minstrel show, was posted upon it. It's coloring, chiefly red, was effective and forceful and displayed an extravagant disregard of the high cost of ink. It portrayed the triumphant pa.s.sage of the Jubilee Minstrels. The brilliant uniforms, the martial air of the musicians as well as the exceeding pleasure with which this aggregation appeared to be welcomed by the reviewing public, was of a character to please, to impress, yes, even to stun all beholders, except the blind.

This picture caught the soul of Ike as he came within the scope of its influence. To him, applause and admiration were as strong drink. Envy knocked at his heart as he beheld the bright raiment. He visualized himself, thus dazzlingly attired, exhibited to his admiring fellow townsmen. Violating speed laws was infantile piffle to this. A syncopated melody, appropriate to a victorious march, blared in memory's ear.

He hummed it softly. His body twitched to the rhythm and his feet took up the cadence. He pressed a pedal and the powerful car accelerated its motion well above the modest limits commanded by Serena. To the sh.e.l.l of Ike, the increased speed was but a return to normal. His spirit was away. Expanding as a morning-glory to the sun, it paraded, in wondrous garments, to martial music, before gaping thousands.

A turn in their way was before them. Ike partially roused himself from his sweet dreams and automatically attended to the necessities of the moment. These included no slackening of speed.

The car swung a corner and instantly thereafter there came a mighty groaning of brakes as it was finally stopped in the midst of what had been an orderly procession of small negro children. The startling arrival of the big machine had scattered them, with shrill cries and screams, in every direction.

Virginia was alarmed at the sudden halt and at the frightened outcries of the youngsters. She leaped out. On the curb an excited colored woman was holding a weeping black boy by the hand. He was very small and, because of a deformed leg, used a crutch. Between efforts to rea.s.semble her scattered charges, she endeavored to calm and comfort him.

Hurrying to the woman, Virginia cried, "I'm so sorry."

"Much good sorry gwine do after you kill somebody," shouted the woman, much angered by the occurrence. "Ain' you got no bettah sense 'en to run down a lot o' chillun?"

"It would have been terrible if we had hurt one of them. I never would have forgiven myself. We couldn't see them until we turned the corner."

In her excitement she sought friendly support. "Could we, Ike?"

To Ike, it was a duty from which much pleasure could be derived to take part in any controversy. Likewise, one acquires merit, when one is a chauffeur, by strongly maintaining the contention of one's mistress--she may reciprocate in a difficult hour. Ike turned an unfriendly countenance upon the woman, and asked for information, "How ah gwine see 'roun' er corner? Does you 'spect dat ma eyes is twisted?"

"Go long, man. Mine you' own business."

Not thus summarily was Ike to be dismissed. "Dese yere chillun ain' no call to be in de street. Howc.u.m 'em der? Ain' it yo'all's business to keep 'em outen de way?" A uniformity in costume struck him. "Ain'

dey orphant chillun runnin' loose?"

"Orphans! The poor things!" Virginia cried.

"Wot ef dey is orphants?" the woman protested with great belligerence.

"Den," Ike behaved as if he, a public spirited citizen, had discovered the warden of a penitentiary seeking pleasure beyond the walls with notorious criminals, "howc.u.m dey heah? Wharfo?"

The suspicion and force in the chauffeur's manner brought fresh tears to orphan eyes.

Encouraged by these evidences of public attention, Ike continued his investigation. "Ah axes you woman, why ain' dey in de 'sylum whar dey 'long?"

The chauffeur's words had not soothed the guardian of the children. She showed unmistakable signs of increasing wrath. Glaring fixedly at him, she blazed, "Mine you' own business, you black po'cupine."

Although the application of the epithet was obscure, its effect was all that could be desired. Ike suffered a species of fit. His mouth opened and closed without sound. His wildly rolling eyes exposed wide areas of white and then glued themselves in invenomed hatred upon the woman. Muscles contracted and worked in his neck. Even as a panther, he appeared about to spring upon his foe.

Virginia interfered. Her experience of life was limited, but she understood the negro. "Don't get out of the car, Ike," she ordered.

"Ef dat spindle legged dude git outen dat caah, ah is boun' to bus'

his haid wid ma fist," predicted the woman.

Virginia feared no blood shed but deemed it desirable to take steps to avoid an argument certain to be loud and long and to add nothing to her dignity as a bystander. She answered Ike's inquiries herself. "The children were out walking, I suppose, and had to cross the street?"

This overture slightly mollified the woman but she yet viewed the porcupine with distinct hostility.

"Are all of these poor children orphans?" continued Virginia, shaking her head at the pity of it.

"Yas'm, dey's all orphants f'om the Lincoln Home, up de street."

"And you had them out for their daily walk?"

"No, mam, dey gits out onest er week. Ah ain' got no time to take 'em out every day."

Virginia looked at the woman very thoughtfully. "Your work makes you very happy, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Ah ain' heard o' no kind er wo'k mekin' n.o.body happy. Ah jes allers was, an' allers is happy. Dat's me," the woman explained.

"Why, you are a mother to all of those children."

"Yas'm, de onlies' mother dey gwine git, ah guesses." The woman viewed her rea.s.sembled charges speculatively. She patted the little cripple at her side. "Po' li'l Willie, he cain't walk ve'y fas', kin you, sweetheart?"

"You poor little fellow," sighed Virginia.

"Ah bettah tote you, Willie. We gotta move right smart afo' noon an'

you ain' ve'y spry on dat crutch." Picking up the lame boy, the woman began to issue instructions for the advance of her forces.

Virginia surveyed the manoeuvering orphans comprehensively. "If I could get them all into the car I would take them for a ride," she exclaimed, and then, "They can be crowded in, I believe. May they go?"

The woman regarded the girl in great astonishment. "Cou'se dey kin go eff yo'all wants 'em." Her conscience appeared to demand a further warning. "Dey is er powe'ful mouthy and mischievous lot o'

rascallions."

Ike was disgusted. To be required to act as chauffeur for a crowd of screaming infants of his own race was another wound to that dignity so recently and fearfully lacerated. He submitted protest. "Dis yere caah ain' gwine hol' all dem chillun. It ain' no dray. Dey gwine bus' de springs smack bang offen it."

"If the car breaks down you can have them fix it at the garage, Ike.

They always have been able to mend it," Virginia told him with great complacency as she proceeded with her plans.

"Ef all de chillun stan' close, 'ceptin fo' or five wid li'l Willie an' me on de back seat, dey is plenty room," the orphan's guardian indicated, greatly pleased at the prospect of the ride.

The sullen fire of eternal hatred burned in the eye which Ike turned upon her. He fired his last shot. "Miss Virginy, you' Daddy ain' want all des yere chillun in dis caah. He mighty biggoty about whoall ride in it. Ah 'spects dey is gwine dirty it up sumpin fierce."

"Who yo'all call dirty?" demanded the woman; but Virginia made peace by an emphatic "Hush," as the colored orphans were packed into the back of the machine. With their attendant they filled the entire s.p.a.ce.

The car moved away as soon as Virginia had taken her seat by the irritated Ike. They left the town and sped along country roads. The little negroes, awed by their new surroundings, became noisy with familiarity and expressed their joy by screaming.

The young hostess of this strange party was at first uncomfortable and embarra.s.sed at the clamor of her small guests, but as she awakened to the enjoyment she was giving the orphans she forgot herself in their pleasure.