African American families -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Rural-urban migration -- United States -- Fiction
"Don't you dare? Do you want to frighten him off? Make him believe that
you 've got coin to burn and that it 's an honour to be with you."
"But, you know, he may expect a glimpse of the gold."
"A smart man don't need to show nothin'. All he 's got to do is to act."
"Oh, I 'll act; we 'll all act."
"Be slow to take a drink from him."
"Thomas, my boy, you 're an angel. I recognise that more and more every
day, but bid me do anything else but that. That I refuse: it 's against
nature;" and Sadness looked more mournful than ever.
"Trust old Sadness to do his part," said the portly proprietor; and
Thomas went back to the lamb.
"Nothin' doin' so early," he said; "let 's go an' have a drink."
They went, and Thomas ordered.
"No, no, this is on me," cried Joe, trembling with joy.
"Pshaw, your money 's counterfeit," said his companion with fine
generosity. "This is on me, I say. Jack, what 'll you have yourself?"
As they stood at the bar, the men began strolling up one by one. Each in
his turn was introduced to Joe. They were very polite. They treated him
with a pale, dignified, high-minded respect that menaced his pocket-book
and possessions. The proprietor, Mr. Turner, asked him why he had never
been in before. He really seemed much hurt about it, and on being told
that Joe had only been in the city for a couple of weeks expressed
emphatic surprise, even disbelief, and assured the rest that any one
would have taken Mr. Hamilton for an old New Yorker.
Sadness was introduced last. He bowed to Joe's "Happy to know you, Mr.
Williams."
"Better known as Sadness," he said, with an expression of deep gloom. "A
distant relative of mine once had a great grief. I have never recovered
from it."
Joe was not quite sure how to take this; but the others laughed and he
joined them, and then, to cover his own embarrassment, he did what he
thought the only correct and manly thing to do,--he ordered a drink.
"I don't know as I ought to," said Sadness.
"Oh, come on," his companions called out, "don't be stiff with a
stranger. Make him feel at home."
"Mr. Hamilton will believe me when I say that I have no intention of
being stiff, but duty is duty. I 've got to go down town to pay a bill,
and if I get too much aboard, it would n't be safe walking around with
money on me."
"Aw, shut up, Sadness," said Thomas. "My friend Mr. Hamilton 'll feel
hurt if you don't drink with him."
"I cert'n'y will," was Joe's opportune remark, and he was pleased to see
that it caused the reluctant one to yield.
They took a drink. There was quite a line of them. Joe asked the
bartender what he would have. The men warmed towards him. They took
several more drinks with him and he was happy. Sadness put his arm about
his shoulder and told him, with tears in his eyes, that he looked like a
cousin of his that had died.
"Aw, shut up, Sadness!" said some one else. "Be respectable."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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