African American families -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Rural-urban migration -- United States -- Fiction
Joe wanted to kick his sister for having tried so delicate an art and
failed, for he had not yet lost all of his awe of Hattie.
"Now, what I was going to say," the lady resumed after several
contemplative puffs, "is that you 'll have to begin in the chorus any
way and work your way up. It would n't take long for you, with your
looks and voice, to put one of the 'up and ups' out o' the business.
Only hope it won't be me. I 've had people I 've helped try to do it
often enough."
She gave a laugh that had just a touch of bitterness in it, for she
began to recognise that although she had been on the stage only a short
time, she was no longer the all-conquering Hattie Sterling, in the first
freshness of her youth.
"Oh, I would n't want to push anybody out," Kit expostulated.
"Oh, never mind, you 'll soon get bravely over that feeling, and even if
you did n't it would n't matter much. The thing has to happen. Somebody
's got to go down. We don't last long in this life: it soon wears us
out, and when we 're worn out and sung out, danced out and played out,
the manager has no further use for us; so he reduces us to the ranks or
kicks us out entirely."
Joe here thought it time for him to put in a word. "Get out, Hat," he
said contemptuously; "you 're good for a dozen years yet."
She did n't deign to notice him, save so far as a sniff goes.
"Don't you let what I say scare you, though, Kitty. You 've got a good
chance, and maybe you 'll have more sense than I 've got, and at least
save money--while you 're in it. But let 's get off that. It makes me
sick. All you 've got to do is to come to the opera-house to-morrow and
I 'll introduce you to the manager. He 's a fool, but I think we can
make him do something for you."
"Oh, thank you, I 'll be around to-morrow, sure."
"Better come about ten o'clock. There 's a rehearsal to-morrow, and you
'll find him there. Of course, he 'll be pretty rough, he always is at
rehearsals, but he 'll take to you if he thinks there 's anything in you
and he can get it out."
Kitty felt herself dismissed and rose to go. Joe did not rise.
"I 'll see you later, Kit," he said; "I ain't goin' just yet. Say," he
added, when his sister was gone, "you 're a hot one. What do you want to
give her all that con for? She 'll never get in."
"Joe," said Hattie, "don't you get awful tired of being a jackass?
Sometimes I want to kiss you, and sometimes I feel as if I had to kick
you. I 'll compromise with you now by letting you bring me some more
beer. This got all stale while your sister was here. I saw she did n't
like it, and so I would n't drink any more for fear she 'd try to keep
up with me."
"Kit is a good deal of a jay yet," Joe remarked wisely.
"Oh, yes, this world is full of jays. Lots of 'em have seen enough to
make 'em wise, but they 're still jays, and don't know it. That 's the
worst of it. They go around thinking they 're it, when they ain't even
in the game. Go on and get the beer."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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