Seventeen | Page 7

real thing at last!'' He meant
that, after many imitations had imposed upon him, Love--the real
thing--had come to him in the end. And as he turned away he
murmured, ``And even her name --unknown!''
This evidently was a thought that continued to occupy him, for he
walked up and down the room, frowning; but suddenly his brow
cleared and his eye lit with purpose. Seating himself at a small
writing-table by the window, he proceeded to express his
personality--though with considerable labor--in something which he
did not doubt to be a poem.
Three-quarters of an hour having sufficed for its completion, including
``rewriting and polish,'' he solemnly signed it, and then read it several

times in a state of hushed astonishment. He had never dreamed that he
could do anything like this.
MILADY I do not know her name Though it would be the same Where
roses bloom at twilight And the lark takes his flight It would be the
same anywhere Where music sounds in air I was never introduced to
the lady So I could not call her Lass or Sadie So I will call her Milady
By the sands of the sea She always will be Just M'lady to me.
--WILLIAM SYLVANUS BAXTER, Esq., July 14
It is impossible to say how many times he might have read the poem
over, always with increasing amazement at his new-found powers, had
he not been interrupted by the odious voice of Jane.
``Will--ee!''
To William, in his high and lonely mood, this piercing summons
brought an actual shudder, and the very thought of Jane (with tokens of
apple sauce and sugar still upon her cheek, probably) seemed a kind of
sacrilege. He fiercely swore his favorite oath, acquired from the hero of
a work of fiction he admired, ``Ye gods!'' and concealed his poem in
the drawer of the writing-table, for Jane's footsteps were approaching
his door.
``Will--ee! Mamma wants you.'' She tried the handle of the door.
``G'way!'' he said.
``Will--ee!'' Jane hammered upon the door with her fist. ``Will--ee!''
``What you want?'' he shouted.
Jane explained, certain pauses indicating that her attention was partially
diverted to another slice of bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar.
``Will--ee, mamma wants you--wants you to go help Genesis bring
some wash-tubs home and a tin clo'es-boiler--from the second- hand
man's store.''
``WHAT!''
Jane repeated the outrageous message, adding, ``She wants you to
hurry--and I got some more bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar
for comin' to tell you.''
William left no doubt in Jane's mind about his attitude in reference to
the whole matter. His refusal was direct and infuriated, but, in the midst
of a multitude of plain statements which he was making, there was a
decisive tapping upon the door at a point higher than Jane could reach,
and his mother's voice interrupted:

``Hush, Willie! Open the door, please.''
He obeyed furiously, and Mrs. Baxter walked in with a deprecating air,
while Jane followed, so profoundly interested that, until almost the
close of the interview, she held her bread-and-butter and apple sauce
and sugar at a sort of way- station on its journey to her mouth.
``That's a nice thing to ask me to do!'' stormed the unfortunate William.
``Ye gods! Do you think Joe Bullitt's mother would dare to--''
``Wait, dearie!'' Mrs. Baxter begged, pacifically. ``I just want to
explain--''
`` `Explain'! Ye gods!''
``Now, now, just a minute, Willie!'' she said. ``What I wanted to
explain was why it's necessary for you to go with Genesis for the--''
``Never!'' he shouted. ``Never! You expect me to walk through the
public streets with that awful-lookin' old nigger--''
``Genesis isn't old,'' she managed to interpolate. ``He--''
But her frantic son disregarded her. ``Second- hand wash-tubs!'' he
vociferated. ``And tin clothes-boilers! THAT'S what you want your
SON to carry through the public streets in broad daylight! Ye gods!''
``Well, there isn't anybody else,'' she said. ``Please don't rave so, Willie,
and say `Ye gods' so much; it really isn't nice. I'm sure nobody 'll notice
you--''
`` `Nobody'!'' His voice cracked in anguish. ``Oh no! Nobody except
the whole town! WHY, when there's anything disgusting has to be done
in this family--why do I always have to be the one? Why can't Genesis
bring the second-hand wash-tubs without ME? Why can't the second-
hand store deliver 'em? Why can't--''
``That's what I want to tell you,'' she interposed, hurriedly, and as the
youth lifted his arms on high in a gesture of ultimate despair, and then
threw himself miserably into a chair, she obtained the floor. ``The
second-hand store doesn't deliver things,'' she said. ``I bought them at
an auction, and it's going out of business, and they have to be taken
away before half past four this afternoon. Genesis can't