Seventeen | Page 8

bring them in
the wheelbarrow, because, he says, the wheel is broken, and he says he
can't possibly carry two tubs and a wash-boiler himself; and he can't
make two trips because it's a mile and a half, and I don't like to ask him,
anyway; and it would take too long, because he has to get back and
finish cutting the grass before your papa gets home this evening. Papa

said he HAD to! Now, I don't like to ask you, but it really isn't much.
You and Genesis can just slip up there and--''
``Slip!'' moaned William. `` `Just SLIP up there''! Ye gods!''
``Genesis is waiting on the back porch,'' she said. ``Really it isn't worth
your making all this fuss about.''
``Oh no!'' he returned, with plaintive satire. ``It's nothing! Nothing at
all!''
``Why, I shouldn't mind it,'' she said; briskly, ``if I had the time. In fact,
I'll have to, if you won't.''
``Ye gods!'' He clasped his head in his hands, crushed, for he knew that
the curse was upon him and he must go. ``Ye gods!''
And then, as he stamped to the door, his tragic eye fell upon Jane, and
he emitted a final cry of pain:
``Can't you EVER wash your face?'' he shouted;

IV
GENESIS AND CLEMATIS
Genesis and his dog were waiting just outside the kitchen door, and of
all the world these two creatures were probably the last in whose
company William Sylvanus Baxter desired to make a public appearance.
Genesis was an out-of-doors man and seldom made much of a toilet;
his overalls in particular betraying at important points a lack of the
anxiety he should have felt, since only Genesis himself, instead of a
supplementary fabric, was directly underneath them. And the aged,
grayish, sleeveless and neckless garment which sheltered him from
waist to collar-bone could not have been mistaken for a jersey, even
though what there was of it was dimly of a jerseyesque character. Upon
the feet of Genesis were things which careful study would have
revealed to be patent-leather dancing- pumps, long dead and several
times buried; and upon his head, pressing down his markedly criminal
ears, was a once-derby hat of a brown not far from Genesis's own color,
though decidedly without his gloss. A large ring of strange metals with
the stone missing, adorned a finger of his right hand, and from a corner
of his mouth projected an unlighted and spreading cigar stub which had
the appearance of belonging to its present owner merely by right of
salvage.
And Genesis's dog, scratching himself at his master's feet, was the true

complement of Genesis, for although he was a youngish dog, and had
not long been the property of Genesis, he was a dog that would have
been recognized anywhere in the world as a colored person's dog. He
was not a special breed of dog--though there was something rather
houndlike about him--he was just a dog. His expression was grateful
but anxious, and he was unusually bald upon the bosom, but otherwise
whitish and brownish, with a gaunt, haunting face and no power to look
anybody in the eye.
He rose apprehensively as the fuming William came out of the kitchen,
but he was prepared to follow his master faithfully, and when William
and Genesis reached the street the dog was discovered at their heels,
whereupon William came to a decisive halt.
``Send that dog back,'' he said, resolutely. ``I'm not going through the
streets with a dog like that, anyhow!''
Genesis chuckled. ``He ain' goin' back,'' he said. `` 'Ain' nobody kin
make 'at dog go back. I 'ain' had him mo'n two weeks, but I don' b'lieve
Pres'dent United States kin make 'at dog go back! I show you.'' And,
wheeling suddenly, he made ferocious gestures, shouting. ``G'on back,
dog!''
The dog turned, ran back a few paces, halted, and then began to follow
again, whereupon Genesis pretended to hurl stones at him; but the
animal only repeated his manoeuver--and he repeated it once more
when William aided Genesis by using actual missiles, which were
dodged with almost careless adeptness.
``I'll show him!'' said William, hotly. ``I'll show him he can't follow
ME!'' He charged upon the dog, shouting fiercely, and this seemed to
do the work, for the hunted animal, abandoning his partial flights,
turned a tucked-under tail, ran all the way back to the alley, and
disappeared from sight. ``There!'' said William. ``I guess that 'll show
him!''
``I ain' bettin' on it!'' said Genesis, as they went on. ``He nev' did stop
foll'in' me yet. I reckon he the foll'indest dog in the worl'! Name Clem.''
``Well, he can't follow ME!'' said the surging William, in whose mind's
eye lingered the vision of an exquisite doglet,