The Forged Note. Micheaux Oscar

finished. "When do you deliver?"

      "Any time," he replied; "but I have several in this neighborhood for the first. Could you take yours then?" As he finished, he looked at her strangely. His thoughts went back to a place and a person he had almost forgotten. (?)

      She looked back at him, smiled, became uneasy, apparently she did not know how to take him. Then she asked softly: "Why do you look at me like that?" And then he came out of it, and replied candidly:

      "I don't know," he started to say, "because you remind me of one I once knew—and loved." The very thought of it, however, now pained him. However, he dismissed these thoughts from his mind, and was normal again.

      She appeared as though she would like to say more on the subject, but instead she added: "Have you been selling the book long?"

      "Ever since publication," he admitted frankly.

      The past lingered with him for some time, but it was temporarily forgotten, when he had returned to the office, and noted Slim's success.

      "You're there, Professor," he beamed, while the other assumed an air of modesty.

      A few days later—and he was apparently successful in the meantime—Slim said to Wyeth: "I want you to go with me tomorrow. I've found a 'nest.'"

      "A hornet nest?" asked Wyeth humorously. Slim looked uncomfortable. He had a good memory.

      "I'm serious. Out there around the colleges, man, are some of the finest people you ever met, and rich! They own homes that will open your eyes."

      "M-m. Are these orders from them, or have they told you they would 'think' it over and you could drop in when you were in the neighborhood again?" Slim's face fell for a moment, then he said, while Wyeth thought he detected something.

      "These orders are from good people in and around that neighborhood." He paused for a spell, and resumed, with a frown: "I have been thinking very seriously, that you could do much better among the people in their homes, and wouldn't need to go snoopin' around to the rear. I must confess, Mr. Wyeth, that I have never been overly anxious to confine the most of my work to domestics, as you seem to choose."

      Again Sidney smiled, while Slim paused, disconcertedly.

      "Now this list I have here, should convince you that you have simply been over-looking the best people, for the kitchens. So, if you will go along with me tomorrow, I will convince you to your own satisfaction."

      Wyeth kept out of going with Slim in different ways, and 'ere long, the day of Slim's first big delivery came.

      Only about forty copies of the book were on hand in the office, but more were at the freight house, with the bill-of-lading at the bank, and a sight draft attached for the cost of the books. Sidney did not have the amount available to pay it on that day. He reckoned, however, that the number on hand should have been sufficient, but Slim didn't think so. He was, moreover, insistent to a point that moved Sidney to make effort to get the others out.

      "I think we have books sufficient for today's delivery, Slim," he argued. "And then Monday, we will get those at the freight office."

      "It isn't business, it isn't business. I have taken these people's orders for this book to be delivered today. There are fifty. I have promised faithfully to bring the book this day, and when I was in business, I did a thing when I promised. So I wish you would get the books you have at the freight office down here at once, so that I can fill every order and have no disappointments."

      Wyeth looked distressed, but smiled all to himself. If he had learned anything about selling books to colored people, and had forty copies to fill fifty orders, he could figure on having a goodly supply left. But Slim must have fifty copies, or a book for each order.

      The books he had at the freight office would cost a pretty sum to get, and he did not have the amount convenient. He went to the bank and borrowed it. Slim went with him to the freight office to be sure there would be no failure; he must have fifty books.

      When they arrived, Sidney was chagrined to find he had one dollar less than it took to get them. It was only fifteen minutes before the office would close, its being Saturday. Sidney was up against it. Slim was in a stew. He deluged the other with, "Why didn't you get them yesterday?" or, "You should have known this office closes at twelve o'clock today." And in the end he gave up entirely. Wyeth employed his mind vigorously, hoping to raise a dollar in fifteen minutes.

      "There's no use," deplored Slim hopelessly. "I will lose $7 or $8 through your business carelessness." Just then, Sidney observed a drayman coming toward the freight house. A thought struck him, and he hailed the drayman. In a few words, he explained the circumstances, while the other nodded acquiescence, pulled out a dollar, and a half hour later, the books were unloaded at the office.

      Slim breathed a sigh of intense relief. He was a business man, and told Wyeth so.

      Wyeth admitted it. "Glad to be affiliated with a gentleman of your ability, and you know it, Professor."

      "You will always find me right up to the point in business, Mr. Wyeth. That's always been my reputation, and if you don't believe me, you can go over in South Carolina, and find out from the people there yourself," he said, very serious of demeanor.

      "That's all right, Professor. I'll take your word for it."

      At one o'clock P.M. Slim was ready. He had a cab hired for the occasion, and with fifty nice, clean copies, wrapped deftly at the publishing house before shipment, he sallied forth.

      Wyeth was nodding in the office, when, about ten o'clock that night, he heard some one coming up the stair. From the way he halted at intervals, and set something down, he judged he must be carrying a load.

      He was.

      Presently the person reached the landing, and, halting again, dropped something heavy, then breathed long and deeply. A moment later, he heard him pick up whatever it was, and come on toward his door. It was burst open in a moment, and some one stumbled in behind a big package.

      It was Slim. He dropped the package as soon as he was inside, with an air of disgust, and fell, apparently exhausted, into a chair. He was silent, while he got his breath. When this had become regular, he got up and moved to the desk, where he figured for some time. Wyeth remained silent, but quietly expectant. It came presently.

      "Liars! Dirty liars! Stinking, low down, dirty lying niggas. Damn all of them, damn them!"

      Wyeth was still silent. Slim looked about himself wearily, and then did some more figuring. Presently Wyeth heard him again.

      "Lying nigga's, o'nry nigga's, dog-gone the bunch!"

      Wyeth was impatient. He wanted to ask very innocently what the matter was. Suddenly he saw Slim looking at him savagely. Wyeth made an effort to look innocent, and not burst out laughing. After awhile he heard Slim again.

      "I'm done! I'm through selling books to Negroes now!" He then arose, and strode back and forth across the room in a terrible temper.

      Wyeth started to say: "You mean you are through getting orders." But he waited.

      "The first old nigga I come up to, looked up when he saw me, and then just laffed, 'ke-ha!' Then, when I held the book toward him, he said: 'Yu' betta' gwan 'way frum heh wi' dat book!' And then just laffed again, like it was something so funny. I got mad right then, but kept my temper and said:

      "'What's the matter with you! Didn't you order this book from me two weeks ago?'" He paused at this stage, and looked at Wyeth again with a savage glare. "But that old devil just kept on laffing like a vaudeville show was before him, instead of me with the book he had ordered, and which he told me to be sure, sure to bring today. My nigga was rising now; but just then I heard a little half-naked kid: 'Uh! Misteh! 'oo might's well ferget it. 'Cause th' ole man there,' pointing to the old sinner, 'orders sumpin' from eve' agent what comes 'long; puvidin' i' do'n cos' nuthin' t' give th' odah.' And all the time that old coon was just laffing, 'ke-ha!'" He gave Wyeth another glare, and went on:

      "The next one I come onto looked at the