Mimi did not see Mrs. Plummer as she descended the stairs when the music began for the next dance. That estimable person had come that afternoon to New York and she now was receiving her first glimpse of New York life. She wore a brilliant purple confection of velvet, adorned with extraordinary little flowers of an indescribable and unknown species and shape. She seized the arm of her cousin, with whom she was staying, and though in the noise there was no need of caution, she whispered:
“Who is that girl with the green dress and red hair—I mean what name does she go by here?”
“That’s Miss Daquin—she’s Mrs. Rogers’ niece and she’s very popular—some of the women don’t like her but that’s because she’s better-looking than most of them. Men like her because she pays no attention to them—”
Mrs. Plummer snorted.
“Miss Daquin! So that’s how she’s getting by, is it?”
She was in her element. New York did not terrify her any more by its hugeness and strangeness. The eyes of her friend picked out Mimi’s form as it appeared and disappeared through the dancing forms. Mrs. Plummer was giving a complete, more than complete, account of Mimi and her life.
“These society coloured folks make me tired,” Mrs. Plummer was saying. “They look down on us ordinary folks but they’re carrying on their deviltry just as much as any of us. And they do some of the craziest things! That girl was carrying on round Atlanta with this Hunter boy and when they found out she was going to have a baby she just went crazy—said she didn’t want to marry the boy! Can you imagine anybody doing such a fool thing?” she demanded rhetorically.
“I always did think there was something funny about her,” her vis-à-vis answered satisfactorily. “You can’t fool me—I can spot ’em a mile off. What became of the baby?”
“The Lord only knows! I heard tell she had it and I don’t know whether it lived or not. Must not of if you say you ain’t never heard about it. Some funny things happen in this world—” …
On and on the thread was unspun. In the years since Mimi had left Atlanta, the stories about her, with the facile growth that age always brings, had gained almost the proportions of a myth. Never had any girl taken so absurd a position as she. Always they had been only too glad to marry even when they had lived with their husbands but a short time. Not understanding, gossip had assumed there was more to the story than appeared on the surface, and various inventive minds speculated as to the untold part.
Rumour had scoffed at the notion Mimi had refused to marry Carl even though he and his parents were willing. That was too improbable, too farfetched. The Hunters had volunteered no information and tongues had run wild. Some had it that the father of the child was uncertain—every man under seventy years of age who had ever been on the most casual terms of friendship with Mimi was discussed as the possible father. Others were firmly convinced Mimi had trapped Carl with an eye on the wealth which his father was credited with possessing. Those of this persuasion were convinced she had been bought off or frightened by the Hunters.
Forgotten except by a few, Hilda and her mother among them, were the derelictions popular report had credited to or charged against Carl. Mimi had fled, therefore she was the guilty one. “The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth,” the wise ones said. The scandal was a juicy morsel that served its purpose well over many back fences and at innumerable parties, at church and on front porches. Only Hilda and Mrs. Adams championed the cause of Mimi, but soon, because their views were well known, the subject was not mentioned to them. Scandal thrives only when it is retailed to those with open ears and credulous minds. …
Mrs. Plummer’s friend was well capable of holding her own in the dissemination of interesting news. Mimi alone would have been a target almost too small for the guns of the talkative ones. But as the niece of Mrs. Rogers, in business, well known, and with enemies gained through the frank comment and eyes with which Mimi’s aunt saw readily through pretence and sham, Mrs. Rogers herself could be hurt through the mud plastered on her niece. Mimi found herself being avoided at church, on the street, at the few affairs which she attended. At first she paid no attention to them but in time they were too obvious to be ignored. She had not seen Mrs. Plummer during the two weeks that she had visited in New York. The first intimation Mimi had of the talk which was going on was given her in a weekly publication, The Blabber.
Modelled upon Town Topics, it devoted its pages to not too cryptic references, almost invariably scandalous ones, to persons of prominence. Its editors had been handled roughly several times, the paper had been sued frequently, but seldom were any copies left on Harlem newsstands more than a few hours after it appeared on Thursday mornings.
Mimi read the reference to herself three times before she could realize that once again she was confronted with suspicion.
“All Harlem is agog,” the paragraph ran, “with some hitherto hidden chapters in the life of one of our most attractive and popular young women. She and the relative with whom she lives have been seen often at the smartest affairs and the breath of scandal which has been stirred will undoubtedly prove a nine days’ sensation. Innocence, according to all who know the young lady of French extraction, has been her most evident characteristic. But it seems there has been a coloured gentleman in the firewood. Harlem is asking what
