The Sport of the Gods | Page 2

too early in life bid fair to be a dandy. But his father
encouraged him, for, said he, "It 's de p'opah thing fu' a man what waits
on quality to have quality mannahs an' to waih quality clothes."
"'T ain't no use to be a-humo'in' dat boy too much, Be'y," Fannie had
replied, although she did fully as much "humo'in'" as her husband; "hit
sho' do mek' him biggety, an' a biggety po' niggah is a 'bomination

befo' de face of de Lawd; but I know 't ain't no use a-talkin' to you, fu'
you plum boun' up in dat Joe."
Her own eyes would follow the boy lovingly and proudly even as she
chided. She could not say very much, either, for Berry always had the
reply that she was spoiling Kit out of all reason. The girl did have the
prettiest clothes of any of her race in the town, and when she was to
sing for the benefit of the A. M. E. church or for the benefit of her
father's society, the Tribe of Benjamin, there was nothing too good for
her to wear. In this too they were aided and abetted by Mrs. Oakley,
who also took a lively interest in the girl.
So the two doting parents had their chats and their jokes at each other's
expense and went bravely on, doing their duties and spoiling their
children much as white fathers and mothers are wont to do.
What the less fortunate negroes of the community said of them and
their offspring is really not worth while. Envy has a sharp tongue, and
when has not the aristocrat been the target for the plebeian's sneers?
Joe and Kit were respectively eighteen and sixteen at the time when the
preparations for Maurice Oakley's farewell dinner to his brother Francis
were agitating the whole Hamilton household. All of them had a hand
in the work: Joe had shaved the two men; Kit had helped Mrs. Oakley's
maid; the mother had fretted herself weak over the shortcomings of a
cook that had been in the family nearly as long as herself, while Berry
was stern and dignified in anticipation of the glorious figure he was to
make in serving.
When all was ready, peace again settled upon the Hamiltons. Mrs.
Hamilton, in the whitest of white aprons, prepared to be on hand to
annoy the cook still more; Kit was ready to station herself where she
could view the finery; Joe had condescended to promise to be home in
time to eat some of the good things, and Berry--Berry was gorgeous in
his evening suit with the white waistcoat, as he directed the nimble
waiters hither and thither.

II
A FAREWELL DINNER
Maurice Oakley was not a man of sudden or violent enthusiasms.
Conservatism was the quality that had been the foundation of his
fortunes at a time when the disruption of the country had involved most
of the men of his region in ruin.
Without giving any one ground to charge him with being lukewarm or
renegade to his cause, he had yet so adroitly managed his affairs that
when peace came he was able quickly to recover much of the ground
lost during the war. With a rare genius for adapting himself to new
conditions, he accepted the changed order of things with a passive
resignation, but with a stern determination to make the most out of any
good that might be in it.
It was a favourite remark of his that there must be some good in every
system, and it was the duty of the citizen to find out that good and
make it pay. He had done this. His house, his reputation, his
satisfaction, were all evidences that he had succeeded.
A childless man, he bestowed upon his younger brother, Francis, the
enthusiasm he would have given to a son. His wife shared with her
husband this feeling for her brother-in-law, and with him played the
role of parent, which had otherwise been denied her.
It was true that Francis Oakley was only a half-brother to Maurice, the
son of a second and not too fortunate marriage, but there was no
halving of the love which the elder man had given to him from
childhood up.
At the first intimation that Francis had artistic ability, his brother had
placed him under the best masters in America, and later, when the
promise of his youth had begun to blossom, he sent him to Paris,
although the expenditure just at that time demanded a sacrifice which
might have been the ruin of Maurice's own career. Francis's promise
had never come to entire fulfilment. He was always trembling on the

verge of a great success without quite plunging into it. Despite the joy
which his presence gave