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Updated: June 1, 2025
And he filled me up, the dog; he did it, to stop my goin' home. I'm drunk!" And he would continue: "Tell me who it was, Melina, or somethin'll happen to you." After having waited again, he went on with the slow and obstinate logic of a drunkard: "He's been keeping me at that loafer Paumelle's place every night, so as to stop my going home. It's some trick. Oh, you damned carrion!"
To her surprise Melina came to her with an air of great mystery and, first making sure that no one was within sight or hearing, held out to her a five dollar bill. "I want to git that five dollars off my mind and start it movin'," she said grimly when Charlotte looked at her in wonder. "No, there ain't no use of your refusing.
"Hullo," said Charlotte with a suddeness that made Melina jump. "What time is it, and how is every one?" "Goodness, I thought you was asleep. They're all right. I've just made your ma go to bed, though she declares she never felt better in her life. Stanley's sitting up on the sofa with the pillows ail around him, feeling like a little king, and Molly's proud as Punch to be nurse.
He duly canvassed every likely dive, every "melina," every gambling house and yegg hang out. He engaged in leisurely games of pool with stone-getters and gopher men. He visited bucket-shops and barrooms, and dingy little Ghetto cafés. He "buzzed" tipsters and floaters and mouthpieces. He fraternized with till tappers and single-drillers.
When she awoke it was quite dark in the room except for the light from the open fire. She could hear in the sitting-room a subdued murmur of voices, and now and then Irving's giggle, promptly suppressed by the stern Molly. As she lay there in drowsy comfort Melina stole into the room and coming softly to the bed peered sharply at her.
"Come in and help me get out the lunch Melina left for us," begged Charlotte, "and then we can rest till the boys come over this afternoon." The boys left in a cloud of snowballs, but Joe found a chance to say softly to Charlotte as he passed her, "Feeling better, Charlotte? You look it." "Run along and don't be foolish," answered Charlotte disdainfully. "Goodness!
But when he found out that nothing else was moving, a little reason returned to him, the reason of a drunkard. Gently he sat up. Again he waited a long time, and at last, growing bolder, he called: "Melina!" His wife did not answer. Then, suddenly, a suspicion crossed his darkened mind, an indistinct, vague suspicion.
Charlotte felt so cheered and comforted that she thought of poor Melina, whose sorrows she had not yet investigated, and turned toward the kitchen. Melina was one of those rare maids-of-all-work whose services cannot be estimated, nor can they be paid for in mere money.
"You be a brave Buckra," says she, in her gibbering English. "You come wid Melina, and Melina take you to pretty lady, who want you to eat supper wid her." Thereupon, and allowing our hero no opportunity to decline this extraordinary invitation, even had he been of a mind to do so, she took him by the hand, and led him toward the large and imposing house which commanded the garden.
"It's mine to do just what I please with," she cried exultantly, "and I never wanted to do anything more than I want to do this." Melina stared at the five dollar bill in her hand. Then she held it out to Charlotte again. "I can't take your money," she said. "I ain't saying that I wouldn't like to have it, but I can't take it." Charlotte looked at her pleadingly.
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