"Can you tell me where the
restaurant is?" asked the interviewer, stopping them. "Do you mean the
colored restaurant?" one of the tots asked, not a whit of embarrassment
in her manner, no servility, no resentment--just an ordinary question.
"It's right over there."
The restaurant proved to be large, well lighted, scrupulously clean.
Tables were well spaced and quite a distance from the counter. Sunshine
streamed in from two directions. Fitzhugh was sitting just outside
talking to the boot-black.
"Yes, ma'am, I's Henry Fitzhugh. Can't work no more since I got hit by
an automoble. Before that I had a shoe-shine place myself. But I can't
work no more. Yes 'um I gets the pension. I gets $10 a month. It's not
much, but I sort of get by. I's got my room up at 209 and I gets my
meals down here at the restaurant. Yes ma'am, pensions seem to be coming
in pretty regular now.
Been in Hot Springs a long, long time. Come here in 1876. I remembers
lots of the old families here. What yo say your name was? Your Mother
was a Dengler? Sure, I remembers the Denglers. Mr. Dengler had a
soda-water shop. I remembers him.
When I first come, soon as I was able, I cleaned up for Captain Mallard.
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