"Some folks' pride runs in queer streaks," said Betty, as she turned a
beefsteak on the gridiron; "if I lived in such a grand house as this,
and had so many fine clothes, I wouldn't let my poor cousin stand every
Monday in my kitchen, bending over the wash-tub, and rubbing out her
clothes and her children's, with my servants, till the blood started
from her knuckles."
"Do you know what dis chil' would do, if she were Missis Ruth Hall?"
asked Gatty. "Well, she'd jess go right up on dat shed fronting de
street, wid 'em, and hang 'em right out straight before all de grand
neighbors, and shame Missus Millet; dat's what _dis_ chil' would do."
"Poor Mrs. Ruth, she knows too much for that," replied Betty; "she
shoulders that great big basket of damp clothes and climbs up one, two,
three, four flights of stairs to hang them to dry in the garret. Did you
see her sit down on the stairs last Monday, looking so pale about the
mouth, and holding on to her side, as if she never would move again?"
"Yes, yes," said Gatty, "and here now, jess look at de fust peaches of
de season, sent in for dessert; de Lor' he only knows what dey cost, but
niggers musn't see noffing, not dey, if dey wants to keep dere place.
But white folks _is_ stony-hearted, Betty."
"Turn that steak over," said Betty; "now get the pepper; work and talk
too, that's _my_ motto. Yes, Gatty, I remember when Mrs. Ruth's husband
used to ride up to the door of a fine morning, and toss me a large
bouquet for Mrs. Millet, which Mrs. Ruth had tied up for her, or hand me
a box of big strawberries, or a basket of plums, or pears, and how all
our folks here would go out there and stay as long as they liked, and
use the horses, and pick the fruit, and the like of that."
"Whar's her brudder, Massa Hyacinth? Wonder if _he_ knows how tings is
gwyin on?" asked Gatty.
"_He_ knows fast enough, only he _don't_ know," replied Betty, with a
sly wink. "I was setting the table the other day, when Mrs. Millet read
a letter from him to her husband. It seems he's got a fine place in the
country, where he lives with his new bride. Poor thing, I hope he won't
break her heart, as he did his first wife's. Well, he told how beautiful
his place was, and how much money he had laid out on his garden, and
hot-house, and things, and invited Mrs. Millet to come and see him;
and then he said, 'he 'sposed Mrs. Ruth was getting on; he didn't know
anything about her.'"
"Know about de debbel!" exclaimed Gatty, throwing down the pepper
castor; "wonder whose fault dat is, Betty? 'Spose all dese folks of
ours, up stairs, will go to de bressed place? When I heard Massa Millet
have prayers dis morning, I jess wanted to ask him dat. You 'member what
our minister, Mr. Snowball, said las' Sunday, 'bout de parabola of Dives
and Lazarus, hey?"
"Parable," said Betty contemptuously; "Gatty, you are as ignorant as a
hippopotamus. Come, see that steak now, done to a crisp; won't you catch
it when you take it into breakfast. It is lucky I can cook and talk
too."