Andy's Proposal
Andy had been waiting patiently for Cleo to leave Helen's door. He had
tried in vain during the entire morning to get an opportunity to see her
alone, but since Helen's appearance at breakfast she had scarcely left the
girl's side for five minutes.
He had slipped to the head of the back stairs, lifted the long flaps of the
tail of his new coat and carefully seated himself on the last step to wait
her appearance. He smiled with assurance. She couldn't get down without a
word at least.
"I'm gwine ter bring things to er head dis day, sho's yer born!" he
muttered, wagging his head.
He had been to Norfolk the week before on an excursion to attend the annual
convention of his African mutual insurance society, "The Children of the
King." While there he had met the old woman who had given him a startling
piece of information about Cleo which had set his brain in a whirl. He had
long been desperately in love with her, but she had treated him with such
scorn he had never summoned the courage to declare his affection.
The advent of Helen at first had made no impression on his slowly working
mind, but when he returned from Norfolk with the new clew to Cleo's life he
watched the girl with increasing suspicion. And when he saw the collapse
of Norton over the announcement of her presence he leaped to an important
conclusion. No matter whether his guess was correct or not, he knew enough
to give him a power over the proud housekeeper he proposed to exercise
without a moment's delay.
"We see now whether she turns up her nose at me ergin," he chuckled, as he
heard the door open.
He rose with a broad grin as he saw that at last she was alone. He adjusted
his suit with a touch of pride and pulled down his vest with a little jerk
he had seen his master use in dressing. He had found the heavy, black,
double-breasted vest in the cedar box, but thought it rather sombre when
contrasted with a red English hunting jacket the major had affected once in
a fashionable fox hunt before the war. The rich scarlet took his fancy and
he selected that one instead. He carried his ancient silk hat jauntily
balanced in one hand, in the other hand a magnolia in full bloom. The
petals of the flower were at least a half-foot long and the leaves longer.
He bowed with an attempt at the easy manners of a gentleman in a gallant
effort to attract her attention. She was about to pass him on the stairs
without noticing his existence when Andy cleared his throat:
"Ahem!"
Cleo paused with a frown:
"What's the matter? Have you caught cold!"
Andy generously ignored her tone, bowed and handed her the magnolia:
"Would you embellish yousef wid dis little posie, m'am?"
The woman turned on him, drew her figure to its full height, her eyes
blazing with wrath, snatched the flower from his hand and threw it in his
face.
Andy dodged in time to save his nose and his offering went tumbling down
the stairs. He shook his head threateningly when he caught his breath:
"Look a here, m'am, is dat de way yer gwine spessify my welcome?"
"Why, no, I was only thanking you for the compliment!" she answered with a
sneer. "How dare you insult me?"
"Insult you, is I?" Andy chuckled. "Huh, if dat's de way ye talk I'm gwine
ter say sumfin quick----"
"You can't be too quick!"
Andy held her eye a moment and pointed his index finger in her face:
"Yassam! As de ole sayin' is--I'm gwine take my tex' from dat potion er de
Scripter whar de 'Postle Paul pint his 'pistle at de Fenians!--I'se er
comin' straight ter de pint."
"Well, come to it, you flat-nosed baboon!" she cried in rage. "What makes
your nose so flat, anyhow?"
Andy grinned at her tantalizingly, and spoke with a note of deliberate
insult:
"I don't know, m'am, but I spec hit wuz made dat way ter keep hit outen
odder folks' business!"
"You impudent scoundrel, how dare you speak to me like this?" Cleo hissed.
A triumphant chuckle was his answer. He flicked a piece of imaginary dust
from the rim of his hat, his eyes rolled to the ceiling and he slowly said
with a smile:
"Well, yer see, m'am, circumstances alters cases an' dat always makes de
altercations! I git holt er a little secret o' yourn dat gimme courage----"
"A secret of mine?" Cleo interrupted with the first flash of surprise.
"Yassam!" was the unctuous answer, as Andy looked over his shoulder and
bent to survey the hall below for any one who might possibly be passing.
"Yassam," he went on smoothly, "down ter Norfork las' week, m'am----"
"Wait a minute!" Cleo interrupted. "Some one might be below. Come to my
room."
"Yassam, ob course, I wuz gwine ter say dat in de fust place, but ye didn't
gimme time"--he bowed--"cose, m'am, de pleasure's all mine, as de sayin'
is."
He placed his silk hat jauntily on his head as they reached the door, and
gallantly took hold of Cleo's arm to assist her down the steps.
She stopped abruptly:
"Wait here, I'll go ahead and you can come in a few minutes."
"Sholy, sholy, m'am, I understan' dat er lady allus likes ter make er
little preparations ter meet er gemman. I understands. I des stroll out on
de lawn er minute."
"The backyard's better," she replied, quietly throwing him a look of scorn.
"Yassam, all right. I des take a little cursory view er de chickens."
"As soon as I'm out of sight, you can come right up."
Andy nodded and Cleo quickly crossed the fifty yards that separated the
house from the neat square brick building that was still used as the
servants' quarters.
In a few minutes, with his silk hat set on the side of his head, Andy
tipped up the stairs and knocked on her door.
He entered with a grandiloquent bow and surveyed the place curiously. Her
room was a sacred spot he had never been allowed to enter before.
"Have a seat," Cleo said, placing a chair.
Andy bowed, placed his hat pompously on the table, pulled down his red vest
with a jerk and seated himself deliberately.
Cleo glanced at him:
"You were about to tell me something that you heard in Norfolk?"
Andy looked at the door as an extra precaution and smiled blandly:
"Yassam, I happen ter hear down dar dat a long time ergo, mo'rn twenty
years, afore I cum ter live here--dat is when I wuz er politicioner--dey
wuz rumors 'bout you an' de major when you wuz Mister Tom's putty young
nurse."
"Well?"
"De major's wife fin' it out an' die. De major wuz heart-broke, drap
everything an' go Norf, an' while he wuz up dar, you claims ter be de
mudder of a putty little gal. Now min' ye, I ain't nebber seed her, but
dat's what I hears you claims----"
Andy paused impressively and Cleo held his eye in a steady, searching
stare. She was trying to guess how much he really knew. She began to
suspect that his story was more than half a bluff and made up her mind to
fight.
"Claim? No, you fool!" she said with indifferent contempt, "I didn't claim
it--I proved it. I proved it to his satisfaction. You may worry some one
else with your secret. It doesn't interest me. But I'd advise you to have
your life insured before you mention it to the major"--she paused, broke
into a light laugh and added: "So that's your wonderful discovery?"
Andy looked at her with a puzzled expression and scratched his head:
"Yassam."
"Then I'll excuse you from wasting any more of your valuable time," Cleo
said, rising.
Andy rose and smiled:
"Yassam, but dat ain't all, m'am!"
"No?"
"Nobum. I ain't 'sputin dat de little gal wuz born des lak you say, or des
lak, mebbe, de major believes ter dis day"--he paused and leaned over until
he could whisper in her ear--"but sposen she die?"
The woman never moved a muscle for an instant. She spoke at last in a
half-laughing, incredulous way:
"Suppose she died? Why, what do you mean?"
"Now, mind ye," Andy said, lifting his hands in a persuasive gesture, "I
ain't sayin' dat she raly did die--I des say--sposen she die----"
Cleo lost her temper and turned on her tormentor in sudden fury:
"But she didn't! Who dares to tell such a lie? She's living to-day a
beautiful, accomplished girl."
Andy solemnly raised his hand again:
"Mind ye, I don't say dat she ain't, I des say sposen--sposen she die, an'
you git a little orphan baby ter put in her place, twenty years ergo, jis'
ter keep yer grip on de major----"
Cleo peered steadily into his face:
[Illustration: "'Yassam, but dat ain't all, m'am.'"]
"Did you guess that lie?"
He cocked his head to one side and grinned:
"I don't say dat I did, an' I don't say dat I didn't. I des say dat I
mought, an' den ergin I moughn't!"
"Well, it's a lie!" she cried fiercely--"I tell you it's an infamous lie!"
"Yassam, dat may be so, but hit's a putty dangous lie fer you, m'am,
ef----"
He looked around the room in a friendly, cautious way and continued in a
whisper:
"Especially ef de major wuz ter ever git pizened wid it!"
Cleo's voice dropped suddenly to pleading tones:
"You're not going to suggest such an idea to him?"
Andy looked away coyly and glanced back at her with a smile:
"Not ef yer ax me----"
"Well, I do ask you," she said in tender tones. "A more infamous lie
couldn't be told. But if such a suspicion were once roused it would be hard
to protect myself against it."
"Oh, I des wants ter help ye, m'am," Andy protested earnestly.
"Then I'm sure you'll never suggest such a thing to the major?--I'm sorry
I've treated you so rudely, and spoke to you as I did just now."
Andy waved the apology aside with a generous gesture and spoke with large
good nature:
"Oh, dat's all right, m'am! Dat's all right! I'm gwine ter show you now dat
I'se yer best friend----"
"I may need one soon," she answered slowly. "Things can't go on in this
house much longer as they are."
"Yassam!" Andy said reassuringly as he laid his hand on Cleo's arm and
bent low. "You kin 'pend on me. I'se always called Hones' Andy."
She shuddered unconsciously at his touch, looked suddenly toward the house
and said:
"Go--quick! Mr. Tom has come. I don't want him to see us together."
Andy bowed grandly, took up his hat and tipped down the stairs chuckling
over his conquest, and Cleo watched him cross the yard to the kitchen.
"I'll manage him!" she murmured with a smile of contempt.