The visit of Aunt Minervy Ann, which enabled her to take the place
of the absent cook, has already been told of, and I have tried to
reproduce the somewhat singular narrative which was the outcome of her
conversation on the veranda. It so happened that the cook was late the
next morning and Aunt Minervy Ann insisted on getting breakfast, in
spite of the fact that it compelled her to miss her train and rendered
her return ticket of no value.
It was getting on to ten o'clock when the cook arrived, bringing with
her a thousand plausible excuses, and a tangled tale of adventure.
She was very much surprised to see the kitchen occupied, but saluted
Aunt Minervy Ann modestly. The response to the salute was quite
characteristic.
"Ain't you a Newnan nigger?" Aunt Minervy Ann asked, with some asperity.
"Yessum, I is," replied the cook, somewhat surprised.
"Den 'tain't no need ter ax what you got in yo' pocket," was the dry
remark.
"Which pocket?" inquired the cook, slapping herself somewhat nervously.
On one of her fingers was a large brass ring, and when she slapped
her pocket, this ring struck against something which gave forth an
unmistakable sound. It was a bottle.
"Huh!" exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann; "yo' han' kin tell de trufe quicker'n
yo' tongue."
"Well, I declare to gracious!" sighed the cook. "How did you know I was
frum Newnan?"
"Why, you got de look on you. De white er yo' eyes is blood red, you
got yo' ha'r wrop de wrong way, an' dar's dat ar tickler in yo' pocket."
"Well, I declare!" cried the cook; "you outdoes me!" There was a note
of admiration in her voice calculated to propitiate her critic.
"Come on in here, den, an' git ter work," said Aunt Minervy Ann. "Dey
ain't nothin' ter do but ter cook de dinner. An' don't put so much wood
in dat range. You kin cook dat dinner wid five mo' little sticks ef you
put um in at de right time."
With that, Aunt Minervy Ann transferred her attention to the house
proper, and proceeded to give the beds a good shaking up. She went about
the matter so deftly and with such earnestness that she quite won the
admiration of the lady of the house, who had been used to an entirely
different kind of service. In half an hour every bed had been put to
rights, and, as Aunt Minervy Ann hit the piano the last lick with her
feather duster, the whistle of the letter-carrier was heard at the gate.
The delivery consisted of three letters and a postal-card.
This postal-card caused the lady of the house to catch her breath. It
was a notice from one of the city banks to the effect that a note of
acceptance for $300 would fall due at such a date.
"Oh, I hope you haven't been borrowing money!" she cried.
"No; there is some mistake," I replied. The card was addressed to a Mr.
Haines, and the carrier, hastily glancing at the name, had left it at
the wrong place.
"I 'speck dey got mo' banks up here dan what we got down yan' whar I
come fum," said Aunt Minervy Ann, laughing. She laughed so heartily that
we looked at her in some astonishment. "I know you all'll b'lieve I done
los' what little sense I had, but when you say bank, it allers puts
me in min' er de time when me an' Marse Tumlin frailed out de Gossett
boys."
"Frailed out the Gossett boys?" I exclaimed.
"Yasser, frailed is de word."
"But what has that to do with a bank?" I inquired.
"Hit got all ter do wid it, suh," she replied. We were in the
sitting-room, and Aunt Minervy Ann sank down on a footstool and rested
one arm on the lounge. "Right atter freedom dey wa'n't nothin' like
no bank down dar whar we live at; you know dat yo'se'f, suh. Folks say
dat banks kin run widout money, but 'fo' you start um, dey got ter have
money, er sump'n dat look like money. An' atter freedom dey wa'n't no
money down yan' 'cep' dat kin' what nobody ain't hankerin' atter.
"But bimeby it 'gun ter dribble in fum some'rs; fus' dem ar little
shinplasters, an' den de bigger money come 'long. It kep' on dribblin'
in an' dribblin' in twel atter while you could git a dollar here an' dar
by workin' yo' han's off, er sprainin' yo' gizzard ter git it. Bimeby
de news got norated 'roun' dat ol' Joshaway Gossett gwine ter start a
bank. Yasser! ol' Joshaway Gossett. Dat make folks open der eyes an'
shake der head. I 'member de time, suh, when ol' Joshaway wuz runnin' a
blacksmith shop out in de country. Den he sot in ter make waggins. Atter
dat, he come ter be overseer fer Marse Bolivar Blasengame, but all de
time he wuz overseein' he wuz runnin' de blacksmith shop an' de waggin
fact'ry.
"When de war come on, suh, dey say dat ol' Joshaway tuck all de money
what he had been savin' an' change it inter gol'; de natchul stuff. An'
he had a pile un it. He kep' dat up all endurin' er de turmoil, and
by de time freedom come out, he had mo' er de natchul stuff dan what
Cyarter had oats. Dat what folks say, suh, an' when eve'ybody talk one
way you may know dey ain't fur fum de trufe. Anyhow, de word went 'roun'
dat ol' Joshaway gwine ter start a bank. Folks wa'n't 'stonished 'kaze
he had money, but bekaze he gwine ter start a bank, an' he not much mo'
dan knowin' B fum bull-foot. Some snicker, some laugh, an' some make
fun er ol' Joshaway, but Marse Tumlin say dat ef he know how ter shave
a note, he bleeze ter know how ter run a bank. I ain't never see nobody
shave a note, suh, but dat 'zackly what Marse Tumlin say.
"But ol' Joshaway, he ain't a-keerin' what folks say. He start de bank,
an' he kep' it up twel de time I'm gwine tell you 'bout. He bought 'im
a big strong safe, an' he had it walled up in de back er de bank, an'
dar 'twuz. Don't make no diffunce what folks say 'bout ol' Joshaway, dey
can't say he ain't honest. He gwine ter have what's his'n, an' he want
yuther folks fer ter have what's der'n. When dat de case, 'tain't no
trouble ter git folks ter trus' you. Dey put der money in ol' Joshaway's
bank, whar he kin take keer un it, bekaze dey know'd he wa'n't gwine
ter run off wid it.
"Well, suh, de bank wuz runnin' 'long des like 'twuz on skids, an' de
skids greased. Ol' Joshaway ain't move ter town, but he hired 'im a
clerk, an' de clerk stayed in de bank night an' day, an' I hear folks
say de town wuz better'n bigger on 'count er ol' Joshaway's bank. I
dunner how dey make dat out, 'kaze de bank wa'n't much bigger dan yo'
kitchen back dar. Anyhow, dar she wuz an' dar she stayed fer a time an'
a time.
"But one day Marse Tumlin Perdue tuck de notion dat he got ter borry
some money. He seed yuther folks gwine in dar an' borryin' fum ol'
Joshaway, an' he know he got des ez much bizness fer ter borry ez what
dey is. Mo' dan dat, when he had plenty er money an' niggers, he done
ol' Joshaway many a good turn. I know'd dat myse'f, suh, an' 'tain't no
hearsay; I done seed it wid my own eyes. On de day I'm talkin' 'bout,
Miss Vallie sent me up town fer ter ax Marse Tumlin kin he spar' two
dollars—dat wuz befo' Miss Vallie wuz married; 'bout a mont' befo', an'
she wuz makin' up her weddin' fixin's.
"Twa'n't no trouble ter fin' Marse Tumlin. He wuz settin' in de shade
wid a passel er men. He seed me, he did, an' he come ter meet me. When
I tell 'im what Miss Vallie want, he kinder scratch his head an' look
sollum. He studied a minit, an' den he tell me ter come go 'long wid
'im. He cut 'cross de squar' an' went right ter ol' Joshaway's bank, me
a-follerin' right at his heels. He went in, he did, an' 'low, 'Hello,
Joshaway!' Ol' Joshaway, he say, 'Howdy, Maje?' He wuz settin' in dar
behime a counter what had wire palin's on top un it, an' he look fer all
de worl' like some ongodly creeter what dey put in a cage fer ter keep
'im fum doin' devilment.
"Marse Tumlin 'low, 'Joshaway, I want ter borry a hunderd dollars for
a mont' er so.' Ol' Joshaway kinder changed his cud er terbacker fum
one side ter de yuther, an' cle'r up his th'oat. He say, 'Maje, right
dis minit, I ain't got fifty dollars in de bank.' Nigger ez I is, I
know'd dat wuz a lie, an' I couldn't he'p fum gruntin' ef I wuz gwine
to be kilt fer it. At dat ol' Joshaway look up. Marse Tumlin stood dar
drummin' on de counter. Bimeby ol' Joshaway say, 'Spoze'n I had it,
Maje, who you gwine git fer yo' skyority?' des so. Marse Tumlin 'low,
'Fer my what?' 'Fer yo' skyority,' sez ol' Joshaway. I up an' say, 'Des
lissen at dat!' Marse Tumlin 'low, 'Who went yo' skyority when I use
ter loan you money?' 'Times is done change, Maje,' sez ol' Joshaway.
Marse Tumlin flirted de little gate open, an' went 'roun' in dar so
quick it made my head swim. He say, '_I_ ain't change!' an' wid dat, he
took ol' Joshaway by de coat-collar an' cuff'd 'im 'roun' considerbul.
He ain't hurt ol' Joshaway much, but he call 'im some names dat white
folks don't fling at one an'er widout dey's gwine ter be blood-lettin'
in de neighborhoods.
"Den Marse Tumlin come out fum behime de counter, an' stood in de do'
an' look up town. By dat time I wuz done out on de sidewalk, 'kaze I
don't want no pistol-hole in my hide. When it come ter fa'r fis' an'
skull, er a knock-down an' drag-out scuffle, I'm wid you; I'm right
dar; but deze yer guns an' pistols what flash an' bang an' put out yo'
lights—an' maybe yo' liver—when it come ter dem, I lots druther be on
t'er side de fence. Well, suh, I fully 'spected ol' Joshaway to walk
out atter Marse Tumlin wid de double-bairl gun what I seed behime de
counter; an' Marse Tumlin 'spected it, too, 'kaze he walk up an' down
befo' de bank an' eve'y once in awhile he'd jerk his wescut down in
front like he tryin' ter t'ar de bindin' off. Bimeby I see Marse Bolivar
Blasengame git up fum whar he settin' at, an' here he come, swingin'
his gol'-head cane, an' sa'nt'in' 'long like he gwine on a promenade.
"I know'd by dat, suh, dat Marse Bolivar been watchin' Marse Tumlin's
motions, an' he seed dat trouble er some kind wuz on han'. He walk up,
he did, an' atter he cut his eye at Marse Tumlin, he turn ter me an'
laugh ter hisse'f—he had de purtiest front teef you mos' ever is see,
suh—an' he 'low, 'Well, dang my buttons, ef here ain't ol' Minervy Ann,
de war-hoss fum Wauhoo! Wharsomever dey's trouble, dar's de ol' war-hoss
fum Wauhoo.' Wid dat, he lock arms wid Marse Tumlin, an' dey march off
down de street, me a-follerin'. You ain't kin fin' two men like dem
unywhar an' eve'ywhar. Dey wa'n't no blood-kin—dey married sisters—but
dey wuz lots closer dan br'ers. Hit one an' you'd hurt de yuther, an'
den ef you wa'n't ready ter git in a scuffle wid two wil'-cats, you
better leave town twel dey cool off.
"Well, suh, dey ain't took many steps 'fo' dey wuz laughin' an' jokin'
des like two boys. Ez we went up de street Marse Tumlin drapt in a sto'
er two an' tol' um dat ol' Joshaway Gossett vow'd dat he ain't got fifty
cash dollars in de bank. Dish yer money news is de kin' what spreads,
an' don't you fergit it. It spread dat day des like powder ketchin' fire
an' 'twa'n't no time 'fo' you could see folks runnin' 'cross de squar'
des like dey er rabbit-huntin', an' by dinner-time dey wa'n't no bank
dar no mo' dan a rabbit. Folks say dat ol' Joshaway try mighty hard ter
'splain matters, but dem what had der money in dar say dey'd take de
spondulix fus' an' listen ter de 'splainin' atterwards. 'Long to'rds de
noon-hour ol' Joshaway hatter fling up his han's. All de ready money
done gone, an' folks at de do' hollin' fer dat what dey put in dar. I
dunner how he ever got 'way fum dar, 'kaze dey wuz men in dat crowd ripe
ter kill 'im; but he sneaked out an' went home, an' lef' someun else
fer ter win' up de shebang.
"De bank wuz des ez good ez any bank, an' folks got back all dey put
in dar des ez soon ez dey'd let ol' Joshaway show his head in town; but
he drapt dat kinder bizness an' went back ter farmin' an' note-shavin'.
An' all bekaze he want skyority fer Marse Tumlin, which his word des ez
good ez his bon'. He mought not er had de money when de clock struck de
minit, but what diffunce do dat make when you know a man's des ez good
ez gol'? Huh! no wonder dey broke ol' Joshaway down!"
Aunt Minervy Ann's indignation was a fine thing to behold. Her scorn
of the man who wanted Major Perdue to put up security for his note was
as keen and as bitter as it had been the day the episode occurred. She
paused at this point as if her narrative had come to an end. Therefore,
I put in a suggestion.
"Was this what you call frailing out the Gossett boys?"
"No, suh," she protested with a laugh; "all deze yer gwines-on 'bout dat
ar bank wuz des de 'casion un it. You bleeze ter know dem Gossett boys,
suh. Dey had sorter cool down by de time you come down dar, but dey wuz
still ripe fer any devilment dat come 'long. Dar wuz Reub an' Sam an'
John Henry, an' a'er one un um wuz big ez a hoss. Dey use ter come ter
town eve'y Chuseday an' Sat'day, an' by dinner-time dey'd be a-whoopin'
an' hollin' in de streets, an' a-struttin' 'roun' mashin' folks' hats
down on der eyes. Not all de folks, but some un um. An' all fer fun;
dat what dey say.
"Tooby sho', dey had a spite ag'in Marse Tumlin and Marse Bolivar atter
de bank busted. Dey show'd it by gwine des so fur; dey'd fling out der
hints; but dey kep' on de safe side, 'kaze Marse Tumlin wa'n't de man
fer ter go 'roun' huntin' a fuss, ner needer wuz Marse Bolivar; but
fetch a fuss an' lay it in der laps, ez you may say, an' dey'd play
wid it an' dandle it, an' keep it fum ketchin' col'. Dey sho' would,
suh. When dem Gossett boys'd come ter town, Marse Tumlin an' Marse
Bolivar would des set' 'roun' watchin' um, des waitin' twel dey cross
de dead-line. But it seem like dey know des how fur ter go, an' right
whar ter stop.
"Well, suh, it went on dis away fer I dunner how long, but bimeby,
one day, our ol' cow got out, an' 'stidder hangin' 'roun' an' eatin'
de grass in de streets like any yuther cow would 'a' done, she made a
straight shoot fer de plantation whar she come fum. Miss Vallie tol'
Marse Tumlin 'bout it, an' he say he gwine atter her. Den some er de
niggers in de nex' lot tol' me dat de cow wuz out an' gone, an' I put
out atter her, too, not knowin' dat Marse Tumlin wuz gwine. He went de
front street an' I went de back way. Ef de town wuz big ez de streets
is long, we'd have a mighty city down dar; you know dat yo'se'f, suh.
De place whar de back street jines in wid de big road is mighty nigh
a mile fum de tempunce hall, an' when I got dar, dar wuz Marse Tumlin
polin' 'long. I holler an' ax 'im whar he gwine. He say he gwine atter
a glass er milk. Den he ax me whar I gwine. I say I'm gwine atter dat
ol' frame dat nigh-sighted folks call a cow. He 'low dat he'd be mighty
thankful ef de nex' time I tuck a notion fer ter turn de cow out I'd
tell 'im befo'han' so he kin run 'roun' an' head 'er off an' drive 'er
back. He wuz constant a-runnin' on dat away. He'd crack his joke, suh,
ef he dyin'.
"We went trudgin' 'long twel we come 'pon de big hill dat leads down
ter de town branch. You know de place, suh. De hill mighty steep, an'
on bofe sides er de road der's a hedge er Cherrykee roses; some folks
calls um Chickasaw; but Chicky er Cherry, dar dey wuz, growin' so thick
a rabbit can't hardly squeeze th'oo um. On one side dey wuz growin'
right on de aidge uv a big gully, an' at one place de groun' wuz kinder
caved in, an' de briar vines wuz swayin' over it.
"Well, suh, des ez we got on de hilltop, I hear a buggy rattlin' an'
den I hear laughin' an' cussin'. I lookt 'roun', I did, an' dar wuz de
Gossett boys, two in de buggy an' one ridin' hossback; an' all un um
full er dram. I could tell dat by de way dey wuz gwine on. You could
hear um a mile, cussin' one an'er fer eve'ything dey kin think un an'
den laughin' 'bout it. Sump'n tol' me dey wuz gwine ter be a rumpus,
bekaze three ter one wuz too good a chance for de Gossett boys ter
let go by. I dunner what make me do it, but when we got down de hill a
little piece, I stoop down, I did, an' got me a good size rock.
"Terreckly here dey come. Dey kinder quiet down when dey see me an'
Marse Tumlin. Dey driv up, dey did, an' driv on by, an' dis make me
b'lieve dat dey wuz gwine on 'bout der bizness an' let we-all go on
'bout our'n, but dat idee wa'n't in der head. Dey driv by, dey did, an'
den dey pulled up. We walkt on, an' Marse Tumlin lookt at um mighty
hard. Reub, he was drivin,' an ez we come up even wid um, he 'low,
'Major Perdue, I hear tell dat you slap my pa's face not so mighty
long ago.' Marse Tumlin say, 'I did, an' my han' ain't clean yit.' He
helt it out so dey kin see fer deyse'f. 'I b'lieve,' sez Reub, 'I'll
take a closer look at it.' Wid dat he lipt out er de buggy, an' by de
time he hit de groun,' Marse Tumlin had knockt 'im a-windin' wid his
curly-hick'ry walkin'-cane. By dat time, John Henry had jumpt out'n de
buggy, an' he went at Marse Tumlin wid a dirk-knife. He kep' de cane
off'n his head by dodgin', but Marse Tumlin hit a back lick an' knock
de knife out'n his han' an' den dey clincht. Den Reub got up, an' start
to'rds um un de run.
"Well, suh, I wuz skeer'd an' mad bofe. I seed sump'n had ter be done,
an' dat mighty quick; so I tuck atter Reub, cotch 'm by de ellybows,
shoved 'im ahead faster dan he wuz gwine, an' steer'd 'im right to'rds
de caved-in place in de brier-bushes. He tried mighty hard ter stop, but
he wuz gwine down hill, an' I had de Ol' Boy in me. I got 'im close ter
de place, suh, an' den I gi' 'm a shove, an' inter de briers he went,
head over heels. All dis time I had de rock in my han'. By de time I
turn 'roun' I see Sam a-comin'. When de rumpus start up, his hoss shied
an' made a break down de hill wid 'im, but he slew'd 'im 'roun', an'
jumped off, an' here he come back, his face red, his hat off, an' ol'
Nick hisse'f lookin' out'n his eyes. I know'd mighty well I can't steer
him inter no brier-bush, an' so when he run by me I let 'im have de rock
in de burr er de year. 'Twa'n't no light lick, suh; I wuz plum venomous
by den; an' he went down des like a beef does when you knock 'im in de
head wid a ax."
Aunt Minervy Ann, all unconscious of her attitudes and gestures, had
risen from the floor, and now stood in the middle of the room, tall,
towering, and defiant.
"Den I run ter whar Marse Tumlin an' John Henry Gossett had been
scufflin'; but by de time I got dar John Henry squalled out dat he had
'nuff; an' he wa'n't tellin' no lie, suh, fer Marse Tumlin had ketched
his cane up short, an' he used it on dat man's face des like you see
folks do wid ice-picks. He like to 'a' ruint 'im. But when he holla dat
he got 'nuff, Marse Tumlin let 'im up. He let 'im up, he did, an' sorter
step back. By dat time Reub wuz a-climbin' out'n de briers, an' Sam
wuz makin' motions like he comin'-to. Marse Tumlin say, "Lemme tell you
cowardly rascals one thing. De nex' time a'er one un you bat his eye at
me, I'm gwine ter put a hole right spang th'oo you. Ef you don't b'lieve
it you kin start ter battin' um right now.' Wid dat, he draw'd out his
ervolver an' kinder played wid it. Reub say, "We'll drap it, Major; we
des had a little too much licker. But I'll not drap it wid dat nigger
dar. I'll pay her fer dis day's work, an' I'll pay 'er well.'
"Well, suh, de way he say it set me on fire. I stept out in de middle
er de road, an' 'low, '_Blast yo' rotten heart, ef you'll des walk out
here I'll whip you in a fa'r fight. Fight me wid yo' naked han's an'
I'll eat you up, ef I hatter pizen myse'f ter do it._'"
Once more Aunt Minervy Ann brought the whole scene mysteriously before
us. Her eyes gleamed ferociously, her body swayed and her outstretched
arm trembled with the emotion she had resummoned from the past. We
were on the spot. The red hill-side, the hedges of Cherokee roses,
Major Perdue grim and erect, Sam Gossett struggling to his feet, John
Henry wiping his beaten face, Reub astounded at the unwonted violence
of a negro woman, the buggy swerved to one side by the horse searching
for grass—all these things came into view and slowly faded away. Aunt
Minervy Ann, suddenly recollecting herself, laughed sheepishly.
"I ain't tellin' you no lie, suh, dat ar Rube Gossett stood dar like de
little boy dat de calf run over. He mought er had sump'n ugly ter say,
but Marse Tumlin put in. He 'low, 'Don't you fool yo'se'f 'bout dis
nigger 'oman. When you hit her you hits me. Befo' you put yo' han' on
'er you come an' spit in my face. You'll fin' dat lots de cheapes' way
er gittin' de dose what I got fer dem what hurts Minervy Ann.'
"Well, suh, dis make me feel so funny dat a little mo' an' I'd a got
ter whimperin', but I happen ter look 'roun', an' dar wuz our ol' cow
lookin' at me over a low place in de briers. She done got in de fiel' by
a gap back up de road, an' dar she wuz a-lookin' at us like she sorry.
Wid me, suh, de diffunce 'twixt laughin' an' cryin' ain't thicker dan a
fly's wing, an' when I see dat ol' cow lookin' like she ready ter cry,
I wuz bleeze to laugh. Marse Tumlin look at me right hard, but I say,
'Marse Tumlin, ol' June lis'nin' at us,' an den _he_ laughed.
"Dem Gossett boys brush deyse'f off good ez dey kin an' den dey put out
fer home. Soon ez dey git out er sight, Marse Tumlin started in ter
projickin'. He walk all 'roun' me a time er two, an' den he blow out
his breff like folks does when dey er kinder tired. He look at me, an'
say, '_Well, I be dam!_' 'Dat would 'a' been de word,' sez I, 'ef ol'
Minervy Ann hadn't 'a' been here dis day an' hour.' He shuck his head
slow. 'You hit de mark dat time,' sez he; 'ef you hadn't 'a' been here,
Minervy Ann, dem boys would sholy 'a' smasht me; but ef I hadn't 'a'
been here, I reely b'lieve you'd 'a' frailed out de whole gang. You had
two whipt, Minervy Ann, an' you wuz hankerin' fer de yuther one. I'll
hatter sw'ar ter de facts 'fo' anybody'll b'lieve um.' I 'low, ''Tain't
no use ter tell nobody, Marse Tumlin. Folks think I'm bad 'nuff now.'
"But, _shoo_! Marse Tumlin would 'a' mighty nigh died ef he couldn't
tell 'bout dat day's work. I ain't min' dat so much, but it got so dat
when de Gossetts come ter town an' start ter prankin', de town boys 'ud
call um by name, an' holla an' say, 'You better watch out dar! Minervy
Ann Perdue comin' 'roun' de cornder!' Dat wuz so errytatin', suh, dat
it kyo'd um. Dey drapt der dram-drinkin' an' spreein', an' now dey er
high in Horeb Church. Dey don't like me, suh, an' no wonder; but ef dey
kin git ter hev'm widout likin' me, I'd be glad ter see um go.
"Well, suh, I call de ol' cow, an' she foller long on 'er side er de
briers, an' when she got whar de gap wuz, she curl 'er tail over 'er
back an' put out fer home, des for all de worl' like she glad 'kaze me
an' Marse Tumlin frailed out de Gossett boys.
"I say, 'Marse Tumlin, I'm a member er de church an' I don't b'lieve in
fightin', but ef we hadn't er fit wid dem Gossetts we'd 'a' never foun'
dat ol' cow in de roun' worl'.' He 'low, 'An' ef we hadn't er fit wid
um, Minervy Ann, I'd 'a' never know'd who ter take wid me fer ter keep
de booger-man fum gittin' me.'
"Dat night, suh, Marse Bolivar Blasengame come rappin' at my do'. Hamp
wuz done gone ter bed, an' I wuz fixin' ter go. Marse Bolivar come in,
he did, an' shuck han's wid me like he ain't seed me sence de big war.
Den he sot down over ag'in' me an' look at me, an' make me tell 'im all
'bout de rumpus. Well, suh, he got ter laughin', an' he laughed twel he
can't hardly set in de cheer. He say, 'Minervy Ann, ef dem folks say a
word ter hurt yo' feelin's, don't tell Tumlin. Des come a-runnin' ter
me. He done had his han's on um, an' now I want ter git mine on um.'
"Dat 'uz de way wid Marse Bolivar. He wa'n't no great han' ter git in
a row, but he wuz mighty hard ter git out'n one when he got in. When
he start out he stop on de step an' say, 'Minervy Ann, I didn't know
you wuz such a rank fighter.' 'I'm a Perdue,' sez I. Wid dat he got ter
laughin' an' fur ez I kin hear 'im he wuz still a-laughin'. He b'longed
ter a mighty fine fambly, suh; you know dat yo'se'f."
"I think if I had a woman like you to attend to things about here, I'd
be happy," remarked the lady of the house with a sigh.
"No'm, you wouldn't—no ma'm!" exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann. "You'd hatter
be use ter me all yo' life. Yessum! I wouldn' be here a week 'fo' I'd
fly up an' say sump'n sassy—des like I does at home. You'd say it 'uz
sassy. When I fly up at Miss Vallie, she stan's up an' makes a mouf at
me, an' she look so purty when she do it, an' so much like ol' miss dat
I dunner whedder ter laugh er cry. Miss Vallie know 'tain't sassiness,
but you wouldn't know it, ma'm, an' we'd be cross ways.
"I made out like I wuz gwine ter quit Miss Vallie one time, an' I did
quit fer a whole fortnight. She make out she 'uz glad, an' she hire
Hamp's sister in my place. I went back dar one mornin' an' I hear dat
nigger 'oman flingin' 'er talk in de back porch, an' I see Miss Vallie
settin' in dar cryin'; she's a mighty tenderhearted creetur. Well'um,
fire won't burn me no wuss'n dat sight did, an' I des clum up dem steps
an' got dat nigger, an' clum down wid 'er, an' when I turn 'er loose de
few cloze what I lef' on 'er back ain't never fit 'er no mo'."
"It's a pity you are not around here sometimes," said the lady of the
house.
"_Sh-o-o-o!_ dey'd have me in de chain-gang, ma'm, 'fo' I'd been here
a week."