Jeff Gives a Pledge
Until recently it had been the custom for Miss Ann Peyton, on every
fine afternoon, to have old Billy drive her forth for an airing. It
exercised the horses and gave Billy a definite occupation, besides
affording some change of scene for his mistress. This habit of a
lifetime had been abandoned because Miss Ann and Billy had come to a
tacit understanding that the less the old coach was used the better
for all concerned. Like the hoop skirt, little of the original
creation remained. It had been repaired here and renewed there through
the ages, until the body was all that the carriage maker would have
acknowledged and that had many patches.
The coach had been a very handsome vehicle in its day, with heavy
silver mountings and luxurious upholstery. The silver mounting was
Billy's pride and despair. No fussy housekeeper ever kept her silver
service any brighter than Billy did the trimmings of the old carriage,
but in late years there never seemed to be room in any carriage house
for Miss Ann's coach and it took much rubbing to obliterate the stains
caused by continual exposure. Billy often found a new rent in the
cushions, from which the hair stuffing protruded impertinently. He
would poke it back and take a clumsy stitch only to have it burst
forth in a fresh place.
There had always been a place in the carriage house at Buck Hill for
Cousin Ann's coach until the family had gone in largely for
automobiles and then the carriage house had been converted into a
garage, the horse-drawn vehicles in a great measure discarded and now
the ancient coach must find shelter under a shed, with various farming
implements. Billy felt this to be as much of an insult as putting his
mistress out of the guest chamber, but he must make the best of it and
never let Miss Ann know. Of course the coach must be ready to take the
princess to the ball. Wheels must be greased and silver polished.
"I wisht my mammy done taught me howter sew," old Billy muttered, as
he awkwardly punched a long needle in and out of the cushions, vainly
endeavoring to unite the torn edges.
"What's the matter, Uncle Billy?" asked Jeff Bucknor, who had just
crawled from under one of the cars, where he had been delightfully
employed in a manner peculiar to some males, finding out what was
wrong with the mysterious workings of an automobile.
"Nothin' 'tall, Mr. Jeff! I wa' jes' kinder ruminatin' to myse'f. I
din't know nobody wa' clost enough ter hear me. I wa' 'lowin' ter sew
up this here cushion so's it would las' 'til me'n Miss Ann gits time
ter have this here ca'ige reumholzered. We're thinkin' a nice sof'
pearl gray welwit will be purty. What do you think, Mr. Jeff?"
"I think pearl gray would be lovely and it would look fine with the
handsome silver mountings, but in the meantime wouldn't you like me to
give you some tow linen slips that belong to one of the cars. You
could tack them on over your cushions and it would freshen things up a
lot."
"Thankee, Marster, thankee! If it wouldn't unconwenience you none."
Old Billy's eyes were filling with tears. It was seldom in late years
that anyone, white or colored, stopped to give him kind words or
offers of assistance. The servants declared the old man was too
disobliging himself to deserve help and the white people seemed to
have forgotten him.
Jeff got the freshly laundered linen covers and then climbed into the
old coach and deftly fastened them with brass headed tacks.
"Now I do hope Cousin Ann will like her summer coverings," he said.
"She's sho' too--an' we's moughty 'bleeged ter you, Marse Jeff. Miss
Ann an' me air jes' been talkin' 'bout how much you favors yo'
gran'pap, Marse Bob Bucknor as war. I don't want ter put no disrespec'
on yo' gran'mammy, but if Marse Bob Bucknor had er had his way Miss
Ann would er been her."
"I believe I have heard that Grandfather was very much in love with
Cousin Ann. Why did she turn him down?" asked Jeff, trying not to
laugh.
"Well, my Miss Ann had so many beau lovers she didn't know which-away
ter turn. Her bes' beau lover, Marse Bert Mason, got kilt in the wah
an' Miss Ann got it in her haid she mus' grieve jes' so long fer him.
But the truf wa' that Miss Ann wouldn't a had him if he had er come
back. She wa'n't ready ter step off but she wa' 'lowin' ter have her
fling. Then the ol' home kotched afire an' then me'n Miss Ann didn't
have no sho' 'nough home an' we got ter visitin' roun' an' Marse Bob,
yo' gran'pap, kep a pleadin' an' Miss Ann she kep' a visitin', fust
one place then anudder, an' Marse Bob he got kinder tired a followin'
aroun' takin' our dus' an' befo' you knowd it he done tramsfered his
infections ter yo' gran'mammy, an' a nice lady she wa', but can't none
er them hol' a can'le ter my Miss Ann, then or now--'cept'n maybe that
purty red-headed gal what goes a whizzin' aroun' the county an' don't
drap her eyes fer nobody. 'Thout goin' back a mite on my Miss Ann, I
will say that that young white gal sho' do run Miss Ann a clost
second."
"You mean Miss Judith Buck, Uncle Billy?" and Jeff's face flushed. He
had been thinking a great deal about Judith Buck and he was trying to
school himself to stop thinking about her. Yet it pleased him that the
old darkey should thus mention her.
"Yes sah, Miss Judith Buck."
"Goodness, Uncle Billy, what is that strange rumbling and buzzing I
hear?" interrupted Jeff. "Your carriage sounds as though you had
installed a motor in the rear."
"Lawsamussy, Mr. Jeff, that ain't nothin' but a bumbly bee nes', what
we done pick up somewhere on our roun's. Them bees sho' do give me
trouble an' it looks like I can't lose 'em. 'Course I could smoke 'em
out but somehow I hates ter make the po' things homeless an' I reckon
they's got a notion that the hollow place in the back er this here
ca'ige b'longs ter them an' the knot hole they done bored is the
front do'. When me'n Miss Ann has ter drive on I jes' sticks a cawn
cob in the hole an' the bees trabels with us. Sometimes their buzzin'
air kinder comp'ny ter me. I ain't complainin' but times I'm lonesome
an' I wisht I mought er had a little cabin somewheres an' mebbe some
folks er my own."
"Yes, Uncle Billy, I know you must get tired of not having a real home
of your own. Didn't you ever marry and haven't you any kin?"
"No sah, I ain't never married an' as fer as I knows I ain't got any
kin this side er the grabe. You see, sah, it wa' this a way. I been
kinder lookin' arfter Miss Ann sence she wa' a gal an' I always said
ter myself, 'Now when my mistis marries I'll go a courtin' but not
befo'.' I had kinder took up with Mandy, a moughty likely gal back
there jes' after the wa' and me'n her had been a talkin' moughty sof'
befo' Miss Ann lef' home that time when the ol' place burnt up. It
looks like I never could leave Miss Ann long enuf to go back an'
finish my confab with Mandy. An' arter a while Mandy must er got tired
of waitin' fer me an' she took up with a big buck nigger from Jeff'son
County an' they do say she had goin' onter twenty chilluns an' about
fo' husbands."
"Uncle Billy, you have certainly been faithful to Cousin Ann. I don't
see what she would have done without you."
"Gawd grant she won't never have ter, Marse Jeff! It'll be a sad day
fer this ol' nigger when Miss Ann goes but I'm a hopin' an' prayin'
she'll go befo' I'm called. If I should die they would'n be nobody ter
fotch an' carry fer Miss Ann. She gits erlong moughty fine here at
Buck Hill, but some places I have ter kinder fend fer us-alls right
smart. Miss Ann air that proudified she don't never demand but ol'
Billy he knows an' he does the demandin' fer her. An' I presses her
frocks an' sometimes I makes out to laundry fer her in some places
whar we visits an' the missus don't see fit ter put Miss Ann's siled
clothes along with the fambly wash. An' I fin's wil' strawberries fer
her, an' sometimes fiel' mushrooms, an' sometimes I goes out in the
fall an' knocks over a patridge an' I picks an' briles it an' sarves
it up fer a little extry treat fer my lady."
"She certainly would be lost without you, Uncle Billy, but I'm going
to make you a promise. If you should be called before my cousin I do
solemnly swear that I'll see to it that she has every comfort. The
family owes you that much and I for one will do what I can for Cousin
Ann. On the other hand, if Cousin Ann should go first, I'll do what I
can to help you."
"Oh, Marse Bob--I mean Marse Jeff--you air lif' a load from a ol'
man's heart. Yo' gran'pap air sho' come ter life agin in his prodigy.
Nothin' ain't gonter make much diffunce ter me arfter this. I been a
thinkin' some er my burdins wa' mo' than I kin bear, but 'tain't so.
My back air done fitted ter them, kase you done eased me er my load."
The old man wept, great tears running down his furrowed brown cheeks
and glistening on his long, grotesque beard.