Tesney, the frail, the good, the beautiful mulatto, was known of child,
man, woman, and beast.
"Wait, Tesney! We have something good for you and a secret to tell."
Daily such invitations came from the white children of the neighborhood.
Daily Tesney ate "good things" and listened to talks about dolls,
playmates, stories, and so on. The dogs that accompanied the children
pulled Tesney's apron strings and seemed to enjoy her good nature and
the confidence of her little white friends.
"What a servant she is!" said white family men, as they passed. "She
fondles the babies, and they do not cry. She talks, and older children
listen. She moves, and they follow her. She does not command, but they
do her bidding. There should be a million such as she."
"She is a lady born," said white women. "May no ill befall her."
Tesney was servant to Mrs. Wakely, a wealthy Southern white woman.
Tesney's presence was energy to the other young negro servants. They
thought of her, and put thought into their work. They looked at her and
dignified their persons. "There may be queens of the kitchen as well as
queens of the parlor," said they. "We belong to the first. Let us glory
in the honor."
The lace curtains at the windows, the pictures on the wall, the lint on
the carpet, the china in the closet, the wearing apparel of Mrs. Wakely,
and the food on the table, all knew the touch of Tesney's delicate
yellow hand. The washerwoman followed her instructions, and the clothes
lasted months longer.
The other servants learned through her that honesty in a servant is a
greater virtue than dignity in a parlor queen, and the grocery bill was
reduced ten per cent. She studied the needs of the family, and expenses
were reduced ten per cent. more. Her forethought for the family and her
genius in arranging games and work for the children gave Mrs. Wakely
many hours of leisure and comfort.
"The house can do without me for hours," said Mrs. Wakely to her guests,
"but it cannot do without Tesney for a minute."
Tesney's mother was a mulatto, with the hair and features of that type.
She died when Tesney was too young to know anything about her. Tesney
never knew her father, but she had a suspicion. Her suspicion was
wrong, and it caused all her trouble. She heard Agnes, who knew her
mother, talk, and it was upon Agnes' talk that Tesney had founded her
suspicion.
"He is my father," she often said to herself, as a certain rich man of
another race passed by. "He will give me something some day."
On her twenty-third birthday she saw Mrs. Wakely in company with this
man. After leaving the man, Mrs. Wakely said: "Tesney, here is a ring
your father sent to you. Look on the inside of it."