"The man, Mrs. Wakely?" asked Tesney.
"Your father."
"His name, please?"
"Do you not know? Has not Agnes told you all about it? She said she
would."
Tesney wore the ring, and renewed her hopes of getting something from
the man whom she considered her father.
That very afternoon a pony, hitched to a dogcart and driven by Tesney,
became frightened and ran. To keep the two children behind her from
jumping from the cart and receiving unnecessary bruises Tesney held them
with one hand and gripped the lines with the other. However, the
animal's wild flight was of short duration, for the man of Tesney's
suspicion stopped the pony and led the now docile beast back to Mrs.
Wakely's gate. As Tesney lifted the crying children from the cart he
said:
"Tesney, you are a good, brave girl. I was talking to Mrs. Wakely this
morning about you. I gave her a ring for you. How do you like the
present?"
"Well, sir, well," answered Tesney.
There were tears in her eyes, but the man did not see them.
"Tesney," continued the man, "how would you like to live with me?"
"Well, sir, well," answered Tesney.
Mrs. Wakely now hurried from the house, having witnessed the
misadventure of the ponycart.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Bankner, thank you!" she cried. "The children are
all right, are they not? Tesney is a good, brave girl, isn't she?"
"She is that, and more," replied the man, as he bowed and departed.
Tesney wore the ring, remembered the invitation, and renewed her hopes.
Three months from that day Tesney stood behind Aunt Agnes combing her
hair while Agnes examined the ring. Agnes was about sixty years old, an
ex-slave, a meddler, and liar. Her three hundred and fifty pounds kept
her in her big arm-chair. There she made the coffee, beat the biscuits,
abused the cook, lied to Mrs. Wakely, said the blessing, and urged all
to live good Christian lives. She had nursed Tesney and knew her
ancestry.
She called Tesney her daughter, and wished her for a daughter-in-law.
Tesney was fond of Agnes, but scorned her son, who was unfit for any
woman.
"Read, Aunt Agnes," said Tesney, "while I comb."
"No; you jes' stop combin' an' read."
Tesney read the inscription, and dropped a word about her suspicion.
"Now, comb on, chile. Me! My! Whew! Stop, chile, stop! Dat comb's mighty
fine. Whut dat you say 'bout dem ring-wuds an' dat big white man?"
Tesney repeated the inscription and emphasized her suspicion.
"Is dat so?" asked Agnes doubtfully.
"Didn't you as good as say so, Aunt Agnes?"
"Maybe I did, chile. Now, look heah, chile, is you gwine ter be my
daughter-in-law?"
"Aunt Agnes, it cannot be. You know your son is a bad man."
"Yes, chile; but er bad man needs er good wife."
"Thanks, Aunt Agnes; but it cannot be."
"George, you triflin' rascal, come heah," Agnes called to her son.
George entered and smiled at Tesney, who frowned and turned her back
upon him.
"Son," continued Agnes, "daughter says no. It's good 'nough. Go, you
triflin' rascal, go."
George went.
"Chile," said Agnes, with a great show of kindness, "you is right. You
knows dat you is good-blooded stock. Fine stylish white blood runs in
yo' veins. You is right, chile. Look up! Look up! You knows whut de
yeast does fur de bread. White dignity does dat fur yo' blood. You knows
whut de skerecrow does fur de cornfield. White wisdom does dat fur yo'
womanhood. Whut de steam does fur de steam-cyar white go-er-head does
fur you. You is right, chile. Look up! Now you mus' be feelin' mighty
good. Ain't you? George is er little no-er-count, but Agnes'll wuk fur
Tesney, an' George'll wuk fur Tesney, an' won't dat be er good bargain?
Honey chile, say dat it will, an' please de heart ob po' ole Agnes."
"Aunt Agnes, it cannot be."
"Does you mean dat, chile?"
"I mean it, Aunt Agnes."
"Does you mean eb'ry wud ob it?"
"I mean every word of it."
"Now, I'se gwine ter make you er speech, you ha'f-white nigger. You
thinks bekase yo' face ain't whut you calls raal black, an' bekase yo'
haih ain't smack-dab ter yo' haid, an' bekase---- Oh, Tesney, honey
chile, don't cry dat way. Aunt Agnes wus jes' er foolin'. I takes it all
back. Let me kiss you all ober de face. Dere now. I knows dat you's in
good humor. You sees, chile, how Aunt Agnes kin hurt yo' feelin's. You
better be George's wife den hab yo' feelin's hurt all de time."
"It cannot be, Aunt Agnes. Don't ask me any more."
"Now, I'll say de res' ob my speech. It'll not be er speech ob wuds,
nuther. It'll be one ob acts. It'll hit you hard. It'll make you 'shamed
ob yo-self. It'll dribe yo' friends ter turn dey backs erpon you. It'll
put you out ob doors. It'll make you say: 'I'se er fool--er fool.' It'll
hit you hard--hard."
Agnes stopped to breathe. Mrs. Wakely entered the kitchen. Tesney was
looking at the ring.
"Tesney," said Agnes, "yo' mother wus er ooman nearly white, an' yo'
father wus er nigger man."
"My father!" gasped Tesney. "I have always learned that my father
was----"
"Yo' father wus whut I tells you, chile."
"What have you always told me?"
"Listen! I tells you de facts. I tells you de facts."
"Aunt Agnes!" screamed Tesney.
"Tesney," said Mrs. Wakely; "that information seems to trouble you."
"Ha! ha! De chile! Ha! ha!" Agnes stopped to hold her sides.
"Why, Agnes, what is the matter?" asked Mrs. Wakely.
"Ha! ha! De chile thinks de man whut gibed you dat ring fur her is her
father."
"Do you, Tesney?" asked Mrs. Wakely sharply.
Tesney put the ring on her finger and remained silent.
"Speak, Tesney! The matter is serious," demanded Mrs. Wakely.
"I do," answered Tesney. "Did not Mr. Bankner give you the ring for me?"
"He did."
"Did you not say that the ring was sent to me by my father?"
"Your father sent it to you; but another brought it to me."
"Is you sma't 'nough ter see de differunce between de sendin' an' de
bringin' ob er thing, chile?"
Tesney looked at Mrs. Wakely and nodded.
"Have you not deceived yourself?"
"I have in part. Aunt Agnes, here----"
"De chile lies! De chile lies! Mrs. Wakely, de chile----!"
"Be quiet, Agnes," demanded Mrs. Wakely. "You are too fat to become
eloquent with ease and safety."
"She better be," said the washerwoman, who happened to stop at the
window a few seconds. "All de coffins erbout heah is fur heabenly-sized
people."
Agnes, in a rage at this interruption, turned and threw the rolling-pin
at the washerwoman, but she was at a safe distance.
"Tesney, Agnes said that she would explain this whole affair to you."
"Missus Wakely, you has knowed ole Agnes er long, long time, an' jes' as
sho' as you an' me is gwine ter de same heaben, jes' so sho' I wus gwine
ter tell dis chile de whole truth, but she kep' on makin' de
lookin'-glass talk erbout her face an' her haih dat I jes' thought I'd
fling out er little hint an' lay low."
"I knew your father, Tesney; and, as Agnes says, he was a negro."
"I reckons you'll beliebe now," shouted Agnes. "De white folks done said
so."
"Heah is yo' rollin'-pin," said the washerwoman, as she paused at the
window on her return.
"Hand it heah," demanded Agnes.
"I will when you is ob er sweet temper," answered the washerwoman.
"Please to explain about my father and the ring."
"Your father, Tesney," Mrs. Wakely went on, "was reared in Mr. Bankner's
family. He married a woman whom none of us, save Agnes, ever knew.
Shortly after the death of your mother, he killed a man in self-defense.
Mr. Bankner's people, knowing the circumstances, furnished your father
money with which to escape. Mr. Bankner, a few weeks before he gave me
the ring, saw your father and told him of you. Your father bought the
ring, had the inscription put in it, and intended to bring it to you
himself. However, at the request of Mr. Bankner he had returned to the
scene of the killing for trial, and was mobbed. Mr. Bankner secured the
ring before his death, and gave it to me for you. Now, as we are to
leave for the West within a year, Mr. Bankner would like to have you
serve in his family. He holds himself somewhat responsible for your
father's death, and would like to help you. I would have told you this
before, but Agnes asked me to leave it to her."
Mrs. Wakely now left the room, giving Agnes a stern look on her way out.
"Aunt Agnes," sobbed Tesney, "I have been deceived as to my father, and
maybe as to my mother."
"Has you bin deceibed in me too, chile?"
"Yes."
"Den ma'ry George, an' be deceibed in him."
"It cannot be, Aunt Agnes."
"Now I'll say de res' ob dat speech I tol' you erbout. You may ma'ry
George yit. Mr. Bankner may heah from dis. He _shall_ heah from it. Do
you think he'd ever let you stay in his house den?"
Tesney left the room in silence.
"George, you triflin' rascal, come heah. I got things started, son.
Listen! Watch me! You don't desarbe it, but watch me. Tell Mr. Bankner
dat Tesney says dat he is her father. Go! You good as got Tesney now.
Go!" As George went out the door, Agnes added: "Dat's er triflin'
rascal, but he's my George." Agnes began to grind the coffee, but
stopped to abuse the cook.
George contrived to have the message of Agnes reach Mr. Bankner's ears.
Agnes, in turn, told Tesney that the rich white man knew of her
suspicion. Tesney looked at the ring, and said: "I am Tesney the
deceived."
A few months after this Mr. Bankner sent his wife and children to
Europe, and came to board with Mrs. Wakely. Tesney, knowing that George
had had his mother's message delivered, feared the result. She worried
until she was a mere skeleton of her former self.
"I cannot face my blunder," she said. "I must leave."
She accordingly rented a room and lived alone. In a short time she took
to her bed as the result of isolation and worry.