A New Path.
Daph rose the following morning, at her usual early hour, and went to
perform her customary ablutions beside the well, keeping, however, a
sharp look out for Mrs. Ray, to be ready to beat a retreat as soon as
that formidable person should make herself heard. No Mrs. Ray appeared,
and Daph’s curiosity tempted her to take a peep into the room which
served as kitchen, parlor, and general abiding-place for Mrs. Ray and
Mary, though they slept in the loft above.
Mary was diligently ironing, at this early hour, giving from time to
time, dolorous glances at a great basketful of damp clothes, which
seemed to diminish but slowly under her efforts.
“Where’s your ma?” said Daph, as she thrust her head fairly in at the
door, regardless of consequences.
“Mother’s very sick this morning,” said Mary, sorrowfully, “she can’t
even turn herself in bed, and all these clothes must go home to-night,
we have had to keep them too long now, it has been so wet.”
“Nebber fret bout de close,” said Daph, cheerily; “I’se held a flat
’fore dis! Do Daph good to work a little, she mighty tired, sittin up
all day like a lady. Spose I jus steps up to look at your ma. May be I
might do somewhat for her, to make her feel some better.”
“O, don’t!” exclaimed Mary, hastily, “she might not like it.”
“Nebber you mind dat!” said Daph, “you jus show me de way.”
Mary pointed to the door that led to the narrow staircase, and Daph
needed no further guidance.
“Ye’s mighty sick, isn’t ye, Miss’ Ray?” said Daph, compassionately, as
she stepped to the bedside of the sufferer.
Mrs. Ray turned her head to the wall and groaned, but Daph was not to
be easily disconcerted.
“Spose I jus makes you a little warm drink, and kinder helps you to
frow off dis ere sickness?” said Daph, insinuatingly.
“O, my back! my bones! they ache so!” said the poor woman.
“It’s jus bein out in dis wet wedder, jus a-comin from dat awful hot
fire into de swash down rain,” said Daph. “White folks isn’t used to
such hard work. You jus can’t bear it, dats it.”
Daph had struck the right cord, and Mrs. Ray answered, “No; I aint
used to it. That’s true enough, but who have I got to help me, but just
that slip of a girl. O, if my boy had only lived!”
Daph did not wait to hear more of the complaints, which were the burden
of Mrs. Ray’s daily talk. She hastened to the kitchen, and with Mary’s
help, she soon prepared a steaming bowl of of herb-tea, which Mrs. Ray
took from her hand without a word. She would have resisted, when Daph
proceeded to bathe her feet in warm water, but the kind-hearted negro
went steadily on, regardless of opposition, saying, “You’s so very
sick, we’s mus jus take care of you, same as if you were a bit of a
baby. There now, let me jus put de cubber over you,” she said, as she
released the restive feet. “Now, if you could jus git a little sleep,
while I go dress de babies, I’se do believe you would feel mighty
better.”
Mrs. Ray did fall into a quiet sleep, the more sound from the night of
wakefulness and pain she had just passed. When she awoke, she heard
unusual sounds in the kitchen below, and if she could have peeped down
the stair-way, a pleasant scene would have met her eyes. A cheerful
fire roared up the wide chimney. Daph, revived by the welcome heat, was
ironing away at the great table, with real heartiness, while little
Mary, at her side, tried to move her slender arms in the same energetic
manner. Charlie was seated on the table, a happy spectator of these
proceedings, while Louise stood by him, sprinkling and folding a bit of
rag again and again, not doubting that she was amazingly useful.
“Mary! Mary!” said a voice from above, feebler and a little less sharp
than usual, “who’s down there with you?”
“It’s jus me and de childen, Miss’ Ray,” said Daph, putting her head
fearlessly up the stair-way. “Dat big basket o’ clothes wants ’tention,
and I’se jus thought I’se better be ironin a bit, to git de tings out
de way.”
Mrs. Ray made no answer, and Daph, after satisfying herself that the
patient was a little better, stepped quietly back into the kitchen.
Daph really enjoyed her busy day, and it was followed by sound natural
sleep, instead of hours of wakefulness and anxious thought.
It was more than a week before Mrs. Ray recovered from the violent
cold which had so suddenly removed her from the scene of operations;
meanwhile Daph and Mary had become excellent friends. The little girl
exchanged her hard work for the pleasant care of the children, and
Daph’s strong arms had the exercise they needed. Daph’s busy brain
had not meanwhile been idle; the sight of the great oven in the wide
chimney-corner had suggested to her a plan, which she was impatient to
carry out.
When Mrs. Ray first appeared in the kitchen, she gave an anxious look
about her, as if she expected to see nothing but disorder and dirt; but
the well-scoured floor and shining plates on the dresser had another
tale to tell. Of Daph’s skill in cookery, she had tasted several
striking specimens, since her appetite had in a measure returned, and
she looked on somewhat curiously, as Daph busied herself about the
fire, preparing what she called, “Just a bit relish, to strengthen up
Miss’ Ray, now she’s on her two feet again.”
Mary was with the children, and Mrs. Ray took the opportunity to say,
“You have been very good to me, Daph, and I am sure you had no reason;”
and tears of shame actually came into the poor woman’s eyes.
“Now don’t, Miss’ Ray!” said Daph, “I’se isn’t been and done anything
at all. Come, take a little breakfast, and ye’ll feel better, I’m sure.”
“What can I do for you, Daph?” continued Mrs. Ray, who had been really
touched by the persevering kindness of the honest negro.
“Well now, Miss’ Ray,” said Daph, “I wants to make a little money.
I jus thinks I might do de ironin for you ebery week, for you can’t
stand such hard work, and then, may be you’d jus let me hab de use ob
dat beauty oven, for somewhat I wants to do. I’se jus used to cookin,
and may be, if I makes some ob de cakes missus used to like so much, I
might sell dem, at some ob de grand houses, and so make a pretty sum,
by-and-bye.”
This arrangement was easily made, for Mrs. Ray felt within her but
little strength for work, and she was also anxious to shew her sense of
Daph’s late kindness.
One bright June morning, Daph put herself in what she called “splinker
order,” and the children shouted with delight when her toilet was made.
With the help of Mrs. Ray and Mary she had cut out and completed a
good calico dress, and a full white apron, and these, with her snowy
turban, made a most respectable appearance. A new basket, covered with
a clean cloth, was on her head, and within it was stored a variety of
nice cakes, which she was proud to show as a specimen of her cookery.
Mary stood at the window with the children, as Daph went off, and the
little ones kissed their hands to her until she was fairly out of sight.
Daph had learned her way about the city with ease, for she had quick
observation, and a ready memory, and she now found no difficulty in
reaching what she called the “grand houses,” which were ranged in
imposing rows, on what is now one of the business streets.
At door after door she tried to gain admittance, but the consequential
servants turned her off with a contemptuous word, and her heart began
to sink within her. At last, as an imperative footman was ordering her
away from a great family mansion, two ladies passed out, to enter a
carriage. Daph was desperate. She dropped a curtsy and said, “Ladies,
like some nice cakes?” and at the same moment she lowered her basket,
uncovered it, and displayed its tempting array.
The frank, good face of the negro, and the attractive appearance of her
wares, secured the attention of the ladies, and they purchased largely.
Encouraged by their kindness, Daph said, “If de ladies would jus
speak for Daph to some ob de great folks, to buy from her Tuesdays and
Fridays, Daph would try to please dem.”
“I like the woman, mother,” said Rose Stuyvesant, “shall we engage her
to come here always, and see what we can do for her?”
The mother assented, and Daph, turning to express her gratitude, looked
into the face of the youngest speaker.
It was a sweet face for man or angel to look into. Nature had made it
fair, and parted the golden hair above the soft blue eyes; but there
was a sweetness round the expressive mouth, and a purity in every line
of the oval face, that told of a soul at peace with God, and ruled by
his holy law.
Daph long remembered that face, and as she visited the Stuyvesant
mansion, week after week, she deemed that a bright day when she caught
even a glimpse of her, whom she called “the sweet young lady.”
Time passed on, and Daph thrived in her little traffic, until her cakes
were well known, and her form eagerly looked for in many a splendid
home; but the best triumphs of her skill she ever reserved for the
Stuyvesant mansion, where she had first found a welcome.