A DOMESTIC EPISODE
In spite of the scare all had received the previous Saturday, the New
Year's eve hop was thoroughly enjoyed, for neither Durand nor Peggy was
the worse for the experience, and the old year was danced out upon
light, happy toes, only one shadow resting upon the joyous evening.
For over a year, there had been an officer stationed at the Academy who
had been a source of discord among his fellow-officers, and a martinet
with the midshipmen. He was small, petty, unjust, and not above
resorting to methods despised by his confreres. He was loathed by the
midshipmen because they could never count upon what they termed "a
square deal," and consequently never knew just where they stood.
There were several who seemed to have incurred his especial animosity,
and Durand in particular he hated: hated because the boy's quick wits
invariably got him out of the scrapes which his mischievous spirit
prompted, and "Gumshoes," as the boys had dubbed the officer, owing to
his habit of sneaking about "looking for trouble," was not clever enough
to catch him.
And thus it came about that, being once more circumvented by Durand on
New Year's eve in a trivial matter at which any other officer would have
laughed, he resorted to ways and means which a man with a finer sense of
honor would have despised and--again he failed. But his chance came on
New Year's day, when Durand, led into one of the worst scrapes of his
life by Blue, fell into his clutches and the outcome was so serious that
the entire brigade was restricted to the Yard's limits for three months,
and gloom descended not only upon the Academy but upon all its friends.
Naturally, with her boys debarred from Middies' Haven, Mrs. Harold could
do little for the girls, and their only sources of pleasure lay in such
amusements as the town afforded and these were extremely limited. So
much time was spent at Severndale with Peggy, and it was during one of
these visits that Mrs. Harold figured in one of the domestic episodes of
Severndale. They were not new to Peggy for she was Southern-born and
used to the vagaries and childlike outbreaks of the colored people. But
even though Mrs. Harold had lived among them a great deal, and thought
she understood them pretty thoroughly, she had yet to learn some of the
African's eccentricities.
January dragged on, the girls working with Captain Pennell and Dr.
Llewellyn. During the month, one of the hands, Joshua Jozadak Jubal
Jones, by the way, fell ill with typhoid fever, and was removed to the
hospital. From the first his chances of recovery seemed doubtful, and
"Minervy" his wife, as strapping, robust a specimen of her race as poor
Joshua was tiny and, as she expressed it, "pore and pindlin'," was in a
most emotional frame of mind. Again and again she came up to the great
house to "crave consolatiom" from Miss Peggy, or Mammy Lucy, though,
truth to tell, Mammy's sympathies were not very deeply enlisted. Minervy
Jones did not move in the same SOCIAL SET in which Mammy held a
dignified position: Mammy was "an emerged Baptis'"; Minervy a "Shoutin'
Mefodist," and a strong feeling existed between the two little colored
churches. Peggy visited the hospital daily and saw that Joshua lacked
for nothing. Mrs. Harold was deeply concerned for Peggy's sake, for
Peggy looked to the well-being of all the help upon the estate with the
deep interest which generations of her ancestors had manifested, indeed
regarded as incumbent upon them and part of their obligation to their
dependents.
Days passed and poor Joshua grew no better, Minervy meanwhile spending
most of her time in Aunt Cynthia's kitchen where she could sustain the
inner woman with many a tidbit from the white folks' table, and
speculate upon what was likely to become of them if her "pore lil
chillern were left widderless orphans." It need hardly be added that the
prospective "widderless orphans" were left to shift largely for
themselves while she was accepting both mental and physical sustenance.
It was upon one of these visits, so indefinitely prolonged that Mammy's
patience was at the snapping point, that she decided to give a needed
hint. Entering the kitchen she said to Aunt Cynthia:
"'Pears ter me yo' must have powerful lot o' time on han', Sis' Cynthy."
"Well'm I AIN'T. No ma'am, not me," was Cynthia's prompt reply, for to
tell the truth she was beginning to weary of doling out religious
consolation and bodily sustenance, yet hospitality demanded something.
"Well, I reckons Miss Peggy's cravin' fer her luncheon, an' it's high
time she done got it, too. Is yo' know de time?"
"Cou'se I knows de time," brindled Cynthia, "but 'pears lak time don'
count wid some folks. Kin YO' see de clock, Mis' Jones?"
The question was sprung so suddenly that Minerva jumped.
"Yas'm, yas'm, Mis' Johnson, I kin see hit; yis, I kin," answered
Minervy, craning her neck for a pretended better view.
"Well, den, please, ma'am, tell me just 'zactly what it IS."
This was a poser. Minervy knew no more of telling time than one of her
own children, but rising from her chair, she said:
"I 'clar ter goodness, I'se done shed so many tears in ma sorrer and
grief over Joshua dat I sho' is a-loosin' ma eyesight." She then went
close to the clock, looked long and carefully at it, but shook her head
doubtfully. At length a bright idea struck her and turning to Cynthia
she announced:
"Why, Sis' Cynthia, I believes yo' tryin' ter projec' wid me; dat clock
don' STRIKE 'TALL. But I 'clar I mus' be a-humpin' masef todes dera
chillern. I shore mus'."
"Yes, I'd 'vise it pintedly," asserted Cynthia, while Mammy Lucy added:
"It's sprisin' how some folks juties slips dey min's."
Three days later word came to Severndale that Joshua could hardly
survive the day and Peggy, as she felt duty bound, went over to
Minervy's cabin. She found her sitting before her fire absolutely idle.
"Minervy," she began, "I have had word from the hospital and Joshua is
not so well. I think you would better go right over."
"Yas'm, yas'm, Miss Peggy, I spec's yo' sees it dat-a-way, honey, but--
but yo' sees de chillern dey are gwine car'y on scan'lus if I leaves
'em. My juty sho' do lie right hyer, yas'm it sho' do."
"But Minervy, Joshua cannot live."
"Yas'm, but he ain' in his min' an' wouldn't know me no how, but dese
hyer chillerns is ALL got dey min's cl'ar, an' dey STUMMICKS empty.
No'm, I knows yo' means it kindly an' so I teks hit, but I knows ma
juty," and nothing Peggy could say had any effect.
That night Joshua died. The word came to Severndale early the following
morning.
"Well," said Mrs. Harold, "from her philosophical resignation to the
situation yesterday, I don't imagine she will be greatly overcome by the
news."
"Mh--um," was Mammy's non-committal lip-murmur, and Peggy wagged her
head. Mrs. Harold and Polly were spending the week at Severndale, and
were dressing for breakfast. Their rooms communicated with Peggy's and
they had been laughing and talking together when the 'phone message
came.
"Mammy," called Peggy. "Please send word right down to Minervy."
"Yas, baby, I sends it, and den yo' watch out," warned Mammy.
"What for?" asked Peggy.
"Fo' dat 'oman. She gwine mak one fuss DIS time ef she never do again."
"Nonsense, Mammy, I don't believe she cares one straw anyway. She is the
most unfeeling creature I've ever seen."
"She may be ONfeelin' but she ain' ON-doin', yo' mark me," and Mammy
went off to do as she was bidden.
Perhaps twenty minutes had passed when the quiet of the lower floor was
torn by wild shrieks and on-rushing footsteps, with voices vainly
commanding silence and decorum: commands all unheeded. Then came a final
rush up the stairs and Minervy distraught and dishevelled burst into
Mrs. Harold's room, and without pausing to see whom she was falling
upon, flung her arms about that startled woman, shrieking:
"He's daid! He's daid! Dem pore chillern is all widderless orphans. I
felt it a-comin'! Who' gwine feed an' clothe and shelter dose pore
lambs? Ma heart's done bruck! Done bruck!"
"Minervy! Minervy! Do you know what you are doing! Let go of Mrs. Harold
this instant," ordered Peggy, nearly overcome with mortification that
her guest should meet with such an experience at Severndale. "Do you
hear me? Control yourself at once."
She strove to drag the hysterical creature from Mrs. Harold, but she
might as well have tried to drag away a wild animal. Minervy continued
to shriek and howl, while Mammy, scandalized beyond expression, scolded
and stormed, and Jerome called from the hall below.
Then Mrs. Harold's sense of humor came to her rescue and she had an
inspiration, for she promptly decided that there was no element of grief
in Minervy's emotions.
"Minerva, Minerva, HAVE you ordered your mourning? You knew Joshua could
not live," she cried.
Had she felled the woman with a blow the effect could not have been more
startling. Instantly the shrieks ceased and releasing her hold Minervy
struck an attitude:
"No'm, I HASN'T! I cyant think how I could a-been so careless-like, an'
knowin' all de endurin' time dat I boun' fer ter be a widder. How could
I a-been so light-minded?"
"Well, you have certainly got to have some black clothes right off. It
would be dreadful not to have proper mourning for Joshua."
Meanwhile Peggy and Polly had fled into the next room.
"I sho' mus', ma'am. How could I a-been so 'crastinatin' an' po' Joshua
a-dyin' all dese hyer weeks. I am' been 'spectful to his chillern; dat I
ain't. Lemme go right-way an' tink what I's needin'. But please ma'am,
is YO' a widder 'oman? Case ef yo' is yo's had spurrience an' kin tell
me bes' what I needs."
It was with difficulty that Mrs. Harold controlled her risibles, so
utterly absurd rather than pathetic was the whole situation, for not one
atom of real grief for Joshua lay in poor, shallow Minervy's heart. Then
Mrs. Harold replied:
"No, Minervy. I am not a widow; at least I am only a GRASS widow, and
they do not wear mourning, you know."
"No'm, no'm, I spec's not. But what mus' I git for masef an' does po'
orphans!"
"Well, you have a black skirt, but have you a waist and hat? And you
would better buy a black veil; not crape, it is too perishable; get
nun's veiling, and--"
"Nun's veilin'? Nun's veilin'?" hesitated Minervy. "But I ain' NO NUN,
mistiss, I'se a WIDDER. I ain' got no kind er use fer dem nunses wha'
don' never mahry. I'se been a mahryin' 'oman, _I_ is."
"Well you must choose your own veil then," Mrs. Harold managed to reply.
"Yas'm, I guesses I better, an' I reckons I better git me a belt an'
some shoes, 'case if I gotter be oneasy in ma min' dars no sort o'
reason fer ma bein' uneasy in ma FOOTS too, ner dem chillern neither.
Dey ain' never is had shoes all 'roun' ter onct, but I reckons dey
better he fitted out right fer dey daddy's funeral. Dey can't tend it
hut onct in all dey life-times no how. And 'sides, I done had his life
assured 'gainst dis occasiom, an' I belongs ter de sassiety wha' burys
folks in style wid regalions. Dey all wears purple velvet scaffses ober
dey shoulders an' ma'ches side de hearse. Dar ain' nothin' cheap an' no
'count bout DAT sassiety. No ma'am! An' I reckons I better git right
long and look arter it all," and Minervy, still wiping her eyes, hurried
from the room, Mammy's snort of outrage unheeded, and her words:
"NOW what I done tole yo', baby? I tells yo' dat 'oman ain' mo'n ha'f
human if she IS one ob ma own color. _I_'S a cullured person, but she's
jist pure nigger, yo' hyar me?" and Mammy flounced from the room.
Polly and Peggy reentered Mrs. Harold's room. She had collapsed upon the
divan, almost hysterical, and Polly looked as though someone had dashed
cold water in her face. Peggy was the only one who accepted the
situation philosophically. With a resigned expression she said:
"THAT'S Minervy Jones. She is one type of her race. Mammy is another.
Now we'll see what she'll buy. I'll venture to say that every penny she
gets from Joshua's life-insurance will be spent upon clothes for herself
and those children."
"And _I_ started the idea," deplored Mrs. Harold.
"Oh, no, you did not. She would have thought of it as soon as she was
over her screaming, only you stopped the screaming a little sooner, for
which we ought to be grateful to you. She is only one of many more
exactly like her."
"Do you mean to tell me that there are many as heedless and foolish as
she is?" demanded Mrs. Harold.
"Dozens. Ask Harrison about some of them."
"Well, I never saw anything like her," cried Polly, indignantly. "I
think she is perfectly heartless."
"Oh, no, she isn't. She simply can't hold more than one idea at a time.
Just now it's the display she can make with her insurance money. They
insure each other and everything insurable, and go half naked in order
to do so. The system is perfectly dreadful, but no one can stop them.
Probably every man and woman on the place knows exactly what she will
receive and half a dozen will come forward with money to lend her, sure
of being paid back by this insurance company. It all makes me positively
sick, but there is no use trying to control them in that direction. I
don't wonder Daddy Neil often says they were better off in the old days
when a master looked after their well-being."
An hour later Minervy was driving into Annapolis, three of her boon
companions going with her, the "widderless orphans" being left to get on
as best they could. She spent the entire morning in town, returning
about three o'clock with a wagonful of purchases. Poor Joshua's remains
were being looked after by the Society and would later come to
Severndale.
Mrs. Harold and the girls were sitting in the charming living-room when
Jerome came to ask if Miss Peggy would speak with Minervy a moment.
"Oh, DO bring her in here," begged Mrs. Harold.
Peggy looked doubtful, but consented, and Jerome went to fetch the
widow.
When she entered the room Mrs. Harold and the girls were sorely put to
it to keep sober faces, for Minervy had certainly outdone herself; not
only Minervy, but her entire brood which followed silently and
sheepishly behind her. Can Minervy's "mourning" be described? Upon her
head rested a huge felt hat of the "Merry Widow" order, and encircling
it was a veil of some sort of stiff material, more like crinoline than
crape. There were YARDS of it, and so stiff that it stuck straight out
behind her like a horse's tail. Under the brim was a white WIDOW'S
ruche. Her waist was a black silk one adorned with cheap embroidery, and
a broad belt displayed a silver buckle at least four inches in diameter,
ornamented with a huge glass carbuncle at least half the buckle's size.
On her own huge feet were a pair of shining patent-leather shoes
sporting big gilt buckles, and each child wore PATENT-LEATHER DANCING
POMPS.
"Why, Minervy," cried Peggy, really distressed, "How COULD you?"
"Why'm, ain' we jist right? I thought I done got bargains wha' jist
nachally mak' dat odder widow 'oman tek a back seat AN' sit down. SHE
didn't git no sich style when James up an died," answered Minervy,
reproach in her tone and eyes.
"But, Minervy," interposed Mrs. Harold. "That bright red stone in the
buckle; how can you consider THAT MOURNING? And your veil shouldn't
stick--I mean it ought to hang down properly."
Minervy looked deeply perturbed. Shifting from one patent-leather-shod
foot to the other, she answered:
"Well'm, well'm, I dare say you's had more spurrience in dese hyer
t'ings 'n I is, but dat ston certain'y did strike ma heart. But ef yo'
say 'taint right why, pleas ma'am git a pair o' scissors an' prize it
out, tho' I done brought de belt fer de sake ob dat buckle. Well,
nemmine. I reckons I kin keep it, an' if I ever marhrys agin it sho will
come in handy."
The combined efforts of Mrs. Harold, Peggy and Polly eventually got
Minervy passably presentable as to raiment, but there they gave up the
obligation.
On the following Sunday the funeral was held with all the ceremony and
display dear to the African heart, but "Sis Cynthia, Mammy Lucy and
Jerome were too occupied with domestic duties to attend." "I holds masef
clar 'bove sich goin's-on," was Mammy's dictum. "When _I_ dies, I
'spects ter be bur'rid quiet an' dignumfied by ma MISTISS, an' no sich
crazy goin's on as dem yonder."
Later Minervy and her "nine haid ob chillern" betook themselves into the
town of Annapolis where matrimonial opportunities were greater, and,
sure enough, before two months were gone by she presented herself to
Peggy, smiling and coy, to ask:
"Please, ma'am, is yo' got any ol' white stuff wha' I could use fer a
bridal veil?"
"A BRIDAL veil?" repeated Peggy, horrified at this new development.
"Yas'm, dat's what I askin' fer. Yo' see, Miss Peggy, dat haid waiter
man at de Central Hotel, he done fall in love wid ma nine haid o' po'
orphanless chillern an' crave fer ter be a daddy to 'em. An' Miss Peggy,
honey, Johanna she gwine be ma bride's maid, an' does yo' reckon yo's
got any ole finery what yo' kin giv' her? She's jist 'bout yo' size,
ma'am."
Johanna was Minervy's eldest daughter.
"Yes. I'll get exactly what you want," cried Peggy, her lips set and her
eyes snapping, for her patience was exhausted.
Going to her storeroom Peggy brought to light about three yards of white
cotton net and a pistachio green mull gown, long since discarded. It was
made with short white lace sleeves and low cut neck.
"Here you are," she said, handing them to Minervy who was thrown into a
state of ecstacy. "But wait a moment; it lacks completeness," and she
ran to her room for a huge pink satin bow. "There, tell Johanna to pin
THAT on her head and the harlequin ice will be complete."
But her sarcasm missed its mark. Then Peggy went to her greenhouses and
gathering a bunch of Killarney roses walked out to the little burial lot
where the Severndale help slept and laying them upon Joshua's grave said
softly:
"YOU were good and true and faithful, and followed your light."
[Footnote: NOTE--The author would like to state that this episode
actually did take place upon the estate of a friend.]