j 
 
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 Kl 1 6 1995 
 
 Date: Tue, 11 Apr- 95 11:07 PDT 
 
 To: ELI7E16SMVS. OAC. UCLA. EDU 
 
 From: Andre Bolen 
 
 Subject: 95-0178441 (Printed: 04/11/95) 
 
 X-Tracking Number: 95-O178441 
 
 ***PHYSICAL 
 Deliver to: 
 
 ITEM DELIVERY*** 
 Claremont College 
 Honnold Library ILL 
 
 Claremont; CA 
 91711 
 
 Owning Library 
 
 Record Number 
 
 Call Number 
 
 Title of book 
 
 Author of book: 
 
 2 1158 00461 2785 
 
 Claremont College f 
 
 (310) 
 
 Honnold Library ILL 
 
 Claremont/ CA 
 
 91711 
 
 SR 
 
 MC2632122 
 
 CLYE CLUR 
 
 Mammy 's white fol 
 
 Sampson, Emma Spe
 
 Mammy's 
 White Folks 
 
 By 
 
 Emma Speed Sampson 
 
 Author of 
 "Billy and the Major" 
 
 The Reilly & Lee Co. 
 
 Chicago
 
 Copyright, 1919 
 
 by 
 The Reilly & Lee Co. 
 
 AU Rights Reserved 
 
 Made in U. 8. A. 
 
 Published October 30, 1919 
 
 Second Printing, November 3, 1919 
 
 Third Printing, March 15, 1920 
 
 Mammy's White Folks
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTB* PAGE 
 
 1 THE IWWBKRUPTING BABY 11 
 
 2 ACCEPTING THE MASCOT 24 
 
 3 WARM WATER AND MUSTARD 38 
 
 4 THE WILY GODMOTHER 45 
 
 5 MAMMY GETS A SURPRISE 53 
 
 6 JUSTIFYING A LIE 62 
 
 7 THE IMAGINARY PORTRAIT 75 
 
 8 A WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY 86 
 
 9 ESTBCIK MEETS A FAIRY PRINCE 96 
 
 10 BRANCHING OUT 113 
 
 11 DOCTOR- JIM DUDLEY 124 
 
 12 A FRDSNB IN NEED 134 
 
 13 THE TOO-PERFECT ATTENDANT 145 
 
 14 A MONOLOGUE ON LOVE 160 
 
 15 FINBINQ A NAMESAKE 168 
 
 16 A MOMENTOUS DECISION 185 
 
 17 ALMOBT A PROPOSAL 195 
 
 18 PLANNING FOR A CATCH 205 
 
 19 MAMMY LOSES HER WAY 212 
 
 20 THE IDENTIFICATION OF MRS. RICHARDS 222 
 
 21 A SATISFACTORY EXPLANATION 229 
 
 22 AN EMPTY HOUSEHOLD . . , 240 
 
 1824062
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 23 DISGUISING A HOME -.-. 250 
 
 24 HER JOYFUL ARRIVAL 260 
 
 25 NOTHING THE SAME 269 
 
 26 THE PLAN OF PATIENCE 276 
 
 27 ESTHER AND JIM N 281 
 
 28 SETTING A TRAP 289 
 
 29 A PATIENT'S IDENTITY 297 
 
 30 THE UNBELIEVABLE STORY 304 
 
 31 ESTHER LEARNS THE TRUTH 310 
 
 32 CLEARING THE ATMOSPHERE 821 
 
 33 MAMMY'S JUSTIFICATION. . 331
 
 Mammy's 
 White Folks
 
 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Doc Andy, is you a rang yo' bell? " 
 
 " No, Mammy, I didn't ring." 
 
 " Well, I done hearn a bell a-janglin', an' fo' 
 Gawd I can't tell whicht one it is. Mus' a been 
 the win* an* rain. I never seed a house wif so 
 many bells, all a-soundin' alike. Fust I think 
 it is the phome, an' whin I takes down the lil 
 deceiver, all I kin make out is some gal a-sayin' : 
 'What number?' An' whin I says: ' Sebenty- 
 seben, Gyardin Street!' she jaw back wif * In- 
 f ermation ! * I reckon she take me f er some 
 fool what don' know whar I libs." 
 
 Dr. Wallace laughed as he dealt the cards, 
 and his two companions joined in. The old 
 woman looked curiously over the shoulder of 
 her master as the game went on. 
 
 Mammy was worried. As she watched the 
 play of the three men, disapproval was writ 
 
 11
 
 12 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 in every feature of her worn old face. She 
 hated to see Doc Andy frittering away his 
 time in this fashion. She knew that patients 
 would not seek him out if he continued to travel 
 the down-hill path on which he had started. 
 Card-playing and drinking, as Mammy was 
 well aware, were not considered desirable re 
 commendations for a young physician. 
 
 Nor did Doc Andy's guests meet with much 
 favor in the old woman's eyes. True, she did 
 like solemn Peter Roche, but Peter was an 
 old college chum of Dr. Wallace. He was not 
 "one of them thar fly-by-nights," as Mammy 
 put it, " what never done a lick er wuck in 
 they lives." 
 
 " Mr. Peter," she would s&y, " is a gem'man. 
 He talks quiet an* dresses quiet an* looks lak 
 he's willin' ter leave a drap in the bottle mo'n 
 that there Stanley wif his loud talk an' red 
 neckercher an* his greedy th'oat." 
 
 Stanley was Mammy's pet aversion. She did 
 not like his roving black eyes and his small 
 white hands. 
 
 " Ain't got no use fer lil-handed men folks," 
 she would say. " If'n they'd ever done any- 
 thin' wuth doin', I 'low they would a-biggened 
 up." 
 
 Andrew Wallace had shown great promise in
 
 The Interrupting Baby 13 
 
 his youth in spite of an extreme shyness that 
 had always held him back at the crucial moment. 
 His greatest handicap was his fear of women. 
 He was afraid of all women that is, all but 
 Mammy. He declared that he would rather 
 starve than be a woman's doctor. Had he not 
 possessed a comfortable patrimony, undoubt 
 edly he would have starved. It made little dif 
 ference to the inhabitants of the southern city 
 to which he had come that he had graduated 
 with the highest honors from one of the best 
 medical colleges in the country. His experience 
 in New York hospitals meant nothing to them. 
 All they knew was that a bashful young man 
 had come to live in the old Grant house, with 
 a capable-looking old colored woman to keep 
 house for him. The doctor's new sign, recently 
 hung out, was a small and modest one. But it 
 was really not hung out at all, for it was sus 
 pended so far behind the vines and lilac bushes 
 that it could be found only after diligent search. 
 On that windy, rainy night in late March, 
 when the lilac leaves were beginning to make a 
 decided showing and the violets that bordered 
 the brick walk leading from the street to the 
 deep hospitable porch were making the air 
 sweet with their fragrance, the doctor and his 
 old servant had been established in the Grant
 
 14 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 house about four months. Up to that time, 
 of pay patients he had none, but he had a 
 growing charity practice. Charity patients 
 could not object if their physician sat up more 
 than half the night playing poker with doubtful 
 companions, nor would they withdraw their 
 patronage if professional calls were made more 
 or less haphazardly. 
 
 Mammy was the only person who objected 
 to the doctor's manner of living. The charity 
 patients were sure to hold a monopoly of his 
 expert services so long as he kept to his mode 
 of life. Naturally they were not eager for a 
 reform. Most of the young men who dropped 
 in almost every night to enjoy a quiet little 
 game, or to moisten their parched throats with 
 Dr. Wallace's best bourbon, would have found 
 it difficult to conceal their chagrin had they 
 noticed in their host any yearning for a return 
 to the straight and narrow path. But wise old 
 Mammy knew full well that unlimited free 
 drinks would finally mean limited food and 
 fuel, clamoring collectors and loss of credit. 
 
 Not only did Mammy look with small love 
 on most of Doc Andy's friends, but she deeply 
 resented her young master's shyness with 
 women. 
 
 " No doctor ain't a gonter git along 'thout
 
 The Interrupting Baby 15 
 
 women folks any mo'n preachers kin. Women 
 is allus a-thinkin' about they sick souls an' 
 bodies, an' when they ain't a-worryin' 'bout 
 they own, they is a-tryin' to heal some other 
 pusson's. It's allus physic or prayer wif women. 
 They is got ter hab doctors an' preachers, an' 
 doctors an' preachers is got ter hab them." 
 
 But Dr. Wallace either would or could not 
 overcome his terror of the fair sex. He man 
 aged to conceal it where charity patients were 
 concerned, by presenting a cold, stern exterior, 
 thereby scaring them until the wiser among them 
 learned that he was more afraid of them than 
 they were of him. Some of these women almost 
 worshipped the young doctor, with the kindly, 
 sympathetic mouth which he tried so hard to 
 make grim. Some of them even divined that he 
 was not happy and wondered why. Dr. Wal 
 lace had meant to make more of his youth and 
 his talents. His dream had been so much larger 
 than the reality this stupid existence with its 
 humdrum days and carnival nights. 
 
 But through it all, Mammy patiently waited, 
 serenely confident that sooner or later Doc 
 Andy would come to his senses and turn over a 
 new leaf. 
 
 While Dr. Wallace and his two guests played 
 slowly and silently, Mammy bustled in and out
 
 16 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 of the room, pausing a moment now and then 
 at her master's side. 
 
 The host dealt the cards deftly, and the hig, 
 silent young man at his left opened up with a 
 small bet. Peter Roche was a slow and wary 
 player. Stanley, who sat on the doctor's right, 
 played quickly and recklessly. The furtive 
 eagerness with which he glanced at his cards 
 was an indication that winning or losing meant 
 more to him than he cared to confess. Grasp 
 ing a huge pile of red and blue chips, he shoved 
 them into the center of the table. 
 
 " I see, Stanley, you are determined to break 
 me," declared Dr. Wallace gaily, placing his 
 last chip on the pile. " I reckon I'll have to 
 borrow from Peter. Don't go, Mammy, you 
 might bring me good luck." 
 
 "'Me bring you good luck, Doc Andy! I'd 
 er brung it long ergo if'n I could er. I's mo' 
 of er hoodoo, I's afeard." 
 
 The host helped himself from Peter's 
 pile. 
 
 " I call!" finally he cried. 
 
 He won. As he raked in the stacks of red, 
 white and blue chips, Peter smiled grimly at 
 the discomfiture of his fellow guest. 
 
 " Bluffing, as usual ! " he muttered under his 
 breath. Stanley's handsome black eyes glit-
 
 The Interrupting Baby 17 
 
 tered greedily as his host gleefully piled up his 
 winnings. 
 
 "See, Mammy, what did I tell you? I had 
 awful luck all evening until you came in." 
 
 " No, sir, I nebber bringed no good luck," 
 grumbled the old negress, " mus* be somebody 
 else. But listen! Ain't dat a bell a-janglin? " 
 
 " I don't hear anything." 
 
 " Well, I hearn sompen, an I's gonter keep 
 on perusin' roun' til I fin' out what it is." 
 
 " Get a bottle first ! " demanded Stanley, but 
 the old woman marched off without a backward 
 glance, every line of her erect figure and 
 bandana-kerchiefed head plainly indicating that 
 she took orders from nobody but her master. 
 
 " I wouldn't stand for her impertinence a 
 minute," said Stanley, resentfully. 
 
 " Impertinence! Mammy impertinent to me! 
 Why, man, she has raised me ! " declared the 
 host. " I couldn't get along five minutes with 
 out Mammy." 
 
 Mammy did not return at once. In fact, she 
 was gone so long that Dr. Wallace wondered if, 
 unconsciously, he had done something to offend 
 the dear old woman. 
 
 " Don't deal yet, Stanley, please ! Let me 
 pay my debts," he said, handing over the 
 stacked chips to Peter.
 
 18 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "Going to stop?" Stanley had a slight 
 sneer on liis lips. 
 
 " Certainly not not while I am the win 
 ner!" 
 
 " Perhaps we had better stop," Peter broke 
 his silence. " Doc doesn't often get a chance 
 to stop winner." 
 
 "Pooh, that's all right! But what is that 
 queer noise? It isn't a bell. Mammy," he 
 called, "what's that racket?" 
 
 No answer from Mammy, who was noisily 
 unlocking the front door It was Stanley's 
 deal. His small white hands fingered the 
 cards so rapidly that one could scarcely follow 
 his motions. Peter looked suspiciously at the 
 dealer as he flashed the cards from the pack. 
 Peter opened up with a small bet. He was 
 nothing of a plunger. He played the game of 
 poker with the same quiet caution that he 
 played the game of life. For several rounds 
 the betting was conservative and sensible. Sud 
 denly Stanley came in with an alarming increase. 
 
 " Let's whoop her up! " 
 
 " I think I'll drop out," was Peter's sane 
 decision. This time Stanley might not be 
 bluffing. 
 
 The host wearily counted out enough blue 
 chips for a small raise. He wished his guests
 
 The Interrupting Baby 19 
 
 would quit and go home. He wished Mammy 
 would hurry up and get the door open, and 
 that the strange noise he kept on hearing would 
 stop. 
 
 Again Stanley came in with a big increase. 
 Dr. Wallace called him. Stanley showed his 
 disgust at the small amount of his certain win 
 nings as he laid on the table four smiling kings. 
 
 "Gee whillikens!" whistled Peter. "What 
 sense I did show in going when going was 
 good. You weren't bluffing after all." 
 
 The doctor spread out four aces. Stanley 
 had his hand curved ready to rake in the chips. 
 On his countenance was mingled astonishment 
 and rage. 
 
 Peter eyed him keenly. Could it be possible 
 that Stanley had stacked the deck so that he 
 might hold the four face cards, and was 
 defeated only by Andrew Wallace's phenomenal 
 luck? Peter had clumsy hands that fumbled 
 the cards, and he was inclined to suspect any 
 one who was so adroit as Stanley. 
 
 Mammy had succeeded at last in opening the 
 refractory door, and again that strange sound 
 filled the old house. Dr. Wallace jumped from 
 his chair, upsetting the card table. The chips, 
 red, white and blue, rolled over the floor. The 
 cards were scattered hither and yon. To the
 
 20 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 practiced ear of a doctor there was no doubt 
 about that sound. When Mammy hurriedly 
 returned to the room with a squirming bundle 
 held close in her arms, her master was not 
 astonished. 
 
 " Look what some low flung pusson done lef ' 
 on our do'step ! Lef it 'thout so much as ' by 
 yo' leave ! ' Wet as a rat, too ! " 
 
 She laid the bundle on the card table, which 
 Peter had righted, and with trembling hands 
 began unwrapping it, grumbling all the while. 
 The young men stood as though frozen. If 
 Mammy had been preparing to turn loose a 
 rattlesnake, they could not have looked more 
 frightened. 
 
 There were many layers around the bit of 
 humanity that had come among them; first, a 
 woman's blue-serge, rainsoaked jacket; then, a 
 piece of blanket; then, several yards of cheap 
 white flannelette and some bits of coarse lawn. 
 
 It was a girl. The stage of its redness made 
 Dr. Wallace and the knowing Mammy decide 
 that it could not be much more than a week 
 old. Such a tiny little girl she was, a philoso 
 pher, too, as the moment the wrappings were 
 removed she stopped the incessant wailing and 
 blinked at the company. 
 
 Everybody knows that babies do not hold out
 
 The Interrupting Baby 21 
 
 their arms to be taken before they are two 
 weeks old, nor do they smile. You niay search 
 through all the baby diaries kept by fond 
 parents, and nowhere will you see that baby 
 held out her arms or smiled on the eighth or 
 even the ninth day. But Mammy would have 
 it that this little girl held out her arms to her 
 to be taken, and Doc Andy insisted that she 
 smiled a little three-cornered smile right in his 
 face as he bent over her. At any rate Mammy 
 took her, and the doctor treasured the little 
 crooked smile in his bashful heart. 
 
 " Lawd love us I Now ain't she peart ? Come 
 here ter yo* Mammy, sugar pie! She gonter 
 wrop you up warm an* snug." 
 
 As the old woman picked up the baby, some 
 thing fell from the folds of the flannel. Stan 
 ley sprang forward to get it, but Peter was 
 ahead of him. It looked like a bundle of legal 
 documents and that was in Peter's line. It 
 proved to be nothing more interesting than an 
 envelope of patterns, " Baby's First Clothes." 
 
 ' Well, if the po' thing ain't been tryin' ter 
 make some baby clothes! She's already cut out 
 them lil white rags, an' I reckon this flannil is 
 fer pettiskirts. Po' thing! Po* thing! " Mammy 
 already had forgotten about the low flung 
 pusson.
 
 22 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 'Yes, poor thing!" echoed the doctor. 
 
 " And so, you are not such a woman hater as 
 we have been led to believe!" exclaimed Stan 
 ley, who had been turning over the swaddling 
 rags as though searching for something. He 
 had even slipped his hand into the pockets of the 
 serge jacket. 
 
 " I couldn't hate a little fairy baby like thi^" 
 declared Dr. Wallace. 
 
 " I wasn't speaking of the baby but her 
 mother." 
 
 " Her mother! Who is her mother? " 
 
 " Oh, come now, Dr. Wallace! Don't play 
 the innocent. You are some years older than 
 this foundling, and so are we." 
 
 " I don't know what you are talking about 
 could you mean but surely not 1 " The doc 
 tor's face wore a blank look at the suggestion in 
 his guest's words and his insinuating glance. 
 
 "Yes, he means it!" cried Mammy. "He 
 means it 'caze he ain't got no decency hisse'f 
 an' he 'lows ev'ybody is lak him. I knows I is 
 a ol' black 'oman what ain't got no business a 
 sassin' white folks, but I aint a gonter sot here 
 an let no po' white trash call my young marster 
 out'n his name." The old woman's voice arose 
 almost to a scream. 
 
 "Mammy! Mammy! You mustn't say that,"
 
 The Interrupting Baby 23 
 
 pleaded Dr. Wallace. " It was a jest on Mr. 
 Stanley's part." 
 
 "Jes' a lie! That's what it war. If'n it 
 warn't fer de sweetness and beautifulness er dis 
 lil lamb I'd be a thinkin' he war a-talkin' that 
 a way jes' ter put us off'n de track an' he was 
 'sposible fer de baby his own se'f, but Gawd 
 hisse'f couldn't a formed no miricle ekal ter 
 lettin' sech a debble be de paw er sech a angel." 
 
 " Mammy ! Mammy ! Please calm yourself. 
 Remember, he is my guest." 
 
 " He was the fust ter fergit it." 
 
 Stanley was somewhat nonplussed by the old 
 i regress's tirade, but Peter could not conceal 
 his mirth and delight at what he considered 
 Mammy's timely thrust. 
 
 " I guess I'll go," and Stanley sullenly took 
 his departure. 
 
 ' Yes, an I guess you'll stay away, too," 
 Peter muttered as the front door slammed. 
 ' You didn't bother to settle up before 
 leaving."
 
 Chapter 2 
 ACCEPTING THE MASCOT 
 
 " Doc Andy, I wanter hab a lil talk wif 
 you." 
 
 "All right, Mammy!" 
 
 It was the morning after the little creature 
 had been left on Dr. Wallace's doorstep, a 
 morning in late March. Everything seemed 
 swept and scrubbed by the wind and rain of 
 the night before. The young doctor had a 
 feeling that he, too, had undergone a kind of 
 spring cleaning. In the first place, he had 
 slept well, although he had rather expected 
 that the baby's crying would keep him awake. 
 Then, when morning came, he had awakened 
 with a clear brain and a buoyancy of spirits 
 that he had not known for months. He had 
 bounced out of bed, and a moment later 
 Mammy heard him whistling in his bath. The 
 old woman chuckled with joy and gave an 
 extra pat to the little form lying in the crib 
 she had improvised the night before. It was 
 an old trunk. She had fitted a feather pillow 
 in the tray, and there the mite had slept the 
 
 24
 
 Accepting the Mascot 25 
 
 of one who had sought and found. Was 
 the mother sleeping, too? 
 
 " You lay still, honey, an' go on sleepin while 
 Mammy knocks up some waffles for Doe 
 Andy's brefkus. We women folks mus'n do 
 nothin' ter upset the men folks. He's up two 
 hours 'fo' he usually is, but that ain't nothin' 
 to we alls. We's gonter git his brefkus ready 
 an* say nothin' 'tall. We's gonter manage him, 
 ain't we, honey? You ain't gonter cry none, 
 at leas' not at the fust beginning. You's 
 gonter be sech a good lil baby, th' ain't nobody 
 hardly gonter know you's aroun'. If you is 
 good, an' the waffles is right an* crispy, an' the 
 sun goes on a shinin', then th' ain't nothin' me'n 
 you can't 'complish." 
 
 The sun had gone on shining, the waffles were 
 as perfect as only Mammy's waffles could be, 
 and the small interloper had gone on sleeping, 
 thereby showing the innate tact that Mammy 
 had hoped she possessed the tact to manage 
 men folks. 
 
 Breakfast was cleared away, and the master 
 followed his old servant to the kitchen at her 
 invitation. She felt that she could do her man 
 aging of men folks better back in her own 
 domain where she had undisputed sway. Then, 
 too, the baby was there, still peacefully sleep-,
 
 26 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ing in the trunk tray. The top of the trunk, 
 propped up with a stick of kindling, acted as 
 a wind shield, protecting the young baby from 
 the current of fresh, cool air that came through 
 the opened window. 
 
 " I jes' histed it a minute," explained 
 Mammy. " The angel Gabrul hisse'f couldn't 
 cook waffles 'thout some smudge an' smoke." 
 
 The kitchen in the old Grant house was a 
 very pleasant place in spite of the lingering 
 smell of burning fat. Andy had always liked 
 any kitchen where Mammy ruled. Ever since 
 he could remember he had been coming to the 
 kitchen to have a chat with the faithful soul. 
 He could recall the time, in the old days in Vir 
 ginia, when Mammy had been young not 
 much older than he was on that morning in 
 March and he had sat in a high chair in the 
 kitchen and she had made him little thimble- 
 biscuit and gingerbread boys. What a good 
 creature she was! 
 
 " How is the baby, Mammy? I hope she did 
 not keep you awake." 
 
 The doctor bent over the improvised cradle 
 and peeped gingerly at the bit of downy head 
 that showed above the patchwork quilt, Mam 
 my's best log-cabin pattern, which she had 
 donated unhesitatingly to the cause.
 
 Accepting the Mascot 27 
 
 " Keep me awake ! Why, Doc Andy, she 
 is the bes' lil sleeper you ever seed, an* she 
 lap up her milk jes' lak a pig. I done foun' 
 that a baby what sleeps, eats; an' a baby what 
 eats, sleeps. You done both from the time you 
 was bawn, an' this here chil' does the same." 
 
 " I'm glad of that, Mammy. I couldn't have 
 you kept awake." 
 
 " Well, as fer that, I wouldn't make no min* 
 if n I did. Me'n you's been a-sleepin too much 
 here lately. I reckon the good Gawd done 
 sent this baby chil' here to wake us up." 
 
 " Perhaps! " There was a flush on the young 
 man's cheek. " And now, Mammy, what is the 
 understanding we are to have? " 
 
 The old woman placed a chair for her young 
 master where he could see the ray of sunlight 
 that found its way through the crack in the old 
 trunk top and fell directly on baby's fluffy 
 crown. 
 
 " Ain't she got a sweet lil shape a-lyin' there 
 under the kivers? " 
 
 The doctor gazed thoughtfully at the child's 
 form showing in a blurred outline under the 
 quilt. It was a sweet little shape from the 
 downy crown to the curve of the back and on 
 to the foot, which asserted itself in a tiny hump. 
 There was something very appealing in that
 
 
 28 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 helpless form, the lines so soft and flowing, 
 accented at certain points as though a great 
 artist had begun to draw a baby's figure and 
 with a few strokes of his charcoal had but indi 
 cated the proportions. 
 
 " Her bar is gonter be gol', shiny ' gol'," 
 declared Mammy. " I done look at it side 
 ways, an' I done look at it straight, an' which 
 ever way the light hits it, it sho do shine. 
 Her eyes is blue now, but they is lil gol' 
 flecks in 'em, an' that is a sho sign they is ter 
 turn brown. I is always 'lowed that the putties' 
 pussons of all is them what has brown eyes an' 
 goldin bar. Yo' maw was complected that way, 
 an' she was the putties' gal in the whole county. 
 They is right flirtified, they do say, but a gal 
 might be 'lowed ter flirt some." 
 
 The doctor smiled at the old woman's talk. 
 
 He felt she had something to get out of him 
 
 - what, he could not tell, but whatever it was, he 
 
 was sure she would not come to the point until 
 
 her own good time. 
 
 " You done had good luck las' night, didn't 
 you, Doc Andy? " 
 
 " In cards? Yes, good enough, but I think 
 I'll stop playing cards, Mammy." 
 
 " Praise Gawd, that's the bes' luck yit ! 
 Looks like you done had a change er luck from
 
 Accepting the Mascot 29 
 
 the minute I hearn the baby a-cryin that time 
 I kep' a-thinkin 'twar a bell a-ringing. 
 'Member?" 
 
 " Yes, I think you are right." 
 
 " An' this mornin' the gemman named Mr. 
 Carley what done move in the great house a 
 piece up here on Gyardin street done phomed 
 over fer you to come see his cook what is took 
 bad. 'Cose, I ain't thinkin' much 'bout folks 
 a-givin you the dirty wuck ter do, a callin' you 
 in fer niggers, but them folks is rich an' it 
 means they is willin ter pay. 'Tain't no cha'ity 
 call." 
 
 ' Well, then I had better be going," laughed 
 the young man. 
 
 "No, sir, don't you be in no hurry!" inter 
 posed Mammy, quickly. " I done toF Mr. 
 Carley you had yo' office hour ter keep. I 
 wa'nt a gonter let no nigger cook think you 
 didn't hab nothin' ter do but sign her sick- 
 benefit cyard." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll finish my pipe." 
 
 "What I's a-thinkin' is I b'lieve this lil 
 lamb is what oF Marse Bob useter call a 
 muscat." 
 
 " A muscat? Oh, yes, a mascot! " suggested 
 Dr. Wallace, leaning over the baby to conceal 
 his grin.
 
 so Mammy's White Folks 
 
 1 Yessir, a mascot ! Marse Bob done say 
 they bring look luck, them mascots, jes' so long 
 as they stay with you. An' now, Doc 
 Andy " and at this point the old woman 
 took on a pleading tone, and the doctor knew 
 she had at last come to the point " don't you 
 sen* this po' lil critter ter no orphamige she's 
 too sweet ter be brung up in them ol* long- 
 waisted print frocks with the slimiky skirts an' 
 pinched-in sleeves. She won't be no trouble 
 ter nobody but me, an* I ain't got a libin' thing 
 ter do, an* kin keep keer er her easy as dirt. 
 You won't sen' her away, will you, Doc Andy? " 
 
 This problem had been uppermost in Dr. 
 Wallace's mind when he dropped off to sleep 
 the night before, and it was first in his thoughts 
 when he awakened, but somehow it did not seem 
 to be a vexing problem, and he considered it 
 quite calmly. What should he do with the 
 baby? Should he report the matter to the police, 
 and have the woman tracked and made to take 
 care of her own offspring, that is, if she 
 were still alive? Or should he keep the little 
 thing and, with Mammy's help, try to raise it? 
 
 The thought of giving the child up to the 
 police, to be cared for either by the mother, who 
 evidently had found the job too much for her 
 even in less than two short weeks, or to be sent
 
 Accepting the Mascot 31 
 
 to an institution, caused Wallace to have a queer 
 choky feeling in his throat. From the moment 
 that Mammy had unrolled the old blue-serge 
 jacket and the piece of blanket, and he had 
 looked down on the little helpless bit of pink 
 humanity, he had experienced a certain sense of 
 ownership. Stanley's rude suggestion that he, 
 Wallace, was perhaps the father of the child, had 
 not made him angry. He almost wished he 
 could have been her father. 
 
 He looked at Mammy as she stood before 
 him, her wrinkled hands trembling as she held 
 them out in appeal, and her good old brown 
 face working with emotion, and the question 
 was settled. 
 
 " We'll keep the kid, Mammy, if it won't be 
 too hard on you." 
 
 " Oh, Andy, my Andy boy ! I knowed you 
 would say it ! " but the fact that she sat down 
 on a kitchen chair and covered her face with 
 her apron showed that she had not known it 
 at all. She had spent a night of terrible sus 
 pense, fearing that her precious charge would 
 be taken away from her in the morning. The 
 old woman soon recovered her composure, and 
 once more proceeded with her onslaught. 
 
 " Now, Doc Andy, while we is on the subjic, 
 I thinks we mought jes' as well finish it up."
 
 32 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ' It seems settled to me. What more is there 
 to say? We'll keep the baby and do our best 
 by it," declared the doctor, knocking the ashes 
 out of his pipe preparatory to making his pro 
 fessional call on the rich neighbor's cook. 
 
 " But is we gonter do our bes'? That's what 
 is a-worryin me. Is jes' gibin' a chiT a home 
 an' a-lovin it the bes* we kin do? " 
 
 ' What more can we do, Mammy?" 
 
 " If'n this here lil gal starts ter school an' the 
 chilluns fin' out she ain't nothin' but a foumlin', 
 what they gonter call her? Ain't iliey gonter 
 be somebody ter hurt her blessed lil feelin's an' 
 break her po' lil heart at ev'y turn? An' if'n 
 she grows up an' gits a beau lover, ain't it 
 gonter be hard wif her to have ter 'fess she ain't 
 got no paw an' ain't never knowed her maw." 
 
 ' That's so, Mammy, but I don't see what we 
 can do about that. It isn't our fault that things 
 are as they are." 
 
 " No, sir! 'Tain't our fault things is as they 
 is, but it's gwine ter be our fault if we lets 'em 
 stay as they am. We got ter do a lil lyin', but 
 if Gawd don't fergib us, he ain't what I takes 
 him ter be. If'n we starts out wif a good lie 
 an' sticks to it, it'll come easier an' easier ter us." 
 
 The doctor looked mystified. Mammy, the 
 soul of honor, deliberately planning a lie!
 
 Accepting the Mascot 33 
 
 " Well, Mammy, what tangled web are we 
 going to weave?" 
 
 " We's a gonter manufacture a maw an' paw 
 fer this here lamb. We's gonter make her come 
 in ter this here worl' lak white folks ought ter 
 come. It don't make so much diffunce 'bout 
 niggers. Looks lak folks don't look down on 
 them none fer being onreglar. I reckon they 
 think it's good enough fer them, but you know, 
 Doc Andy, how it marks a white chiT not ter 
 have reg'lar parients." 
 
 "Well, but " 
 
 ' What 's the reason you couldn't perten' lak 
 you was her paw, an' her maw was yo' wedded 
 wife what died when the lil baby was bawn? 
 Folks don't know you much roun* here, and 
 them what does wouldn't put nothin* on you. 
 'Tain't so likely fer men folks to be claimin' 
 wives what they ain't nebber had, an' nobody 
 wouldn't 'spicion nothin'. 'Tain't lak you was 
 a po' woman. She would have ter show her 
 stiffgate an' her ring, an' then some ol' scan'le 
 talker would come a-rakin up sompen on her 
 an' prove her husban' had a wedded wife in 
 some other town even if she done made up the 
 husban' an' there wa'n't no sich a pusson." 
 
 Mammy paused for breath. The doctor 
 looked at her in amazement. (Could the old 
 woman be crazy?
 
 34 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " It wouldn't put no mo' 'sponsibility on you 
 than you is already 'sumin'. A dead wife what 
 ain't nebber libed ain't no trouble 'tall. You 
 ain't eben got ter buy her a stroud an' bury her. 
 I knows you is scairt er female women an' ain't 
 got no idea er marryin' one er them what is 
 sho nuf -one made out er meat an' bones - 
 but this here wife what I'm perposin' ter you 
 don't mean nothin', nothin' mo'n jes' a per- 
 tection ter this po' lil foumlin' what the good 
 Gawd done see fit ter sen' us." 
 
 " But suppose the real mother should turn 
 up and even the real father what then?" 
 
 " That po' critter ain't gonter turn up, an' as 
 fer the father low flung debbil he's not 
 likely ter be hangin' roun' waitin' fer trouble." 
 
 ' Well, Mammy, I shall have to think about 
 it. I can't be a married man and a widower 
 with a family without giving it some thought. 
 I don't like to pretend to be something I am 
 not." 
 
 " I'll do all the pertendin' ! All you'll have ter 
 do will be jes' keep on being solemncholy, jes' 
 lak you is when women folks is rouri' anyhow, 
 an' I'll do all the lyin'. I'll gib out you is too 
 hard hit ter mention yo' trouble. I'd kinder lak 
 fer you ter let me sew a black ban' roun' yo' coat 
 sleeve "
 
 Accepting the Mascot 35 
 
 " Never! " indignantly. 
 
 " Nebber min' ! Nebber min' ! " was the old 
 woman's quick and tactful rejoinder. " Lot's 
 er widder men don't hold ter the wearin' of 
 mournin', an' you is a quiet dresser at bes' - 
 not lak that flashly Mr. Stanley what looks 
 lak he's scairt folks won't be able ter see him 
 comin' a mile off." 
 
 " Stanley! That reminds me. What are 
 you going to say to Mr. Stanley and Mr. Peter 
 Roche if I decide to be a sorrowing widower? " 
 
 " Tell Mr. Peter the truf he's the kin' ter 
 keep his mouf shet; an' as fer that there Stan 
 ley he's gone fer good. Mr. Peter done 
 in'mated ter him he was a cheater, an' he done 
 gone off 'thout settlin' up. I reckon he owes 
 you money 'sides," she said shrewdly. " Ain't 
 that the truf?" 
 
 ' Well a yes, so he does." 
 
 " He done flew de coop sho's you's bawn. 
 Now, Doc Andy, you jes' glance over the news 
 paper an' then maybe you'd bes' step lively over 
 ter that new house an' see the cook. She 
 mought die 'fo' you gits thar an' you wouldn't 
 git no fee. We got ter git ter wuck an' git 
 some money ter git some goods ter make up 
 some slips fer our baby." 
 
 Andy smiled and took the morning paper
 
 36 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 which she handed him. He was glad he was 
 to keep the baby, glad the sun was shining and 
 that he felt so clear headed and alert, glad that 
 after so many months he was to have a pay 
 patient. The call might lead to others. A kind 
 of elation filled his soul. He felt awake and 
 full of hope. What was it? Where was the 
 sodden helplessness that had permeated his 
 being of late? Was this a hum-drum day like 
 all the yesterdays and the days before those 
 yesterdays? No! A thousand times no! He 
 did not feel at all like the bereaved young 
 widower that Mammy would have him be; 
 instead, he thought perhaps he might look like 
 some of the insanely-happy, newly-made fathers 
 whom he had seen on his professional visits. 
 
 The baby stirred and gave vent to a little 
 whimper. Mammy immediately took it up 
 and began to fondle it. 
 
 "Don' you cry, my candy pie! Don' you 
 cry 'til yo' daddy takes hisse'f off." 
 
 The doctor smiled and read the paper. 
 
 " Listen, Mammy, some poor girl has drowned 
 herself in the river right down at the foot 
 of this street by the bridge young and 
 pretty no clue to her identity. Evidently a 
 stranger." He read the account of the suicide. 
 
 The baby began to yell lustily.
 
 Accepting the Mascot 37 
 
 " Go on an' cry yo' fill, po' lil lamb ! I 
 reckon it war yo maw, 'caze this here street 
 am the closes' to the riber, an' yo's is the onlies' 
 tears what is bein' shed an' I ain't a gonter stop 
 'em. Po' critter! Po' critter! Did the readin' 
 say she had long goldin hair, Doc Andy? " 
 
 " No, it doesn't say." 
 
 I reckon it war wet an' they couldn't tell, 
 but I'll be boun' it war long an' goldin an' she 
 had a trustin' heart." 
 
 She rocked the baby and began to sing: 
 
 "Bye Baby Buntin'! 
 Daddy's gone a huntin' 
 Ter git a little rabbit skin 
 Ter wrop the Baby Buntin' in." 
 
 :c Well, good-bye, Mammy ! I'll go and 
 make enough to buy the baby a petticoat if 
 the cook of the rich man has not passed me 
 up. In the meantime, please don't tell anybody 
 I'm a widower and a father until I talk the 
 matter over with Mr. Peter Roche."
 
 Chapter 3 
 WARM WATER AND MUSTARD 
 
 It was a pleasant sensation to be making a 
 call not a charity one even though it was 
 only a sick cook. No doubt the Carleys had 
 their own family physician who perhaps was 
 too busy or too superior to indulge in colored 
 practice. Andrew Wallace was neither busy 
 nor superior. The color of a person who was 
 sick and needed his care made no difference to 
 him. The fact that he could administer to his 
 or her welfare was the only thing that mattered 
 to the young physician. 
 
 As he hurried along Garden Street, where he 
 had chosen to cast his lot, he looked with some 
 degree of interest at his neighbors' houses for 
 the first time since he had hung out his shingle. 
 He now viewed them as the abodes of possible 
 future patients not merely as the habitations 
 of neighbors who were to be avoided as persons 
 who might look askance at his manner of life. 
 He had feared they might do worse than look 
 askance. They might pester him with invitations 
 to come to supper and expect him to be pleas- 
 
 38
 
 Warm Water and Mustard 39 
 
 ant to their daughters. That he could not and 
 would not do! 
 
 The thought came to him as he hurried to the 
 relief of the Carleys' suffering domestic that 
 now that he was about to become, or had 
 become, a father, his child would feel the need 
 of neighbors. He would have to be more 
 friendly for the sake of the infant. 
 
 " I reckon I could do that much for the poor 
 little kid," he muttered as he turned in at the 
 Carleys' gate. 
 
 The Carleys' house was everything the old 
 Grant house was not, and nothing that it was. 
 From every pore of the red pressed brick of 
 the former mansion, there breathed prosperity 
 and down-to-dateness. It seemed to be as 
 determined to be seen as the old Grant house 
 seemed desirous to melt into its surroundings. 
 Every window and door, every angle of the 
 new house, was accentuated by the gleaming 
 white stone, and the roof of the would-be Colonial 
 porch was supported by pillars of an enamelled 
 whiteness that dazzled the eyes of the beholder. 
 
 " God forbid that I should ever become this 
 prosperous!" breathed Dr. Wallace as he made 
 his way along the uncompromising concrete 
 walk, up the palatial steps and touched the 
 electric button at the great front door.
 
 40 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Immediately the door was opened by a pleas 
 ant-looking-, pink-faced gentleman in a tight 
 grey suit, with a checked apron tied around his 
 waist. He had a rose in his button-hole which 
 struck the predominant rote of his ruddy counte 
 nance. 
 
 "Dr. Wallace! Carley's my name I Glad to 
 see you, Doctor! Glad to see you!" he jerked 
 out. " Cook 's awful bad so bad that I'm 
 afraid we'll have to advertise again. Such a 
 time as we do have with servants! This one is 
 pretty good, and has . been with us all of a 
 month! I surely do hate to think of losing 
 her." 
 
 " Perhaps we can save her," suggested Dr. 
 Wallace, trying to hide his amusement. 
 
 ' Well, come right up and see," said the poor 
 man. :< I got my own breakfast this morning, 
 and now am trying to fry an egg for my wife. 
 She has been ailing, too, and so has our little 
 girl, Marian." 
 
 Wallace's instinct was to ask with interest 
 about the manner of ailment that had attacked 
 the wife and child, but remembering that he 
 had been called in only to see the cook, he 
 refrained. 
 
 " I try to keep three servants," the gentle 
 man of the house continued volubly as they
 
 mounted the back stairs leading to the servants' 
 quarters, " but I can't keep even one." 
 
 A groan was the only response when they 
 knocked on the door. The doctor entered with 
 out further ceremony. The room was in total 
 darkness. The shades were drawn, blinds 
 tightly closed, and where a crack of spring sun 
 light had tried to find its way into the room, 
 the groaning creature had hung up a strip of 
 carpet. 
 
 The atmosphere was so thick and heavy that to 
 call it air was a misnomer. Without a word 
 Dr. Wallace raised the shades and opened the 
 windows and the blinds. The breeze came in 
 with such a rush that for a moment the cook 
 stopped groaning and sat up in bed. 
 
 l< Whe'fo' you done that? I's too sick fer 
 sich doin's. Shet them thar winders ! " 
 
 "That's all right, cook! I'm not going to 
 kill you with air, but some ventilation is neces 
 sary. Now tell me what your trouble is but 
 first tell me your name." 
 
 The woman, who was a mountain of flesh, 
 looked at the doctor suspiciously for a moment, 
 but encountering his pleasant kindly eyes she 
 heaved a great sigh and sank back on her tick 
 ing pillows, which boasted no slips. 
 
 " My name am Pearly. I's got a misery all
 
 42 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 over eve'ywhar but my haid an' my laigs 
 an* my back." 
 
 " Do your arms hurt, Pearly? " 
 
 " No, sir ! Thank Gawd my arms ain't 
 a-hurtin I " 
 
 "Um-hum! Just where is the pain? Put 
 your hand on the spot." In an aside to Mr. 
 Carley, he whispered: " Sometimes we have to 
 diagnose by elimination." 
 
 " De seat ob my misery am here," groaned 
 the poor black Pearly, and she put her hand 
 n the apex of the hemisphere. 
 
 "And what have you eaten for breakfast?" 
 
 " I ain't et no brefkus. I been a-wallowin 
 in torment sence 'fo' day." 
 
 :< Too bad ! Now, what did you eat for 
 supper." 
 
 " I et some crabs." 
 
 " Did you drink much water with the crabs? " 
 
 " I never drunked no water a tall. I 
 squinched my thu'st wif buttermilk. I ain't 
 never been no hearty eater but I is sho' fond 
 er buttermilk." 
 
 Dr. Wallace, in after years, often laughed 
 ever the fact that his practice was built on gal 
 lons of warm water with a generous sprinkling 
 f mustard. 
 
 Pearly's groans ceased. In their place came
 
 Warm Water and Mustard 43 
 
 gentle snores. The doctor tip-toed from the 
 room and crept softly down the back stairs. As 
 he sought his hat in the front hall he heard a 
 lazy voice issuing from the library: 
 
 " Since there is not much the matter with the 
 baby and me, why not just have this young 
 doctor for us, too? It would be so much less 
 trouble than 'phoning for that other doctor. 
 Of course, if we were very sick we couldn't 
 trust him, but I am sure there is nothing serious 
 the matter with us. You say he understands 
 what is the matter with Pearly." 
 
 "Just as you say, my dear! Of course, I 
 would do the 'phoning and it wouldn't be any 
 trouble for you," came in Mr. Carley's brisk 
 tones. 
 
 "Well, call him in!" 
 
 Dr. Wallace gladly would have escaped, but 
 before he could reach his hat the energetic Mr. 
 Carley had captured him. 
 
 One would hardly think that a turning point 
 in the career of a young doctor would come 
 about through the fact that a rosy gentleman 
 in a gingham apron pounced on him and com 
 pelled him to come and meet his wife and child 
 and cure their far from serious ailments. But 
 turning point it proved in the career of Dr. 
 Wallace.
 
 44 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 News soon went forth that the richest persons 
 on the street were employing the young physi 
 cian, and in short order, others began to realize 
 his worth. Pearly was loud in her praises of 
 the young man, and Mrs. Carley declared he 
 understood her constitution better than any 
 doctor she ever had had. His fame as a chil 
 dren's doctor was spread abroad because of his 
 success with little Marian. Starting as a poor 
 young man with no practice, he soon found 
 himself with all he could attend to. 
 
 Mr. Carley was the possessor of a large for 
 tune made in a few years from the phenomenal 
 sale of a lotion for straightening lanky hair. 
 He was a kindly, energetic person whose one 
 aim in life, now that he had a fortune, was to 
 spoil his wife by giving her everything she 
 wanted. But what she wanted principally was 
 to be waited on, and servants refused to stay 
 with her for any length of time this in spite of 
 the fact that Mr. Carley, because of his lotion, 
 posed as a benefactor to the African race.
 
 Chapter 4 
 THE WILY GODMOTHER 
 
 Big, kindly, silent Peter Roche saw no reason 
 why his friend should not conform to Mammy's 
 plans if he chose. 
 
 " An imaginary dead wife is the only kind 
 you'll ever have, and if it will help out the 
 poor little kid any, why not be a sorrowing 
 young widower? You know I'll be mum for 
 life." 
 
 " Of course I can depend on you, but how 
 about Stanley?" 
 
 " Gone I Gone for good and all ! Already 
 collectors are trying to locate him. You are 
 not the only man he owed. I've always had my 
 doubts about Stanley, and I was almost sure 
 he stacked the cards on us in that last game. 
 If it had not been for a strange run of luck that 
 had come to you, he would have won that big 
 pot and gone off with more of your money." 
 
 " Mammy says the baby is a mascot ' mus 
 cat ' she calls it and my luck changed from 
 the minute she was placed on my doorstep. You 
 remember the song from the opera: 
 
 45
 
 46 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 * These messengers that Heaven doth send 
 Are known as mascots, my good friend. 
 Thrice happy he unto whose home 
 These kindly hearth-sprites come.' 
 
 And do you know, Peter, it looks as though 
 there might be something in the old woman's 
 fancy. Business is certainly picking up, and it 
 isn't charity business either." 
 
 Business was picking up. Neighbors and 
 near-neighbors suddenly seemed to realize that 
 a doctor, a very good doctor, was in the old 
 Grant house. Gradually it leaked out that he 
 was a widower. This bit of information spread 
 through Mammy. Andrew Wallace was never 
 known to mention his dead wife, and if some 
 over-zealous sympathizer would try to question 
 him concerning her, he would simply freeze up. 
 
 " He loved her so he can't talk about her," 
 would be the verdict. He was much more 
 inclined to expand when the baby was the topic 
 of conversation. 
 
 Mammy lived up to her theory of settling on 
 a good lie and sticking to it. She decided that 
 her master's dead wife was named Elizabeth 
 Smith, that she had died in New York where 
 she was born. She had been with her mother, 
 and expected to join her husband after the
 
 The Wily Godmother 47 
 
 birth of the baby. She had died in child birth, 
 and her mother had died soon afterwards of a 
 broken heart. She had no other relations. Her 
 master was so deeply attached to his young wife 
 that he could not hear her name mentioned 
 without pain. 
 
 The old woman told the tale so often that she 
 almost began to believe it, and she never varied 
 in her narrative. 
 
 " Looks lak I kin 'member what didn't hap 
 pen better'n I kin what did," she would say 
 to herself. 
 
 To make the deceit she was practicing irre 
 vocable and thorough, she wrote a letter to her 
 cousin who still lived near the Wallaces' old 
 home in Virginia, mentioning quite casually the 
 death of Andy's wife and the fact that she was 
 raising the baby. 
 
 ' What if Doc Andy ain't got no kin folks 
 lef ' to mention, you can't never tell when some 
 body what knowed you onct is gonter tu'n up. 
 I ain't a gonter have 'em a walkin' in on us 
 not knowin' nothin' 'bout my baby lamb. My 
 cousin Liza Ann is the talkin'es' 'oman I ever 
 seed, an* when she ain't a-sewin roun', she's a 
 mid-wifin' roun', an' if you tell her a piece ci 
 ne ws, it spreads lak grease on a hot skillet," 
 she muttered as she penned the epistle.
 
 48 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 When Mammy wrote a letter, it was a serious 
 matter, especially when she did not have the 
 assistance of her master in " backin' the Velope." 
 She was sure that Andy would object quite 
 seriously to this move on her part, but she was 
 determined, while she was lying, to lie as well 
 as the devil himself* 
 
 " I been a tellin' the truf all my life, an' now 
 I'm a-gotter lie an' make it soun' lak the truf. 
 I knows how the truf ought ter soun'. I'm 
 a-doin' it all fer my baby, an' the good Gawd 
 ain't a-gonter hoi' it aginst me." 
 
 So casually did she mention the death of Mrs. 
 Andrew Wallace to Liza Ann that the neigh 
 borhood newsmonger was entirely taken in. 
 The fact that she had not heard of Dr. Wal 
 lace's marriage was immediately forgotten as 
 she went on her rounds rapidly spreading the 
 news of the motherless baby. 
 
 The bereaved husband was at a loss whether 
 to laugh or swear when he received several let 
 ters of condolence from some of his father's old 
 friends and neighbors. 
 
 " I wish you had thought of some other 
 way, Mammy," he said. A package had come 
 from an old lady who had known his mother. 
 In it were knitted socks and a sacque for the 
 baby.
 
 The Wily Godmother 49 
 
 Other gifts came, from old friends and 
 neighbors rattles, afghans and caps. It 
 looked as though the people of his county felt 
 that they had inadvertently neglected his wife 
 while she was alive and were trying to make 
 up for it now by showering gifts on her baby. 
 
 An invitation came to bring his baby back 
 home on & visit. 
 
 "Just look at this, Mammy! I feel like a 
 fool." 
 
 " Well, I feel lak I done larned how ter tell 
 a moughty straight lie. Some day you kin 
 take the baby an' me on a trip home. I'd be 
 pow'ful glad ter git back fer a spell, an' the 
 folks in our county would be moughty nice ter 
 our hi baby lamb." 
 
 " Mammy, there is no shame in you." 
 
 " Shame! No, I's as proud as a peacock, 
 an' ev'ything is a turnin' out ter suit me." 
 She didn't tell Dr. Wallace that she had writ 
 ten another letter to Liza Ann telling her that 
 the baby resembled her mother in that she had 
 brown eyes and golden hair. 
 
 The brown in the baby's eyes had begun to 
 assert itself more and more, and to Mammy's 
 delight the almost imperceptible fuzziness on 
 the round little head was turning into red-gold 
 duck tails.
 
 50 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "What I tell yer? Ain't she the putties' 
 angel outer heaben? " 
 
 A name must be found for the baby, but 
 what name would be appropriate? Dr. Wal 
 lace and Mammy called in Peter to advise with 
 them. 
 
 " We don't want no common name lak Jane 
 an' Susan an' sich. This here ain't no common 
 baby if she do sleep in a trunk tray. Uncom 
 mon folks is slep' in worse than that 'fo' this." 
 
 " How about Theodora? " suggested Peter, 
 who was poring over the appendix in the big 
 dictionary trying to find something to suit 
 Mammy's fancy. " It means the gift of God." 
 
 " That's too mouf-fillin', an' ifn we cut it 
 short, we'll be a callin' the lamb Dora, an' that 
 soun's too nigrified to my min'. Ain't they 
 some kinder name what means good luck? I 
 been always a favorin' the name er Grace 
 somehow, but it sho is hard on a gal ter name 
 her Grace an* then whin she grows up fer her 
 ter tu'n out ter be fat." 
 
 " Esther means a star and also happiness," 
 Peter read from the dictionary. 
 
 " Esther is a beautiful name, I think," put 
 in the foster father. 
 
 * Yes, an* it war the name of yo' maw's 
 aunt what died jes' 'fo' she war to be married. I
 
 The Wily Godmother 51 
 
 kin jes' 'member her. She war sho some putty 
 lady. Le's name her Esther, Doc Andy!" 
 
 So Esther it was. Peter was asked to be 
 godfather, and for. Wallace insisted that 
 Mammy should stand as godmother. The 
 baby was christened in due form, and then 
 Mammy was sure that the good Lord was 
 approving of her deceit since He, in a meas 
 ure, had connived at it. At least He had per 
 mitted his representative, the young minister, 
 to make the sign of the cross on Esther's 
 forehead, and when the water was sprinkled 
 on her head, she had laughed instead of crying, 
 which is a baby's usual method of being received 
 into the church. Mammy took this as just one 
 more good omen for her charge, and when, 
 added to that, the sun came out at the crucial 
 moment, peeping through the stained glass 
 window of the church and pouring all the 
 colors of the rainbow on the little form of the 
 unconscious sinner, who through Peter and 
 Mammy had just renounced the World, the 
 Flesh and the Devil, Mammy was sure that 
 not only was the baby's soul saved but also her 
 own. 
 
 On the strength of her certain salvation she 
 indited another epistle to her cousin, Liza Ann, 
 announcing that the baby had been christened
 
 52 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Esther and calling to mind the beauty and 
 charm of Andy's great-aunt Esther, who had 
 died on the eve of her wedding. She did not 
 say in so many words that the baby was named for 
 the great-aunt, but Liza Ann was left to draw 
 her own conclusions, which she did to the entire 
 satisfaction of the wily godmother, and Mammy 
 felt that it had not been in vain that she had 
 spent those weary, head-splitting, back-breaking 
 hours with Ol' Miss trying to learn how to read 
 and write. 
 
 " I's a po' reader an' a wuss writer, but 
 Gawd be praised, I larned enough whin I was 
 a gal ter spread this here lie an' 'stablish some 
 kind er fambly 'lations fer my baby. She 
 got a pedlegree back yonder in Virginia, thanks 
 ter her ol' Mammy."
 
 Chapter 5 
 MAMMY GETS A SURPRISE 
 
 Mammy had not had the care of a child 
 since Andrew Wallace was a baby, but her 
 hand had lost none of its cunning. It was 
 a wonderful sight when she bathed and cared 
 for little Esther. Her old hands seemed to 
 be as soft as velvet, and the skill with which 
 she took off and put on baby clothes was 
 marvelous. Dr. Wallace never tired of watch 
 ing her. 
 
 The sacred rite of bathing the baby was 
 performed every morning in the kitchen, and 
 the old woman would have been much offended 
 if he were absent. But the young man did not 
 choose to be absent. Had Mammy's wild tale of 
 his dead wife, Elizabeth, been gospel truth, 
 and had the baby been really his own, he could 
 not have loved her more. No father could 
 have watched the daily improvement in his 
 child with more interest and concern than did 
 Dr. Wallace in this little foundling. How 
 beautifully formed she was! How strong and 
 straight were the little limbs and back! How 
 
 53
 
 54 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 she thrived and fattened! Great was their joy 
 when creases were discovered around the plump 
 wrists and ankles, and Venus rings appeared 
 around the neck! The old woman and the 
 young man watched for dimples as astronomers 
 might search the heavens for new stars, and 
 dimples were always appearing, now one on the 
 left elbow, now a pair on the shoulder blades. 
 
 " She's the putties' gal baby I's ever seed," 
 Mammy declared. ' 'Cose, I's allus been par- 
 tiam ter boy babies, an' if I do say it as 
 shouldn't, bein' as I's yo' black mammy, you 
 was the fattes', elites', sweetes' baby ever bawn. 
 Dimples! Lawd love us, Doc Andy, but you 
 was peppered as thick wif 'em as a mock- 
 orange." 
 
 " Spare me, Mammy! Spare my blushes! 
 Isn't this the day to weigh her? " 
 
 " Sho it is! " and then they solemnly got out 
 the sugar scale, which Mammy said was the 
 only kind to weigh such a lump of sweetness 
 on. And when the gain was considerably over 
 the previous week, their joy knew no bounds. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning in June. The 
 bath was over, the paraphernalia incident to 
 the rite picked up and put away, the doctor 
 out on his rounds, and the baby fed and peace 
 fully sleeping on the shady back porch.
 
 Mammy Gets a Surprise 55 
 
 " Now, old woman, you'd bes' be shakin' 
 yo'se'f," said Mammy. Mammy had a way 
 of talking to herself when she was alone. 
 Sometimes she would hold such animated con 
 versations that one would have sworn she had 
 company. Andrew Wallace often amused him 
 self listening to her as her voice came from 
 another room. She would employ two distinct 
 tones of voice, one a high querulous one, and 
 the other her own natural, soft, deep drawl. 
 
 " Shake yo'se'f, shake yo'se'f ! " came the 
 querulous note. 
 
 " Ain't I been a stirrin' sence 'fo' day? " 
 
 ' Yes, but you ain't done nothin' nothin* 
 so's you kin notice it, but jes' a playin' wif 
 that there doll baby. Look at the winders in 
 Doc lAndy's office! Look at 'em, I say! You 
 cyarn't look thu 'em fer the dirt. Look at the 
 silber! Looks lak pewter fer the need er a lil 
 rubbin'. Look at that ther pile er darnin'! 
 Holes so big Doc Andy won't know which 
 er way ter put on his socks. Hump yo'se'f, 
 nigger! Hump yo'se'f!" 
 
 " Well, I'm a movin' fast as I kin," answered 
 the complaining voice. ;< Th'ain't but one er 
 me. There's that phome a ringin' 1 " 
 
 Mammy had never been able to distinguish 
 the x bells in the house. Usually she gave the
 
 56 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 telephone the benefit of the doubt and tried 
 that first. She would take down the receiver 
 and then, in dead silence, sit like one who was 
 receiving an electric shock. Finally she would 
 mutter a faint: 
 
 <5 Lo!" in a whisper. Her tone was so 
 indescribably mournful that the one at the 
 other end of the wire, if there happened to be 
 one left after the long silence, would feel that 
 something sinister and terrible must have hap 
 pened at Dr. Wallace's. Peter Roche, who 
 sometimes had occasion to telephone his friend, 
 used to say that it reminded him of fishing for 
 catfish. You would feel a nibble, wait 
 patiently, feel another, and, encouraged, pull 
 in, to find nothing on the end of your line. 
 
 " Lo ! " Mammy repeated. " I ? \'t a- 
 wantin* no number I's a answerin' **' - Q phome 
 you done ranged me up I'll -jouse you 
 this time, but I's pow'ful busy ter be a answerin' 
 phonies jes' fer fun." She put up the receiver 
 with a jerk. 
 
 " I wisht there wa'n't no sich a thing as 
 phonies!" declared the whiny voice. 
 
 "How you gonter git the doctor in a hurry 
 'thout no phome? " 
 
 " Sen' a nigger on a mule, lak OF Miss an' 
 her mother befo' her done. Gib the callerinile
 
 Mammy Gets a Surprise 57 
 
 in the fus' beginning no use in a-waitin' fer 
 the doctor an' then sen* a nigger on a mule." 
 
 Again a bell, this time quite loud and angry 
 in its jingling! Mammy took down the receiver 
 with resignation. 
 
 "Lo!" in her cat-fish nibbling manner. 
 
 " What number? " briskly from central. 
 
 "Great Gawd! It mus* er been the front 
 do' ! " She dropped the receiver and hastened 
 to the front of the house. No one at the front 
 but a brisk knocking at the back door. 
 
 ' You ol* fool nigger ! " she cried, going to 
 the kitchen door which stood hospitably open. 
 
 On the back porch was a young woman hold 
 ing a little girl by the hand. 
 
 " I rang the door bell repeatedly." The 
 tone was a little sharp. 
 
 ' You mus' 'scuse me, lady, but I gits so 
 imfused over bells. I cyarn't fer the life er 
 me tell whicht is whicht. I thought you was 
 the phome. Won't you come in an' set a 
 spell? Doc Andy, I mean Doc Wallace, is 
 jes' stepped out ter see the sick an' sufferin', 
 but he'll be back 'fo' so long." 
 
 Mammy thought the young woman and her 
 child were patients, and she was determined not 
 to let them escape the doctor. To be sure, 
 they might be charity patients, and she was
 
 58 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 not encouraging that class too much, as she 
 felt her master was inclined to do for them 
 and neglect the more profitable kind. The 
 mother had rather too much dignity in her 
 bearing to be seeking charity, and both mother 
 and child were well, although simply, dressed. 
 ' You kin go in the office an' set, or you 
 kin jes* res' yo'se'f out here on the po'ch. I 
 ain't ter say spruced up the office yit 'cause 
 I'se been so took up wif the baby." 
 ' We can wait here just as well." 
 
 Mammy hastily got a chair for the mother 
 and put a stool for the little girl. 
 
 " Moughty putty lil chil' ! How ol' is you, 
 honey? " 
 
 " Free ! " The child spoke in a singularly 
 independent, dignified way in spite of her baby 
 talk. 
 
 ' Well, you is moughty smart fer yo' age. 
 My baby, sleepin' in de buggy yonder, ain't but 
 free months old. She is smart, too." Mammy 
 was longing to show off the baby, but the visi 
 tor expressed no interest at all in the little 
 thing. Her manner was preoccupied, and even 
 praise of her own child did not draw a smile 
 from her. 
 
 ' When will Dr. Wallace return? " she asked, 
 coldly.
 
 Mammy Gets a Surprise 59 
 
 <k I ain't ter say sho that he'll be back fer 
 some time. They's a heap er sickness jes' 
 now, an' looks lak folks is plum determined 
 ter hab Doc Andy," said Mammy, proudly. 
 " Is you a-wantin' ter see Doc Andy per- 
 feshumly? Whicht er yo' is ailin'?" 
 
 " Neither. I merely want to see him on 
 business." 
 
 ' Well, then, lady, I reckon you'd bes' come 
 back, 'cause he ain't li'ble ter be home 'fo' 
 dinner." Mammy's interest in the visitor was 
 waning. 
 
 4 Why didn't you tell me so sooner? " The 
 tone was certainly sharp. Mammy looked at 
 her in surprise. She was a very pretty young 
 woman to have such a cold, hard voice. 
 
 " I ain't never held out no hopes he would 
 be in soon." 
 
 The woman arose to go but seemed to be 
 undecided. She seated herself again, and in 
 a more friendly voice said: 
 
 ' You have been with Dr. Wallace for some 
 time, auntie? " 
 
 " Eber sence he wa' bawn, 'ceptin, er co'se, 
 whin he wa' off ter college an' studyin' in 
 hospitals." 
 
 " Oh, then, perhaps you can tell me of some 
 of his friends. Have you ever happened to
 
 60 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 see a Mr. Stanley when he has caBed here?" 
 " Stanley ! Lawd love you, lady, I should 
 say I is! Why he jes' lef here 'bout free 
 months ago. I reckon he ain't a oeber gonter 
 come back neither, 'cause he went off in sech 
 a hurry a owin' money ter Doc Andy money 
 what he done borrowed 'sides money what he 
 done los' at cyards. We alls don't know whar 
 he. Mr. Peter, he say he gone fer good. An' 
 I hope it's so. That Stanley wa' a bad man ! " 
 " Don't you dare to say that about my 
 farverl " The little girl stood before Mammy 
 with blazing eyes. " You are a bad old nigger 
 and I hate you 1 " 
 
 ' Yo' father! Lawd 'a mussy, lady, I didn't 
 know you wa' Mr. Stanley's wife whin I spoke 
 up so. You mus' 'sense me, lady, an* you, 
 you po' lil chiT, we ain't none of us knowed 
 he wa' eben married. He ain't nebber said 
 so. I done heard him but nebber min' what 
 I done heard I is a fool ol' nigger an' I is 
 a bad ol' nigger. I wisht you would come in 
 an* wait ter see Doc Andy. Maybe you would 
 take a bite ter eat or a cup er tea er sompen. 
 Gawd knows, lady, I wouldn't er said nothin' 
 ter hurt you or yo' lil chil' fer nothin' on 
 Gawd's green yearth. Now, won't you come 
 in an' res' yo'se'f a spell?"
 
 f 
 Mammy Gets a Surprise 61 
 
 "No, I must go. Come, Lucy!'* 
 
 The voice was not quite so hard now but 
 it was decidedly weary. 
 
 " Jes* a mug 1 er milk f er yo' lil chil' ! Don't 
 you want some milk, honey? Mammy didn't 
 mean ter hurt yo' feelin's, an' she thinks you 
 is a fine lil baby ter be a standin' up fer yo' 
 paw the way r ou done." 
 
 The old won-an's voice was so appealing and 
 her manner so conciliatory that Lucy was pre 
 vailed upon to drink the milk, but the mother 
 would not wait for a cup of tea. Without a 
 word of thanks to poor Mammy, who was in 
 abject misery over having hurt their feelings, 
 the visitors departed. 
 
 " Ain't eben said ' peep turkey ' 'bout my 
 baby, neither," she grumbled. 
 
 ' Wlie'fo' they gonter say ' peep turkey ' ter 
 you arfter you done 'suited um? " 
 
 "Th'ain't said nothin' 'fo' I 'suited um. 
 They had plenty er chanct ter notice lil Esther 
 'fo' I done rip out 'bout that there Stanley. 
 He is sho a bad aig, but his wife ain't got the 
 innards ter be a bad aig. I reckon we done 
 see the las' er her too. I hope so! Doc Andy 
 is got all he kin do ter make a libin fer us all 
 'thout lendin' any mo money ter these here 
 Stanleys."
 
 Chapter 6 
 JUSTIFYING A LIE 
 
 " Tell me something more about my mother, 
 Mammy. Tell me everything all over all 
 about her long golden hair and her blue, blue 
 eyes how she walked and how she talked and 
 how she laughed. I just know she laughed like 
 music, didn't she, Mammy? " 
 
 " Yes, child, she larfed an' it soun' lak lil 
 streams er water a-running over pebbles." 
 
 " And her hair, was it very, very long? " 
 
 * Yes, honey, so long she could set on it, an' 
 it waved from the roots clean down ter the en's. 
 It wa' gol', pure gol', an' the ripples in it useter 
 'min' me or the win' a-blowin over ripe wheat." 
 
 '* Was it as long as RapunzeFs? " 
 
 "Who dat?" 
 
 " Now, Mammy, you remember the girl in 
 the fairy story I read you the other day who 
 let down her hair so her lover could hang on to 
 it and climb in the window." 
 
 " Oh, that there gal what wa' named some 
 kinder Dutch name what meant turnip salad! 
 I 'member her well enough." 
 
 62
 
 Justifying a Lie 63 
 
 " She must have loved him a whole lot, 
 Mammy more than tongue can tell to let 
 him hurt her so bad. I know it hurt because 
 I let my kitty climb up my plait once just to 
 see how it felt, and it pulled until I had to cry. 
 Of course a lover would be heavier than a kitten 
 and he would hurt even more, but maybe you 
 would love a lover so much more than a kitten 
 that you wouldn't mind. Do you reckon my 
 mother loved my father enough to let him pull 
 her hair that hard, Mammy? " 
 
 " Yes, chil', I's sho she did." Mammy looked 
 very solemn when she made this assertion. 
 
 "But he loved her too much to hurt her, 
 didn't he, Mammy? " 
 
 " Er er yes, sho, sho ! " 
 
 " Mammy, it seems so strange that nobody 
 has a picture of my mother. I have tried and 
 tried to make a picture of her but I make such 
 poor noses. I do wish Daddy could talk about 
 her to me. Was her nose like mine? " 
 
 ' Well er kinder lak yo's, an' kinder 
 mo' growed up lak. Now, honey chil', why 
 don't you run out an' play? Mammy's gonter 
 bake you a lil cake an' if you keeps on a talkin' 
 she cyarn't git to it. The chilluns is a callin' 
 you ter come and skate, but don't you let none 
 er them roll over you."
 
 64 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " All right, Mammy! But save me some raw 
 cake batter I just love it! " 
 
 Esther was off like a breeze. Mammy 
 watched her until she was out of sight, her old 
 brown face working with emotion. Ten years 
 had passed since that windy, rainy night in 
 March when the blue-serge jacket with its 
 precious inclosure had been left on Dr. Wal 
 lace's door-step. What years they had been! 
 Mammy -looked back on them with extreme 
 satisfaction. From the moment the baby had 
 been taken out of the wet, the whole tenor of 
 Dr. Wallace's life had changed. The respon 
 sibilities of being a father and a widower had 
 brought him to a realization of his frivolous 
 mode of living and had created the desire in him 
 to be the man his youth had promised. The 
 public had assisted him in his endeavor by being 
 sick and by calling on him to heal it. His prac 
 tice, like the beanstalk in the story Esther loved 
 to hear him tell, grew and grew over night, 
 as it were. Had he still wanted to spend his 
 time in riotous living, he would not have been 
 allowed to do so by the patients who flocked to his 
 door. They seemed now to have no trouble in 
 finding the doctor's modest sign that was hung 
 in rather than out. 
 
 The undesirable acquaintances he had ac-
 
 Justifying a Lie 65 
 
 quired, on first coming to that southern town 
 to settle, gradually dropped out of his life as 
 completely as Stanley had. Faithful, silent 
 Peter Roche remained, and was a frequent vis 
 itor at the old Grant house, where he was ever 
 warmly welcomed by Mammy and Esther as 
 well as the doctor. 
 
 Esther could not help loving Peter. He was 
 an ever-ready playmate and listener. 
 
 And Peter had to listen to many confidences 
 when he made his visits to the Wallace house 
 hold. Esther saved up all her joys and sorrows 
 for him. The doctor must tell him of Esther's 
 many perfections, of her beauty and charm, her 
 wit and cleverness, her loving heart and cheer 
 ful disposition, her artistic talent and ready 
 understanding of the best in poetry. Mammy 
 must hold forth in like manner. The old 
 woman was sure that her baby child was the 
 best and most beautiful baby child in the whole 
 world. No longer did she insist that the little 
 Andy had been the cutest, sweetest, most dim 
 pled person possible. The child Andy had a 
 rival in the child Esther. 
 
 " Jes' look at her when she's a skatin' wif 
 the chillun on the block! They's all dirt beside 
 her. Look how she hoi' her haid! Look how 
 she skims along on them roller skates. She's
 
 66 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 jes' as much at home on them as a buzzard is 
 up in the ar." 
 
 Truly the little waif had repaid her bene 
 factors a million times over. In the first place 
 she had proved from the beginning to be a 
 perfectly healthy, normal child. Her teeth had 
 come in when they should have done so, and at 
 the prescribed age she had lost them, thereby 
 presenting a snaggled tooth smile that Mammy 
 and Dr. Wallace thought most engaging. The 
 so-called children's diseases passed her by. 
 When all the children on the block were in the 
 throes of whooping cough, and the schools were 
 full of it, little Esther seemed to be immune. 
 Measles and chicken-pox would none of her. 
 She did not even catch colds. 
 
 " She ain't no contagious baby, that's sho! " 
 Mammy declared proudly. " She's a good-luck 
 baby!" 
 
 Esther was not perfect by any means, 
 although those who loved her insisted she was. 
 She had a quick temper of her own, was lazy 
 about her lessons, and far from tidy. Her 
 temper, like most gusty ones, soon blew itself 
 out. And fairy stories were so much more 
 interesting than long division that one could 
 hardly blame her for preferring to curl up on 
 the sofa with Hans Andersen rather than to
 
 Justifying a Lie 67 
 
 work silly examples that got one nowhere, or 
 if they did, were of no earthly good when they 
 did get one there. The doctor wondered what 
 she would do when she came to fractions and 
 decimals if she could not grasp long division; 
 and, later on, algebra and geometry would have 
 to be grappled with. 
 
 " Th'ain't no use in worryin', Doc Andy, 
 'cause she's a larnin a lil bit ev'y day. Time 
 was whin two didn't mean no mo' ter her than 
 one, an' then 'fo' you knowed it she war a addin' 
 an' 'stractin' as putty as you please. I ain't 
 studyin' none bout rithmutics. They kin keep 
 keer er theyselves. What I'm a botherin' my 
 haid over is her keerlessness 'bout her things. I 
 kin straighten her bureau an' closet ev'y day, 
 an' ev'y day she kin stir 'em up jes' same as ifn 
 she wa' a makin' batter bread. Rithmutics 
 ain't no good ter a gal 'cep' jes' ter keep from 
 gittin' short-changed, but keepin' her clothes 
 neat an' nice an' bein' tidy is larnin' she'll have 
 ter use ev'y day of her life." 
 
 " Maybe you spoil her, Mammy. If you did 
 not do it for her, perhaps she would learn to do 
 it for herself." 
 
 ' Yessir, an' I reckon if you wa'n't allus a 
 helpin' her with her sums, she'd larn herself, 
 too."
 
 68 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 The old woman and her master were con 
 stantly playfully accusing each other of spoil 
 ing the child. Sometimes it got to be in earnest 
 when Esther developed some unforeseen trait. 
 Dr. Wallace was sure it was due to Mammy's 
 indulgence of her charge, while the negress was 
 certain the foster father was responsible. Some 
 times she even harked back to failings in his 
 family and freely intimated that the child had 
 inherited a tendency from some dimly-remem 
 bered ancestor. 
 
 Once the little thing had played truant from 
 school for several days. It was during the 
 measles epidemic and the teacher, taking it for 
 granted the disease had attacked the doctor's 
 daughter, had not looked up the absent one as 
 was her custom. Finally, when Esther's perfidy 
 came to light and it was discovered she had 
 spent the week at the public library delightfully 
 and profitably employed in reading the Arabian 
 Nights, Mammy had exclaimed: 
 
 " Jes* lak yo' paw, Doc Andy! Marse Bob 
 Wallace was eternally stealin' off an' goin' 
 feeshin' when Ol' Miss thought he wa' safe at 
 school. She useter say he nebber would git 
 eddicated, an' lowed I lamed farster 'an what 
 he done, 'ceptin' I nebber could go but jes* so 
 fur, whilst Marse Bob all of a suddent knowed
 
 Justifying a Lie 69 
 
 it all. Lil Esther is gonter be jes' 'zactly lak 
 him." 
 
 The doctor smiled grimly. Sometimes 
 Mammy seemed to fool herself completely into 
 believing that Esther had a perfect right to 
 inherit his family's characteristics. She had told 
 her tale so often when the baby was first left to 
 their tender mercies, and afterwards had been 
 forced by the little .girl to repeat it over and 
 over to her so often that now it seemed to be 
 something that had really happened. Only 
 when the child demanded a picture of her dead 
 mother, or details of the wedding, or the exact 
 location of her grave, was Mammy stumped. 
 
 But never did the old woman regret the 
 deception she had practiced, and as Esther got 
 older, making more and more friends, she would 
 rejoice in the fact that her baby could hold up 
 her head ivith the best of them. Esther had a 
 real talent for making friends. She was hand 
 in glove with the ash man and the ice man and 
 the man who delivered the afternoon paper. 
 She was a favorite at school with teachers and 
 children. The blind beggar who sat on the 
 church steps learned to know her voice. Indeed, 
 Mammy often complained that she did not even 
 require that her friends should be clean, and the 
 doctor objected that they did not have to be
 
 70 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 interesting for his daughter to take them under 
 her fairy wings. The fact that they were living 
 and breathing seemed enough for the child. 
 
 " I believe she loves the whole world. She 
 cannot hate to save her sweet life," the doctor 
 declared to Mammy when they were engaged 
 in their favorite pastime of congratulating them 
 selves that their doorstep had been the one chosen 
 out of all the thousands of others on which to 
 leave the baby. 
 
 " Don't you believe it, Doc Andy, don't you 
 believe it I That there chu" is jes' as good a 
 hater as she is a lover, but she is slow ter hate. 
 Some folks she jes' nachully 'spises. When she 
 hates anybody, it looks lak she hates 'em all 
 over. I done tuck notice that she don't say 
 nothin' when them folkes is roun', but she jes' 
 sets quiet lak an' is extra politeful." 
 
 There was only one thing Dr. Wallace would 
 not do for his adopted daughter and that was to 
 talk to her about his fictitious wife. He could 
 not bring himself to do it. He well knew that 
 in his silence he had been party to the fraud 
 worked by Mammy on the public and on the 
 little Esther, but nevertheless he drew a cer 
 tain satisfaction from the circumstance that 
 never once had he spoken of the dead wife. 
 He simply kept his mouth tightly closed when 
 ever she was alluded to.
 
 Justifying a Lie 71 
 
 Mammy had so drilled the child, and their 
 neighbors and acquaintances, that they never 
 spoke to the doctor of the young woman who 
 was supposed to have been so beloved by him 
 that he could not trust himself to mention her 
 name. As the years passed the role became 
 easier and easier for him to play before the 
 neighbors and friends, but more and more diffi 
 cult as far as the child was concerned. 
 
 Perfect sympathy and understanding existed 
 between man and little girl except on that one 
 subject, and as is usuaDy the case, that one 
 subject seemed ever present. Sometimes he 
 would feel that he must break his silence and 
 talk to her of that mother around whose memory 
 he well knew Esther was weaving wonderful 
 romances, but his conscience had drawn the line 
 between being party to a lie and actually telling 
 it and he never could bring himself to make the 
 attempt. There were moments when, in his 
 heart, he fiercely blamed Mammy for the deceit 
 he had been forced by her to practice, but then 
 something would occur to make him glad that 
 things were as they were. 
 
 On one occasion Esther had come home from 
 school with flushed cheeks and shining eyes 
 because of something that had happened. A 
 little girl had been guilty of a very naughty
 
 72 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 deed. She had been caught going through chil 
 dren's coat pockets and had been sent home. 
 Many pennies and pencils had been missed dur 
 ing the session, and now the whole class was 
 sure that the convicted one was responsible for 
 the theft of all the lost articles. 
 
 " And, Daddy, they said such terrible things 
 about poor Amelia things that make me so 
 sorry for her." 
 
 Esther had burst into the dining-room just as 
 the doctor was being seated and while Mammy 
 was bringing in dinner. She flounced into her 
 seat, throwing her hat and coat carelessly on a 
 chair. They slid to the floor. 
 
 ' What did they say? It seems to me that a 
 little girl who steals must have something wrong 
 with her brain. Is she poor?" 
 
 " Oh, Daddy, that's the worst part of it! 
 She is not at all poor, but wears the flossiest 
 clothes at school and is so pretty! They say 
 she is 'dopted 'dopted by rich people. I 
 didn't know what 'dopted meant, but the girls 
 told me. They say she doesn't even know who 
 her really truly mother and father were. Her 
 'dopted mother got her out of a 'sylum. She 
 chose her just because she was so pretty. And 
 now all the girls at school say they reckon her 
 really truly mother and father were bad and
 
 Justifying a Lie 73 
 
 she got stealing from them. Oh, Daddy, I'm 
 so glad I'm not 'dopted! " 
 
 Esther ran around the table to give the doctor 
 an extra kiss, administering a little hug to 
 Mammy's legs as she passed the old woman, 
 who was standing near the table, a covered dish 
 in her hands and her brown old face working 
 strangely. 
 
 " Now, if I'm bad it will be all my own fault, 
 won't it, Daddy? You are so good and I am 
 sure my mother " 
 
 Esther suddenly remembered Mammy's ad 
 monitions concerning the mention of her mother 
 to her father and stopped short. Her eyes 
 filled with tears, and she looked longingly into 
 the doctor's face. If he would only talk to her 
 about her mother, what a comfort it would be! 
 His mouth closed tightly but he put his arm 
 around the child and drew her close to him, 
 giving an appealing glance to Mammy. The 
 old woman arose to the occasion as was her 
 wont. 
 
 ' Yo' maw wa' a angel, yes, a angel ! You 
 ain't gonter take no lowness arfter her. An' 
 she wa' that 'ticular an' tidy 'bout her things - 
 allus a puttin' 'em away an' foldin' 'em up 7 
 I never yet seed yo' maw a throw her coat an' 
 hat on the flo'."
 
 74 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "Didn't you, Mammy? Well, I'm going to 
 try and be like her. 'Scuse me a minute, 
 Daddy!" The child picked up her hat and 
 coat and meekly took them in the hall where 
 Mammy had put a rack under the stair at a 
 convenient height for short arms to reach. 
 
 Mammy looked triumphantly at her master. 
 He could not help but feel that she had been 
 right in protecting Esther as she had done. 
 The lie was justified. 
 
 " You'd better tell her that her maw wa' good 
 at rithmutic. It mought give her some ambition 
 ter larn," she whispered. 
 
 The doctor smiled. He could not but be 
 glad that his little girl did not have to contend 
 with poor Amelia's handicap. As she slid back 
 in her place, he looked at her with satisfaction. 
 She must never know that she too was adopted. 
 Never must she feel that there was no use in 
 trying because she had inherited any undesir 
 able tendencies. Every fault must be her own 
 fault, to be overcome by herself.
 
 Chapter 7 
 THE IMAGINARY PORTRAIT 
 
 " Peter, how did it happen you never saw my 
 mother? Haven't you known Daddy for ever 
 and ever so long? " 
 
 "Yes, pretty long!" 
 
 " Are you sure you never saw her? " 
 
 " Sure as can be ! " 
 
 " Weren't you in New York when Daddy 
 was, after you finished college?" 
 
 " For a while." 
 
 " Don't you think it would have been more 
 f riendly-like if you had gone to see my mother 
 after Daddy married her? " 
 
 "Well" er yes " 
 
 "Of course it would have been! Oh, Peter, 
 it seems to me so careless that nobody has a 
 picture of my mother. Daddy has never talked 
 to me about her never since I've been born. 
 Mammy tells me things, but I want to know so 
 much more. You see, Mammy only saw her for 
 a little while because she died so young, and 
 then Mammy brought me here. Daddy had 
 come here to make a home for Mother and me." 
 
 75
 
 76 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "Twelve years ago, wasn't it?*' 
 
 " Yes! Next week is my birthday. You see, 
 Peter, I always give Daddy a present on my 
 birthday just because I am so glad he is my 
 Daddy, and this year I am making him a water- 
 color painting of my mother." 
 
 " Your mother! " The phlegmatic Peter was 
 aroused. 
 
 "Yes, Peter! Of course it is a work of the 
 imagination, but I am almost sure it is like her. 
 Mammy has told me exactly how she looked. 
 She looked a little like me quite like me in 
 fact but her eyes were as blue as the moun 
 tains way off, not nut brown like mine, but the 
 same shape, and her hair almost touched the 
 ground, and it was golden and wavy, not curly 
 like mine and not so reddish as mine. Her nose 
 started out to be like mine but decided to be a 
 little longer. Maybe when I am all the way 
 grown up, my nose will turn down at least 
 not turn up so much. I'd like for it to get to be 
 more like my mother's. Noses are so hard to 
 draw. I practice on them all the time. My 
 arithmetic is a sight because I have drawn 
 teacher's nose all up and down the margins. 
 I am getting now so I can do three-quarter 
 noses almost as hard as fractions but lots 
 more fun and "I tell you they are hard. It is
 
 The Imaginary Portrait 77 
 
 easier when you get to painting, because you 
 can kind of smudge in some shadows and cover 
 up your faults. I'm working so hard on the 
 picture of Mother that I am not trusting to 
 smudges to cover up anything." 
 
 " Are you doing the whole thing from imagi 
 nation?" 
 
 " No, Peter dear, I am posing for it myself. 
 I look in the mirror and make believe I am 
 twenty years old. I try to imagine I love some 
 body a whole lot not the way I love Daddy 
 and Mammy and you, too, Peter dear, but the 
 way Rapunzel loved the prince enough to let 
 him climb in the window by my hair ; or the way 
 the princess must have loved King Thrushbeard 
 when she worked as a kitchen maid for him and 
 carried home scraps in an old tomato can ; or the 
 way Maid Maleen loved the prince so much 
 that she didn't even mind being shut up in a 
 "dark tower for his sake, without so much as a 
 ray of light to comb her long hair by. After I 
 think of myself this way, it seems as though 
 my nose turns down a wee bit. Daddy says he 
 thinks my nose is pretty ' Tip tilted like the 
 petals of a rose/ he says." 
 
 '* Well it is a rather happy nose," laughed 
 Peter. ' When are you going to show me your 
 picture? "
 
 78 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Now, if you want me to ! You see, it is not 
 done yet. I am glad I started on a thick piece 
 of water-color paper because I've had to rub a 
 lot. It may turn out to be a little woolly. That 
 is what the drawing teacher calls it when you 
 have to rub out a lot, but I believe it is better to 
 try hard and have it woolly than to get right 
 just by accident. This picture of my mother is 
 very serious. When you are putting your whole 
 soul into anything, somehow you don't want to 
 be just hit or miss, do you, Peter? " 
 
 "I reckon not!" 
 
 Esther was developing a decided taste for 
 drawing and painting. Her artistic talent first 
 evinced itself when she began to ply a pair of 
 blunt scissors on the papers she cut for 
 Mammy's kitchen shelves. Instead of the pat 
 tern of little triangles and gimcracks that 
 Mammy had taught her to cut by folding the 
 newspapers many times, the child's imagination 
 directed the scissors so that a frieze of birds was 
 the result; then came flowers and trees. Later 
 came a great day when she found she could cut 
 a fairy with wings, a star on her forehead and 
 wand in her hand. Mammy was proud indeed 
 of these wondrous shelf -papers, and when they 
 got so soiled that they had to be replaced, she 
 could not bear to destroy them but folded them
 
 The Imaginary Portrait 79 
 
 up and packed them away in the attic trunk. 
 
 A pair of sharp-pointed scissors was finally 
 permitted the young artist if she promised 
 never to use them when she had company. 
 That pair of silver scissors, presented by Peter, 
 was Esther's pride and joy. Now she could cut 
 reindeer with branching antlers, running 
 through a forest where the bare trees with their 
 intricate pattern of limbs must be treated with 
 infinite patience and skill. The household mar 
 veled at her patience and the untiring efforts 
 she made to accomplish her ideal, whether it 
 was a decoration for Mammy's shelves or a 
 paper doll for one of her admiring playmates. 
 
 The dolls were exquisite creations of the 
 imagination. All of the princesses in the fairy 
 stories had to play their parts as paper dolls, 
 and if one of them was said to have a dress like 
 the stars, another like the moon, and another 
 like the sun, have them they must. 
 
 Esther lived in a land of make-believe. From 
 the time she could understand, Dr. Wallace had 
 entertained her with fairy stories. And Mammy 
 had told her wonderful tales of animals the 
 folk lore of the negroes. When she learned to 
 read, it was feared she might spend too much of 
 her time with her nose buried in a book, but 
 she was too popular a person for that. The
 
 80 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 children of her acquaintance would not permit 
 it, and so she must take her fairy fancies into 
 her games. She was forever getting up tab 
 leaux. Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Puss-in- 
 Boots, Snow- White and the Dwarfs were 
 presented many times. A box of tissue paper 
 costumes, somewhat the worse for wear after 
 several performances, was kept in the attic, but 
 flowing hair and a gold paper star on one's 
 forehead often kept the audience from seeing 
 the rumpled state of the costume. 
 
 From tableaux grew plays. Plays must be 
 written and acted. Of course this subtracted 
 somewhat from the time that should have been 
 spent on the difficult mathematics, but Dr. 
 Wallace felt that, after all, this was the way 
 his little daughter had of growing and he must 
 not stunt her growth by trying to discourage it. 
 Mammy had her doubts about " play actin' an' 
 sich," as she had been preached to in church 
 about the iniquities of the theatre, but when 
 Esther explained to her that if you didn't do a 
 tiling too well, preachers did not mind it, the 
 old woman was entirely satisfied. 
 
 " It 'pears ter me lak it's pow'ful nachel, so 
 let it be jes* as you say, honey chiF. I ain't 
 nebber been ter a real show, so I ain't prepared 
 ter say what kin be did."
 
 The Imaginary Portrait 81 
 
 Sometimes the doctor was pressed into service 
 in these wonderful private theatricals. Usually 
 he was cast as the kingly father, but sometimes 
 he had to take the part of the wicked magician. 
 Even Peter had been known to act in them, 
 always under outward protest, but secretly 
 pleased at being included, although his part was 
 always a silent one, or almost silent. He had 
 acted the faithful henchman; the huntsman who 
 could not make up his mind to kill Snow- White 
 but took instead the heart of the doe to the 
 wicked step-mother; also, Faithful Henry, who 
 bound his body with iron bands to keep his 
 heart from bursting with sorrow when his mas 
 ter was changed into a frog. When, in this 
 latter impersonation, his heart swelled with joy 
 and pride at the liberation of the prince, the 
 noise the bands made in bursting was a marvel 
 of histrionic talent, so Esther declared. 
 
 Mammy was always the Fairy Godmother, 
 disguised as an old witch. The old woman was 
 a little squeamish about such goings on, living 
 in constant fear that " mimbers of my sassiety " 
 might hear of it, but Esther insisted that she 
 must act, so act she must. 
 
 A true prince was wanting in the all star 
 cast. Esther's best friend, Marian Carley, who 
 was blessed with a pair of long shapely legs,
 
 82 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 usually had to don the tights and play prince, 
 but she longed to be chosen as Sleeping Beauty 
 and did not at all relish having to be nothing 
 but a boy. 
 
 Play-acting had lately given way somewhat 
 to drawing and painting. All of the time 
 Esther could spare from her lessons, and a great 
 deal that she couldn't, was spent with pencil and 
 brush. Dr. Wallace had hunted up a teacher 
 for the child. Miss Hunter recognized that her 
 pupil had a decided talent, and took a great 
 interest in her. She hoped to be able to give a 
 foundation for the fanciful imagination to build 
 on, especially since the young artist had the 
 rare talent of being able to catch a likeness. 
 
 " Imagination is a great gift, but it will be 
 just so much more of an asset if it goes hand in 
 hand with good drawing and true values,*' she 
 would tell her eager pupil. 
 
 Esther had been working every afternoon for 
 many days on the birthday present for her 
 father. Her companions, headed by Marian, 
 were impatient of this latest fad of their friend. 
 They longed for a return to her early manner 
 of paper dolls and fairy tableaux, something in 
 which they might join, but nothing would lure 
 the girl from the mirror where she studied her 
 youthful features with an absorbed intensity.
 
 The Imaginary Portrait 83 
 
 When Peter asked Esther to show him the 
 picture she was painting, she ran eagerly to get 
 it. " If only he had seen the original! " was 
 her thought as she hurried back with the paint 
 ing. She was almost afraid to show it to 
 Mammy. Suppose she would not recognize it! 
 Suppose the idea she had formed of her dead 
 mother was entirely an erroneous one ! She had 
 drawn the picture for her father, but she was 
 determined to guard her secret closely. If they 
 saw the likeness, then her happiness would be 
 complete. If not, then she had simply failed to 
 grasp the appearance of her poor dead mother, 
 or had failed to record the image with her inex 
 perienced pencil and brush. Either alternative 
 was more or less of a tragedy to the child. 
 
 " Peter, dear, I have worked so hard," she 
 said hesitantly as she handed him the water-color 
 painting. " I don't think it is so very clever, 
 and I am sure Miss Hunter would tell me to 
 begin all over again and get it crisper. But 
 you do think it looks a little like me, don't 
 you? Do you think it looks as though it might 
 have been my mother? " 
 
 Peter's hand trembled a little as he held the 
 picture from him to get the right light and dis 
 tance. The man was one of those silent, inar 
 ticulate persons who are full of sympathy and
 
 84 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 understanding that cannot be expressed. Some 
 times one feels that a person is silent from the 
 fact that he has nothing to say, but with Peter, 
 his friends knew that he was reticent from a 
 certain inability to give expression to his inmost 
 feelings. The feelings were there, but where 
 emotions were concerned, he had no words at his 
 command. When Esther looked eagerly into 
 his face for his verdict concerning her poor little 
 painting, all he could say was: 
 
 " Yes, I think it might have been." 
 
 "Really, Peter?" 
 
 "Really!" 
 
 The man was astonished at the skill the child 
 had shown hi the little drawing. He felt that 
 she had in a measure expressed what she had 
 intended. It was a picture of herself grown 
 up into a woman of ethereal loveliness, who 
 showed in the depths of her violet eyes that she 
 had suffered. The mouth smiled a little wist 
 fully, but smiled. The yellow hair was parted 
 in the middle and braided into two long plaits 
 which fell across her bosom. What did it matter 
 that the hair was too yellow for mortal hair? 
 What if the mouth was too vivid a red? What 
 if the much used eraser had almost rubbed a 
 hole in several places? One felt that the little 
 artist had been sincere had had something to
 
 The Imaginary Portrait 85 
 
 express and had expressed it with astonishing 
 fidelity. 
 
 It was well drawn and showed a decided like 
 ness to Esther. Her long practice in noses had 
 served her well. She had been able to continue 
 her own tip-tilted member to a dignified length, 
 had kept the eyes shaped like her own but had 
 painted them a deep violet instead of brown. 
 
 " Do you think Daddy and Mammy will 
 recognize it, Peter? " 
 
 " Can't say, my dear. Ask them." 
 " Not for worlds ! I am not going to tell 
 them who it is but just watch their faces and 
 see if they know. Don't you tell them. 
 Promise! " 
 
 " Umm sure, not if you say I shouldn't!" 
 Peter regretted exceedingly that he was an 
 honorable gentleman. He longed to put Dr. 
 Wallace and Mammy on their guard, knowing 
 that they would do anything in the world to 
 keep disappointment from their child. She had 
 hoped so keenly that they would recognize the 
 picture of her mother that failure would be sure 
 to grieve her deeply.
 
 The fifteenth of March had been determined 
 upon by the conspirators as the proper birthday 
 for Esther. Dr. Wallace had rather leaned 
 towards putting it later in the month on the day 
 the baby came to him, but Mammy insisted 
 otherwise. 
 
 " Some 'quisitive pusson '11 be sho ter 'member 
 on sich an' sich a day they wa'n't no baby chil' 
 here. No, Doc Andv, if she wa' bawn in New 
 
 * ' 
 
 York, she wa' bawn thar, an' we's got ter make 
 'lowances fer it. I done studied out this here lie 
 til it's the same as truf." 
 
 And so the birthday was set at the fifteenth, 
 and thereafter that day was ever a gala day 
 with the household. Year after year, from the 
 time when the cake was no bigger than a muffin 
 with one candle decorating it, Peter Roche 
 always came to supper on that evening. 
 
 The presenting of birthday gifts came first. 
 Usually it was just before supper. Mammy 
 always provided a feast for the occasion, and 
 
 86
 
 A Wonderful Birthday 87 
 
 the table was set with great nicety. Dr. Wallace 
 had brought from the old home in Virginia 
 many fine old bits of silver and furniture that 
 had been in his family for generations. Mammy 
 kept the drop-leaf mahogany dining-table 
 rubbed up to the highest state of polish. A spot 
 on it would have been regarded by her as 
 seriously as a blot on the family escutcheon. 
 
 " Th'ain't no varnish nor nothin' on the 
 Wallace furnisher any mo' than they is on 
 the fambly. Good furnisher an* good famblies 
 don't need no varnish. I looks arfter the fur 
 nisher wif elbow grease, an' the fambly is done 
 polished up wif eddication fer so many genera 
 tions it jes' shines of its own nachel brilliancy," 
 the old retainer declared. 
 
 Truly, the table was a beautiful sight on little 
 Esther's twelfth birthday. Pink shaded wax 
 candles in massive silver candelabra threw a soft 
 light over the polished table. In the centre was 
 a bowl of tea roses sent by Peter because he 
 always felt that Esther and tea roses were akin. 
 Of course, his inarticulate handicap kept him 
 from sa3'ing so. He hoped some one understood 
 why he had always sent tea roses for the birth 
 day feast. Whether anyone else saw that the 
 color down in the heart of a tea rose was the same 
 as came in the shadows of the child's soft con-
 
 88 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 tours, he could not tell, but nevertheless he 
 derived extreme satisfaction from knowing it 
 himself. Her pretty little ears might have been 
 the petals of a rose, with their creamy pink 
 glow; also the tip-tilted nose that she felt such 
 unreasonable scorn of. 
 
 Esther had been in a strange mood all day, 
 one moment flying around like a will o' the 
 wisp, the next subdued and pensive. She had 
 mixed up the greatest common divisor and the 
 least common multiple in an astonishing manner 
 at school, until the patient teacher had almost 
 despaired of ever making her see the light. She 
 had drawn a frieze of noses in her copy book 
 instead of writing, " Procrastination is the thief 
 of time," twenty times, which was the light 
 punishment that had been meted out to her 
 for inattention. Some of the noses were her 
 own, and others were more turned down. All 
 of them seemed to her to be tragic. 
 
 " Maybe one can suffer with a turned-up nose 
 after all," she mused. 
 
 She was sure of it later on when she had to 
 stay in half an hour after school to work off her 
 demerits. 
 
 She had had her painting framed, and was 
 anxiously awaiting the hour when she would 
 present it to her father.
 
 A Wonderful Birthday 89 
 
 "They'll recognize it! I know they will!" 
 she said over and over to herself. 
 
 " But suppose they don't! Suppose I haven't 
 been thinking about the right mother all the 
 time! Maybe I haven't caught the likeness of 
 the mother I have been dreaming of." 
 
 Peter, too, was going through agonies. 
 Almost was he persuaded to break his word to 
 Esther and warn his friend and old Mammy of 
 the coming crisis. 
 
 " I'd do it if I could be sure she wouldn't 
 find it out No, I wouldn't. The poor child 
 has had her very existence based on a necessary 
 lie, but that one lie must be all." He groaned 
 miserably to himself as he rang the bell at the 
 old Grant house. 
 
 An air of festivity pervaded the place. 
 Delicious odors of the forthcoming supper had 
 found their way to the front hall when Esther 
 threw open the door in answer to his summons. 
 Bowing low in mock ceremony, she took his 
 hand in hers and conducted him to the library 
 where Dr. Wallace awaited their guest. 
 
 " I have put a lovely frame on it, and the hole 
 I almost rubbed into it doesn't show a bit, now it is 
 mounted," she whispered as she danced by his 
 side. 
 
 "Good!"
 
 90 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "Oh, Peter, only s'pose!" 
 
 Peter looked mutely at his little friend. If 
 he could only help her! 
 
 Everything was in readiness for the feast, 
 but first the presents must be opened. Peter 
 had brought a blue locket set with a star of tiny 
 pearls, and a thin gold chain from which to 
 hang it. 
 
 " Esther means star, you know," he said. 
 
 ' Yes, Peter dear, I do know, and I think it 
 is just like you to get something that means 
 something. And the tea roses, too! Do you 
 know, Peter, I used to think maybe 1 was born 
 out of a tea rose like Thumbelina. When I 
 was quite a little child, I mean. Of course, 
 when I got older I knew I had a mother and 
 was born like other babies, but tea roses are the 
 loveliest roses in the world to me, and I think it 
 must be because I used to think that way about 
 them. You see, you have always sent them on 
 my birthday, and I have always felt they were 
 my birth flower, somehow." 
 
 " Er er exactly ! " Peter was satisfied. 
 He felt that one person understood him, but 
 being understood made him desire with greater 
 intensity that his little friend should be also. 
 
 Esther received her present from her father, 
 a tiny wrist watch. Her eyes filled with tears.
 
 A Wonderful Birthday 91 
 
 Why, she didn't know. Was there ever such a 
 dear, generous father in all the world? The 
 watch was indeed beautiful, but she would have 
 given it up and all the presents besides, even 
 the blue locket studded with pearls, all, every 
 thing she prized on earth, if only that dear, 
 generous father would hold her close in his arms 
 and talk to her about her mother. 
 
 There were various other presents from her 
 friends and a silk patchwork couch-quilt from 
 Mammy. The old woman had done it at night 
 and at odd moments while Esther was at school. 
 
 " Oh, Mammy, how beautiful ! And with 
 your poor eyes ! You should not have done it ! " 
 
 " Well, 'tain't but half size, an* I been a savin* 
 them pieces fer quite a spell ter work inter that 
 sunrise pattern. 'Tis mos'ly made er yo' paw's 
 kervats an' yo' bar ribbons," said the old woman, 
 proudly viewing her gift. " I made it light 
 weight jes' ter th'ow over yo' foots whin you 
 lay down ter take a lil res'." 
 
 'Yes, Mammy, and I thank you a million 
 times. I love every stitch you put in it." 
 
 And now she must give her present to the 
 doctor. She hung back embarrassed and not 
 like herself. Mammy looked at her keenly. 
 What was the matter with her pet? She had 
 not been herself all day. Something was troub-
 
 92 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ling the child. Mr. Peter looked excited, too. 
 He seemed to be trying to attract Mammy's 
 attention. That is, he looked at her intently 
 and bit his lips ferociously. Once he shook his 
 head. 
 
 " My white folks is up ter something," 
 Mammy muttered to herself. 
 
 Usually Esther took the old woman into her 
 confidence concerning the present that she gave 
 her father on her birthday. This year she had 
 not done so. Why? Keen-witted old Mammy 
 was busy thinking. It was high time for her 
 to repair to the kitchen and take up supper, 
 Init wild horses could not tear her away, nor 
 even the possibility of Sally Lunn overbaking, 
 until Esther had given her present to the doctor. 
 
 "Here, Daddy! I painted it for you and 
 and I hope you will will make allow 
 
 ances." 
 
 She handed the picture to the doctor, tied 
 up in its neat tissue paper wrappings. 
 
 " My dear, I am certain to like it if you did it. 
 Before I even see it, I assure you that I won't 
 have to make allowances." 
 
 He undid the paper and placed the framed 
 picture on the mantlepiece where all could get 
 a good light on it. The mounting and glass 
 mercifully hid the places where much rubbing
 
 A Wonderful Birthday 93 
 
 had almost worn through. The shiny gilt frame 
 tempered the somewhat exaggerated yellow of 
 the hair. On the whole it was certainly a very 
 remarkable painting for a child of twelve to 
 have made. 
 
 " Lovely I Charming ! My darling Esther, 
 I am delighted I " exclaimed Dr. Wallace. " It 
 looks like you, too, which makes it just so much 
 lovelier." 
 
 Peter did not groan, but he nearly did so. He 
 looked appealingly at Mammy. Mammy 
 caught his eye and then looked at Esther. The 
 girl's mouth was trembling. Her expression 
 was touchingly forlorn. Suddenly the light 
 broke in on the old woman's brain. She clapped 
 her hands delightedly. 
 
 " Lawsamussy, Doc Andy, if it ain't a pixsher 
 er Miss Elizabeth 1" 
 
 Dr. Wallace gasped! Surely, Mammy had 
 gone crazy. 
 
 The good man had been startled and distressed 
 when he had seen his little girl evidently on 
 the verge of tears when he praised the paint 
 ing. What the cause was, he could not divine, 
 but he saw her mouth tremble and her brown 
 eyes ready to run over. He thought she must 
 be sick perhaps she was about to come down 
 with one of the many children's diseases she
 
 94 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 had up to that time miraculously escaped. 
 
 " Sho it's Miss Elizabeth! Look at that long 
 goldin hair an' them eyes jes' lak Esther's 
 'ceptin' they's blue! I don't see how you done 
 it, chil', wif a lil water an' them patty pans er 
 paint." 
 
 At Mammy's discovery, Esther's whole ex 
 pression had changed. Now her eyes were 
 dancing again. The tears were falling, but 
 they had no more sorrow in them than an April 
 shower because she was smiling at the same 
 time. She laughed with glee and threw her 
 arms around Mammy's neck. 
 
 She had dreamed true! She had dreamed 
 true! Mammy had recognized her picture 
 whether her father had or not! As she buried 
 her face on Mammy's faithful bosom, Peter 
 gave Dr. Wallace a ferocious dig in his ribs. 
 
 "Of course! Of course! I had not got a 
 good light on it. It is exactly like her I Splen 
 did! Splendid! Remarkable !" he managed to 
 jerk out. 
 
 Then Esther flew to his arms. He had at last 
 mentioned her mother to her. She was sure 
 that in all the world there was never such a 
 happy child as she. Not only had she dreamed 
 true, but she had been able to put her dream 
 on paper.
 
 A Wonderful Birthday 95 
 
 If the two men had not been so busy watching 
 Esther, they would have found food for study in 
 the countenance of the old colored woman. In 
 it they might have found a mingling of tender 
 ness and triumph. Her ancient eyes, that had 
 begun to be somewhat dimmed, were shining, 
 and her bent shoulders straightened up like a 
 girl's. She held her head erect and her whole 
 figure suggested power. One might have felt 
 that the noble blood of the African king that 
 her great-grandmother had told her ran in her 
 veins was asserting itself. By her powerful will 
 she had certainly made her master say that he 
 saw the likeness to his fictitious wife in the little 
 water-color painting.
 
 Chapter 9 
 ESTHER MEETS A FAIRY PRINCE 
 
 "Don't forget, Daddy!" 
 
 "Forget what?" 
 
 " Oh, you have already forgotten! Can't you 
 remember that you promised to go to the 
 Carleys for supper this evening? They are 
 counting on it. Marian says they have ordered 
 ice cream from Nunnally's and are going to 
 have a spread. Mr. Carley is just crazy about 
 you, Daddy, and it will break his heart if you 
 don't go." Esther had perched herself on the 
 arm of her father's chair, and busied herself 
 smoothing his hair and rumpling his collar. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Carley is a good soul, but I 
 can't see that I am called upon to spend an 
 evening with him. It is much pleasanter at 
 home. Besides I may get called out. Old Mrs. 
 White is very ill. But, of course, if I promised, 
 I promised." 
 
 It fretted Dr. Wallace whenever he had to 
 spend an evening away from home. It was so 
 pleasant there, with Esther hurrying through 
 her lessons so she could talk to him while she 
 
 96
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 97 
 
 put in her time sketching. Sometimes it was 
 noses that claimed her interest; again, eyes and 
 ears. Lately she had been doing hands in all 
 positions. Mammy's hands she loved to draw, 
 declaring they were like beautiful old apple 
 trees all gnarled and twisted from bearing fruit. 
 She would tell the old woman that she could get 
 into Heaven without any recommendation from 
 the Recording Angel. All she would have to 
 do would be to show Peter her hands and he 
 could tell by them how good she had been on 
 earth. Sometimes she would hold up her own 
 left hand as a model. 
 
 Often Peter Roche would drop in, and per 
 haps Marian Carley and other of her young 
 friends. The doctor enjoyed these girls in 
 spite of their sex. It never seemed to enter his 
 shy consciousness that they were females. They 
 were simply the friends of his daughter noth 
 ing but children. Had he realized that they 
 were beginning to think of themselves as grown 
 ups, 110 doubt his shyness would have gotten 
 the better of him. 
 
 " Doc Andy is lak the man what done lifted a 
 calf ev'y day 'til it got ter be a cow, an' he 
 ain't a noticed that it done growed up. Miss 
 Esther an' her frien's is fifteen or tharabouts 
 an' they ain't chilluns no mo', but Doc Andy,
 
 98 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 he ain't a thinkin' 'bout 'em as nothin' but 
 babies." 
 
 On the day Esther was fifteen Mammy had 
 begun to call her Miss Esther, although the 
 girl protested vigorously, declaring she could 
 never be '* Miss " to Mammy, but Mammy 
 insisted that it was right and held to her deter 
 mination. 
 
 " I ain't a-sayin but sometimes in the privacy 
 of retiracy that I won't slip up an' fergit, but 
 'fo' folks I's gonter gib you yo' full name an' 
 clature." 
 
 Esther and her friends were not the only 
 ones who were growing older. Dr. Wallace was 
 forty-five and Mammy was somewhere between 
 seventy and seventy-five, as nearly as she could 
 calculate. 
 
 " I wa' a woman growed whin Marse Jeb 
 Stuart come announcin' ter Marse Bob Wallace 
 that the onlies' way ter git shet er the Yankees 
 wa' ter whup 'em. Looks lak it didn't wuck 
 somehow, 'cause we sho ain't shet er 'em yit. 
 Howsomever, that wa' a long time ergo an* I 
 mus be a-gittin ol' nigh 'bout sebenty-five. 
 I's spry yit, though, pow'ful spry." 
 
 And so she was, but the straight old back was 
 bent now, and the proudly-set head had fallen 
 somewhat between the shoulders, which were no
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 99 
 
 longer erect. Her keen black eyes were grow 
 ing dim. Cataracts were forming over them. 
 She fought off weakness and old age with the 
 determination that was part of her forceful 
 character. When her master suggested that 
 she get someone to help her with the housework, 
 she refused indignantly. 
 
 " I ain't a gonter hab no young free-niggers 
 loafin' 'roun' here a eatin' up yo' victuals an' 
 settin' up ter be as good as Miss Esther. They's 
 a lot er wuck lef in me yit. 'Cose, if you is 
 got ary complaint ter make " 
 
 " Now, now, Mammy, you know it isn't 
 that!" he would say miserably. "I just want 
 to save you." 
 
 " Well, whin I need savin' it's time ter bury 
 me, an' savin' won't do no good." And thus 
 the conversation would end. 
 
 Dr. Wallace wished he could resist the all-too- 
 evident feeling of getting old with some of the 
 spirit his old servant evinced. There was no 
 denying the fact that his hair was rapidly grey 
 ing, and his waist line showed a decided increase. 
 His dapper, clean-cut figure was losing its 
 youthful lines. He did not like it at all, but he 
 could not deny it. 
 
 " Doc Andy done took on a middle-aged 
 spread, an' I done took on a ol' age shrink,"
 
 100 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Mammy would say as she neatly inserted a 
 wedge-shaped patch in the waist-band of her 
 master's underwear. " I's allus a-lettin him out 
 an' takin' myse'f in." 
 
 Dr. Wallace's shyness had not decreased as 
 his waist-band increased. The dread of women, 
 which had possessed him as a young man, still 
 held him in thrall. A woman must be ill for 
 him to feel at ease with her. This the Carleys 
 could not understand. They were constantly 
 asking him to come to parties and dinners and 
 suppers, and Mrs. Carley seemed to feel it a 
 duty she owed to society to find a suitable per 
 son for their beloved family physician to marry. 
 Whenever Dr. Wallace had been inveigled into 
 accepting one of her invitations, she usually 
 managed to have some young woman on hand 
 who she had decided would be exactly the right 
 person. 
 
 " Esther would be much better off with a 
 step-mother," she declared for at least the hun 
 dredth time in the fifteen years of her acquain 
 tance with the Wallaces. Indeed, a hundred is 
 a low estimate. For five years, at least, it had 
 been almost a daily remark and at times an 
 hourly one when the subject was uppermost in 
 her mind. 
 
 " I don't see why you say that. I never have
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 101 
 
 seen why you should say it," contended Mr. 
 Carley. " Do you think Marian would be better 
 off with a step-mother? " 
 
 " That is different. Marian has a mother of 
 her own." 
 
 " But I mean in case " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Carley, you are very rude even 
 to suggest such a terrible thing. I just know 
 I won't be cold before you will be looking 
 around for another wife ! " sniffed Mrs. Carley. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I as well as Wallace? " 
 
 " But that is different," she reiterated. " Mrs. 
 Wallace has been dead fifteen years." 
 
 ' Yes, and fifteen years ago you began trying 
 to marry off Wallace to all the females of your 
 acquaintance. I hope this evening you have not 
 asked any woman to make him miserable." 
 
 ' Well, not to make him miserable but to 
 help entertain him I have asked Mrs. Rich 
 ards and her daughter Lucile." 
 
 ' Who on earth are they? " 
 
 "If you ever listened when I talked, you 
 would know! Mrs. Richards is a charming 
 woman who has lately come into our church. 
 She is a widow " 
 
 "Ah, I thought so!" 
 
 " Poor, but so deserving, and very pretty, 
 and quite a lady! "
 
 102 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " I have always noticed when a person is 
 spoken of as ' quite a lady/ she is usually not 
 quite one," teased the husband. " Poor Wal 
 lace!" 
 
 " Poor, indeed ! Mrs. Richards would make 
 him an excellent wife. She has brought up 
 her own daughter so well that she would be sure 
 to make Esther a good step-mother, too." 
 
 " In my opinion Esther has been very well 
 brought up. She has excellent manners quite 
 as good as Marian's better in fact. Nobody 
 would ever think of saying Esther was * quite 
 a lady.' It goes without saying where Esther is 
 concerned. Blood will tell." 
 
 Nothing irritated Mrs. Carley so much as her 
 husband's frequent affirmations that blood would 
 tell. What it would tell was not quite clear in 
 her mind, but she was sure that the fluid that 
 flowed in her veins, if put to the test, would not 
 show up as blue as could be wished. She en 
 joyed greatly the wealth that had come to her 
 husband through the anti-kink lotion, but she 
 resented bitterly the channel through which the 
 wealth came. She also resented her husband's 
 constant reference to his successful business. 
 Sometimes she even resented the name of Car- 
 ley. It was so like " curly," she was sure ill-bred 
 persons made jokes about it.
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 103 
 
 " Daddy," said Esther as she and her father 
 approached the Carleys' mansion, " Every time 
 I come here I am glad we live where we live 
 instead of somewhere else. The Carleys live 
 in such a shiny house. It hurts my eyes. Even 
 their flower beds are too shiny with geraniums 
 and scarlet sage. And no sooner do you get 
 used to the flowers than a florist comes and 
 grubs them all up and puts something else there. 
 The Carleys are foreverlastingly changing 
 things cooks and wall-paper and flowers and 
 friends. Of course they always stick to us, but 
 they are so terribly fond of us and we are fond 
 of them, too. I'm not foolish over Mrs. Carley, 
 but I really think she means well in spite of 
 her silly ways. Sometimes I wonder if Mr. 
 Carley doesn't wish the cook would stay and 
 Mrs. Carley would go." 
 
 The doctor laughed as he expressed hearty 
 agreement with Esther. 
 
 " She is kind, though, honey, you must never 
 forget that. I reckon poor Carley has to 
 remember it pretty often." 
 
 * That is the worst thing about her her 
 kindness. It makes one like her, even when she 
 is being the biggest kind of a goose. Now Mr. 
 Carley is a perfect duck. I reckon that is 
 where Marian gets her duckiness. If it had
 
 KM: Mammy's White Folks 
 
 been left to her mother she might have been 
 hatched out nothing but a goose. Sometimes 
 I think maybe Marian isn't Mrs. Carley's own 
 child. She isn't a mite like her. She might be 
 a changeling. The fairies might have come in 
 the night and carried off the little goose and 
 put a duck in its place. Or maybe she is a 
 foundling. She may have been left on the 
 Carleys' doorstep." 
 
 " Tut, tut! " exclaimed the doctor in a tone 
 almost angry. " You mustn't say such things! " 
 
 " I'm not saying. I'm just surmising," 
 laughed Esther. 
 
 Dr. Wallace pinched her cheek and rang the 
 Carleys' bell. The door was opened by a brand 
 new butler who ushered them into the drawing- 
 room which had recently been changed from a 
 blue room to a yellow room. The furniture was 
 either new or had been re-upholstered, and the 
 pictures were so changed about that Esther was 
 almost sure she was in the wrong house until 
 Marian came running in to greet her. 
 
 "Dr. Wallace, Father says please come back 
 to his den. He simply hates this new paper. 
 He says it swears at everything in the room, so 
 he feels at liberty to swear at it. What do you 
 think of it, Esther?" 
 
 " Well. I just got used to the blue and
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 105 
 
 felt kind of at home with it," admitted Esther 
 rather hesitantly. 
 
 " Same here ! And oh, Esther, darling', 
 Mother has gone and invited some more people 
 to supper. Father and I are furious, but we 
 don't say so to Mother. Of course, she did no* 
 know how much I wanted to see you, and how 
 much Father wanted to talk to Dr. Wallace 
 alone." 
 
 " Of course not! " was Esther's polite rejoin 
 der. " And I've been dying to see you, 
 Marian simply dying. I've got the most 
 wonderful news! I've seen the prince! " 
 
 "What prince?" 
 
 ' Why, the prince the one in the stories! " 
 
 " Ohf" 
 
 " It was in the forest not exactly the for 
 est," she corrected herself as she noticed 
 Marian's matter-of-fact astonishment, " but the 
 little grove of trees in the corner of Fleet's 
 lawn. Old Mrs. Fleet was ill and I had gone 
 over there with Daddy in his car. While he was 
 curing her I picked some daisies and climbed up 
 in a mulberry tree to make a daisy chain. And 
 while I was sitting there I got to thinking about 
 the seven princes who were turned into seven 
 swans, and the little princess who had to make 
 seven shirts out of starry flowers so she could
 
 106 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 break the spell on her brothers. You remember 
 she couldn't crack a smile or say a word until 
 they were finished? " 
 
 " I remember." 
 
 " And while I was sitting there making the 
 chain, and thinking how hard it would be to 
 weave a shirt, and wondering if the little prin 
 cess had some spell that kept the star flowers 
 fresh while she worked all of a sudden he 
 came! " 
 
 "Who came?" 
 
 'Why, the prince! He was walking along 
 the lane that runs by the for the little grove 
 of trees, and he was whistling, not a loud, shrill 
 whistle, but very soft and low, and then he 
 began to sing: 
 
 * I want no kingdom where thou art, love, 
 I need no throne to make me blest 
 While I have thee, sweetheart, beside me, 
 While I gaze in your dear eyes.' 
 
 I think that is the way it went but I am not 
 quite sure. I almost fell out of the tree I 
 thrilled so. I was awfully afraid he was going 
 to look up in the tree and see me, but I wanted 
 him to just the same. Marian, he is the hand 
 somest prince you ever saw! "
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 107 
 
 * That isn't saying much as I never saw a 
 single one in all my life. But did he? Did he 
 look up ? " 
 
 ' Yes, he looked up and then stopped singing 
 and bowed low like this. He had on a 
 Panama hat, but I give you my word, Marian, 
 he took it off exactly as though it had sweeping 
 plumes. 
 
 " ' Fair maid,' said he, ' I am lost in the 
 forest. Will you please tell me which road to 
 take to find the castle, or rather the country 
 club?'" 
 
 " What did you say? " 
 
 ' Well, you see, I was pretending I was the 
 princess who was making shirts for swans, so I 
 said nothing and I tried hard not to smile. But 
 I put my finger on my lips to let him know I 
 was dumb. He looked so sad and sympathetic, 
 and then he put his hand on top of the fence 
 and vaulted over it just as easy as a circus actor. 
 And he came right close up under the twisted 
 mulberry tree. I was on the lower limb and his 
 face was on a level with mine. He is a very tall 
 prince. He took hold of one end of the daisy 
 chain, and all of a sudden he stopped looking 
 sympathetic and smiled and then he laughed 
 and, oh, Marian, his teeth are good enough to 
 be false! Then he bowed low again and said:
 
 108 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ' Fair maid, I see that thou art making 
 seven shirts of star flowers for seven swans, thy 
 brothers. And the magic will work only if you 
 neither speak nor smile while you sew the shirts. 
 Far be it from me to break the spell. My 
 kingdom is afar off. I am a king, at least a 
 prince, and by the fineness of your golden hair, 
 by the curve of your cheek and the beauty of 
 your eyes I know that thou art a princess. But 
 were you a begger maid I would still ask you to 
 let me return some day and take you to my king 
 dom. Do not speak but merely bow your head." 
 
 " And what did you do? " Marian was getting 
 excited. 
 
 ' Would you believe it, Marian Carley, I 
 sneezed! The pollen from the daisies had got 
 up my nose, and I sneezed so terribly that 
 I almost fell out of the tree. I was terribly 
 mortified the idea of doing such a thing at 
 such a moment ! " 
 
 " Did the prince laugh? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! A true prince would not 
 laugh at such a thing. He looked sad and sympa 
 thetic again, and lent me his handkerchief 
 although I didn't need it." 
 
 " How did he know you were just playing 
 dumb?" 
 
 " I think maybe it was because I said ' Ouch ! '
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 109 
 
 when a little briar I had picked with the daisies 
 stuck in my finger." 
 
 "Do you reckon you'll ever see him again? " 
 
 " Of course ! He is coming back for me after 
 a year and a day. He said so." 
 
 Marian laughed. Sometimes her matter-of- 
 factness was put to a severe strain by Esther's 
 fancifulness. 
 
 Mrs. Carley's other guests arrived and the 
 new butler announced supper. The hostess, 
 seated at the head of her glittering table in the 
 newly decorated dining-room, looked with sat 
 isfaction on the assemblage. There was nothing 
 Mrs. Carley enjoyed so much as what she called 
 " a gathering." The table was resplendent 
 with burnished silver of the latest pattern, 
 wherein the gorgeous floral decoration in the 
 center of the board was reflected in a variety 
 of hues and shapes. The china was just bought, 
 purchased, doubtless, because of its extreme 
 newness in design and color. The newness of 
 the table linen was proclaimed by its extreme 
 stiffness. Seated near the hostess were Mrs. 
 Richards and her daughter, Mrs. Carley's new 
 est friends. The cook a recent acquisition - 
 was sure to put forth her best efforts, as is the 
 way with cooks as well as with brooms. The 
 butler was new and very alert and capable.
 
 110 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 The only fly in the ointment was that the butler 
 unmistakably had been applying to his own 
 woolly head the lotion that made it possible for 
 his mistress to indulge herself so freely in the 
 matter of table and wall decorations. His kinky 
 hair evidently had had a recent treatment, and 
 was as straight as an Indian's. Each black hair 
 stood on end trembling with outraged dignity as 
 the man darted rapidly around the table, leaving 
 a trail of strong scent in his wake. 
 
 "Doesn't he look like a ceiling brush?" 
 Marian whispered to Esther, who wanted to 
 giggle but caught Mrs. Richards's eye and 
 thought better of it. His head certainly did 
 look as though it had been intended for house- 
 cleaning purposes. 
 
 Mrs. Richards and her daughter Lucile were 
 certainly all that Mrs. Carley had claimed for 
 them. They were a handsome pair, and both of 
 them seemed quite willing to make themselves 
 as agreeable as the occasion required. Mrs. 
 Carley did all in her power to bring to Dr. 
 Wallace's notice the general agreeability of the 
 desirable widow, but Dr. Wallace turned a deaf 
 ear and a blind eye to her machinations. As 
 for Mrs. Richards, she seemed to divine that 
 the physician was shy, and so she confined her 
 attentions to his daughter.
 
 Esther Meets a Fairy Prince 111 
 
 Esther, with a perverseness for which she 
 could not account, refused to respond to the 
 advances of her fellow guest. 
 
 " I don't like her! I don't like her! " she said 
 to herself. " Why, I don't know, but I just 
 don't." 
 
 Her feeling for Lucile was quite different. 
 Marian and Esther, from their fifteen years, 
 looked up with admiration at Lucile's eighteen, 
 while that young woman, from her great age, 
 viewed with amused tolerance the irrepressible 
 giggles that occasionally assailed the younger 
 girls; but with admirable restraint she concealed 
 her condescension. 
 
 In Lucile Richards' handsome black eyes 
 was an expression of mingled repression and 
 ambition. The girl had had a hard life and it 
 was mirrored in her eyes. Poverty and a hand- 
 to-mouth existence had been the rule rather 
 than the exception during her eighteen years, 
 the last two of which had been spent as a pupil- 
 teacher in a fashionable school in New York. 
 Hers had been the task to coach the stupid, 
 backward children of the rich, and for her 
 labors she had received her board and tuition, 
 a well-earned recompense. Girls bored Lucile, 
 especially girls of fifteen. She resented deeply 
 the care-free childhood and girlhood of most of
 
 112 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 the girls of her acquaintance. Why should they 
 have so much and she so little? Why should 
 she have to make herself agreeable whether she 
 felt like it or not? Others did not. It was plain 
 to see that this doctor's daughter did not like 
 her mother and made no effort to be pleasant 
 to her. But she, Lucile Richards, must smile 
 and smirk and be pleasant at all times. She 
 longed intensely for the freedom to be as dis 
 agreeable as she chose: a strange ambition, 
 perhaps, but one that naturally might have 
 developed from a youth of forced smiles.
 
 Chapter 10 
 BRANCHING OUT 
 
 To the disgust of Mrs. Carley, Mr. Carley 
 was succeeding as usual in monopolizing Dr. 
 Wallace. What was the use in asking suitable 
 widows to meet her family physician if his 
 attention was entirely engrossed by his host? 
 By straining her ears she could catch bits of 
 the conversation carried on by the two men. 
 Some of it irritated her, but at some of it she 
 smiled. This was what irritated her: 
 
 " See here, Wallace, you are not looking very 
 fit!" 
 
 " Nor feeling fit either! " 
 
 " Now, old fellow, you know I am some 
 straightener made my fortune straightening 
 things am still making it piling it up! 
 Now, if I am such an adept at straightening 
 wool, I wish you would let me make some sug 
 gestions to you concerning your affairs." 
 
 Why should the man always be bringing in 
 his anti-kink business? Mrs. Carley frowned 
 and sniffed suspiciously as the butler bore down 
 upon her bearing a dainty dish. 
 
 113
 
 114 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Fire away! " laughed the doctor. " I need 
 some advice." 
 
 " You work too hard." 
 
 " I know that, but what am I to do? " 
 
 " In the first place, you must get an assistant 
 some young and promising doctor who will 
 be glad of the chance to hitch on to your coat- 
 tails. Your practice warrants it." 
 
 "Yes, that's so." 
 
 Mrs. Carley smiled at this point. It might 
 be very pleasant to have a nice young man in 
 the immediate neighborhood. So convenient 
 for Marian and Esther, now that they were 
 growing up! 
 
 " Yes, you must have an assistant," Mr. 
 Carley proceeded. * You must also have a 
 chauffeur. Why, man, you waste half your 
 strength attending to your car." 
 
 "Maybe so!" 
 
 "Also, vou must have an office attendant. 
 
 * V 
 
 Why, man, you might be a country doctor in 
 the dark ages for all the conveniences you have. 
 What doctor of your practice do you know who 
 puts up with a one-room office and nobody but 
 an old darkey to answer the telephone? Branch 
 out, man! Branch out!" 
 
 " I don't want to branch out," groaned the 
 doctor. " I am quite content as I am."
 
 Branching Out 115 
 
 " Nonsense! Nonsense! " exclaimed the ener 
 getic straightener of things. " If a practice will 
 grow, it will grow, and nothing but death will 
 stop it. The thing is to take care of its growth. 
 When a boy begins to grow, keeping him in 
 short pants isn't going to keep him from grow 
 ing. He'll burst out of them, and the only 
 decent thing to do is get him some big enough 
 for him. Your practice has passed the short 
 pants stage now, and it is up to you to clothe it 
 properly. Think it over, man, think it over! 
 First, an assistant; then, a chauffeur. Then 
 build an extra room on your house if you 
 haven't space for another office; and then an 
 office attendant to give tone to the place and 
 see that the telephone is properly answered and 
 your accounts kept, and so forth. I bet enough 
 money is owed you this minute to pay for the 
 new office and the attendant's wages for a year, 
 all because you haven't sent out your bills." 
 
 Dr. Wallace looked sheepish. He was slow 
 in getting out his bills. There was no deny 
 ing it. 
 
 " Another thing, you need exercise golf, 
 tennis, walking, anything to keep you young. 
 I'm ten years older than you are, and no one 
 would believe it to look at us. Why is it? 
 Because I don't try to run my business by my-
 
 116 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 self. I get good men under me and pay them 
 to do the work." 
 
 Mrs. Carley could hardly attend to her guests, 
 so busy was she trying to catch all that her 
 husband was saying to her physician. 
 
 She was sure she knew exactly the right 
 chauffeur for the doctor and could send him an 
 office attendant who would fill the bill per 
 fectly. There was nothing that that good lady 
 liked better than to manage other persons' 
 affairs, and now a wonderful opportunity was 
 presenting itself. 
 
 When Dr. Wallace reached home he called 
 Mammy and Esther to him and told them what 
 his neighbor had said to him. 
 
 " It is the truth," he sighed. " I am getting 
 old, and actually find myself falling asleep in 
 my chair. I don't like it at all. Maybe if I 
 got some help, I could find time for golf or 
 something, and it might help some. I wish 
 Carley had let me alone, though. I was getting 
 on well enough before he put such notions in 
 my head." 
 
 " Lawsamussy, Doc Andy, don't git ter 
 talkin* that er way. 'Taint never too late ter 
 patch things up. When folks git ter resentin' 
 bein' 'sturbed, they 'minds me er a ol' man I 
 knowed onct what wa'n't perzactly crazy but ho
 
 Branching Out 117 
 
 had loose notions. He useter git it in his haid 
 he wa' a settin' goose, an' ev'y time anybody 
 tried ter stir him up he'd hiss. Don't take ter 
 hissin', Doc Andy, don't do it ! " 
 
 And so it was decided that Dr. Wallace was 
 to procure an assistant in the shape of a young 
 doctor. And since Mammy refused to have 
 help from her own race, a young woman must 
 be found to look after the office; also, a chauf 
 feur was to be hired, and an addition built to 
 the old house to make more office room. 
 
 Esther resented bitterly the additions to the 
 household and the house. 
 
 " A new office stuck on to our nice old house 
 will ruin the effect, and it will never be the 
 same," she wailed. " Before you know it, we 
 will be looking exactly like the Carleys. And 
 what do we want with a horrid young doctor 
 with a pimply forehead and button shoes lolling 
 around in our house? As for an office girl, why 
 can't I stop school and attend to things? I can 
 draw and paint all the time when the phone isn't 
 ringing or I am making out bills and things. 
 The patients who have to wait would make 
 grand models. I bet anything the girl you get 
 will be calling up beaux on the phone just when 
 people are being born or dying or something 
 and trying to get our number. I am sure she
 
 118 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 will chew gum and stick it in little wads under 
 the desk. The only thing about all these 
 changes that I like is having a chauffeur. I 
 sha'n't like the assistant. I just know it! " 
 
 Dr. Wallace laughed. 
 
 " Suppose I promise that my assistant, 
 whoever he may be, shall not have a pimply 
 forehead, and that I'll be particular about his 
 footgear, although that does not seem so very 
 important to me." 
 
 " But you don't know, Daddy, dear, how 
 terrible it is for your assistant to wear button 
 shoes. It isn't done." 
 
 " Ah, I see." 
 
 " I know you are overworked, but wouldn't it 
 be better just to see the very ill and dying and 
 let the half -sick persons get some other doctor? " 
 
 ' Yes, but Esther, my practice would soon 
 go at that rate. If all of my patients died there 
 wouldn't be any left." 
 
 " But you might take little new-born baby 
 cases, too, and let your practice grow that way. 
 I know it's the people who pretend to be sick 
 that wear you out. Now, isn't it?" 
 
 "Perhaps! But sometimes those persons 
 who pretend to be ill really do get ill, so a 
 physician can't afford to slight them." 
 
 " I reckon I'll have to put up with an assist-
 
 Branching Out 119 
 
 ant then, Daddy, but please, please, get one 
 who can be the prince if we need him in our 
 plays. Marian simply refuses to wear tights 
 any more." 
 
 "What are the requisites for a prince?" 
 
 " Shapely legs, or rather limbs I reckon a 
 prince's legs are limbs and I think a dimple 
 in his chin would be nice." 
 
 " Well, I'll do my best. Now, how about the 
 office girl? " 
 
 " Oh, Daddy, please let me be her I " 
 
 " Nonsense, child! You are only fifteen and 
 must go to school at least four years more." 
 
 " Well, if I must submit, I must, but please, 
 Daddy, don't get a girl who wears beads all the 
 time, and don't let her say Ma'am to me, and 
 don't let her have watery eyes, and don't let her 
 fall in love with the prince. She won't have to 
 live here like the assistant, will she? " 
 
 " No, oh, no ! That would be too hard on us 
 and our circle." 
 
 Dr. Wallace had made a name for himself 
 in his profession, and when it was known that 
 he wanted an assistant, an embarrassment of 
 riches was poured on him worthy young 
 doctors recently graduated from the medical 
 college, and hospital internes who had just com 
 pleted their period of training. So many
 
 120 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 applied it was difficult to choose. All of them 
 seemed such happy, hopeful youths, so ready 
 and willing to have a share in his practice that 
 he was truly sorry not to take every one of 
 them. Remembering Esther's stipulation that 
 the assistant's legs must be shapely so he might 
 take the part of the prince, he found himself 
 scanning the nether ends of the applicants with 
 such diligence that he was sure they would 
 think he was as embarrassed with young men 
 as he was with young women. 
 
 The underpinning belonging to Jim Dudley, 
 a strapping young Kentuckian, claimed his 
 attention. No doubt they would look well in 
 tights, could he be persuaded to don them 
 laced shoes, too! But, of course, something 
 besides mere legs was necessary if he was to 
 trust the young man with a share of his prac 
 tice. He glanced tentatively at the young 
 doctor's countenance. It was quite as pleasing 
 as the legs. A good forehead, no pimples, clear 
 grey eyes, well-set and intelligent, an aristo 
 cratic nose, a humorous mouth which laughed 
 easily and disclosed sound even teeth, and, 
 Heaven be praised, a firm square chin that was 
 saved from aggressiveness by a slight cleft! 
 
 " I fancy it was a dimple when he was a kid," 
 Dr. Wallace said to himself. " I thmk this one
 
 Branching Out 121 
 
 will do. He is so good-looking I can sick him 
 on the female hypochondriacs, thereby saving 
 myself a world of trouble and embarrassment." 
 
 Had young Dr. James Dudley known that 
 his legs and chin had been instrumental in 
 obtaining for him the enviable position of 
 assistant to the much-sought-after Dr. Wallace, 
 he would have been so enraged and humiliated 
 that he would have employed those said legs 
 to carry him out of the community as fast as 
 they could. 
 
 Jim Dudley had never given more than a 
 passing thought to his good looks. Of course 
 he knew he was over six feet, and that his legs 
 and back were straight, and he was glad of it, 
 in that such things had made him eligible for 
 various athletic sports at college. He also knew 
 that the fair sex looked kindly on him. And 
 why shouldn't they? He certainly looked very 
 kindly on them. His manner with all women 
 was perfect. Old ladies adored him, and young 
 ones blushed and dimpled at his approach. Had 
 he known that he was thought to be somewhat 
 flirtatious, the knowledge would have been as 
 much of a mortification as the knowledge of 
 Dr. Wallace's reasons for choosing him as an 
 assistant. But, truth to tell, his kindly atten 
 tion to women was too general to put him in the
 
 122 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 category of a flirt. He was as attentive to the 
 grandmothers as to the granddaughters. 
 
 At the age of twenty-five he was more en 
 grossed in his chosen profession than in all the 
 women in the world. He had ranked well in 
 his class at the University. After graduation 
 he had spent a year in a hospital in New York 
 and then a year in London, and now he had 
 come back to his own country to settle down and 
 make the name for himself that he felt sure of. 
 His outlook was certainly encouraging: well 
 born, well-educated, happy in his profession, 
 anxious to serve, and now his big opportunity 
 had come to him almost immediately after he 
 had decided in which city to settle. He was 
 also singularly blessed, in that his family was 
 rich and he had ample means so that he was not 
 dependent on the whims of hypochondriacs for 
 a living. 
 
 It was rather hard on the other applicants, 
 whose limbs were not so shapely and whose chins 
 not so pleasing, that the young man who was 
 already so well endowed with the world's goods 
 should have been chosen by Dr. Wallace. How 
 ever, Jim Dudley was as much of a favorite 
 with men as with women, and, strange to say, 
 nobody seemed to bear him ill will for being so 
 favored of Fortune.
 
 Branching Out 123 
 
 He was rather nonplussed when he found out 
 that the assistant was supposed to take up his 
 abode with his chief. He had not bargained 
 for that, and much preferred to have an apart 
 ment of his own in the neighborhood. Dr. 
 Wallace, on the other hand, took it for granted 
 that his assistant must be impecunious, as is 
 generally the case with young doctors, and 
 assumed that he would want to reduce his living 
 expenses as much as possible. He had looked 
 into Dr. Dudley's record at the University, and 
 had seen his diploma from London, but the 
 young man's private affairs were of no impor 
 tance to him and he never thought to inquire 
 into them. He was a gentleman, no doubt 
 of that, clean-living and courteous, and fit to 
 come into his home. 
 
 Dr. Wallace still considered his Esther a 
 little child, and the thought never entered his 
 head that he was lacking in prudence in the least 
 in bringing this amazingly handsome young man 
 into his home, Esther had stipulated that his 
 legs must be fit for a prince, and so they were; 
 that his chin must sport a dimple, and behold a 
 cleft, whkfo was a near dimple!
 
 Chapter 11 
 DOCTOR JIM DUDLEY 
 
 Esther helped Mammy arrange the assistant's 
 room. Helping Mammy usually meant getting 
 in her way and talking to her. The old woman, 
 like most capable persons, did not know how to 
 be helped, but lately she often asked Esther to 
 do little things for her, which the girl gladly did. 
 
 " I's still strong an' well, but my eyesight 
 ain't so good as it wa' in the fus' beginning. 
 Now, chiT, you jes' peek aroun' an' see ifn I's 
 lef any dirt a-stickin ter this here departmen'. 
 Doc Dudley seems ter be a moughty tidy young 
 man, an' I don't want him ter come here an' fin' 
 us a-wallowin in filth." 
 
 " It's as clean as clean can be, Mammy, but 
 here's a floor-rag under the bed and a dust-pan 
 on the table." 
 
 " Great Gawd! Jes' s'pose he done come an' 
 catched us alls with sech things a-goin on! 
 Here, chil', gib 'em ter me! I'll have ter count 
 my breshes an' rags an' sich ter see I ain't lef 
 none er them, jes' lak Doc Andy say they have 
 ter do whin they operate 'case one time a 
 
 124
 
 Doctor Jim Dudley 125 
 
 spurgeon done sewed up his spetickles in a man's 
 innards. Now, Miss Esther, please git a clean 
 scarf for the booreau, an' don't you think a lil 
 posey in a vaste on the table would be kinder 
 frien'ly lak? " 
 
 " Why, yes, but there are no flowers in 
 bloom yet but violets and I haven't time to pick 
 a bunch of them." 
 
 " You mought spare him one of Mr. Peter's 
 roses. They's as fraish as they wa' on yo' buth- 
 day, 'cause I done kep' 'em clipped an' changed 
 the water constant." 
 
 " I reckon Peter wouldn't mind," and Esther 
 ran off to get a rose from the big birthday 
 bunch, which was still holding its own after 
 more than a week. 
 
 " There! " she said as she put the little glass 
 vase on the table. " He ought to be right 
 pleased when he sees what a nice room we have 
 fixed up for him. Mammy, I'm awfully sorry 
 he is so old. I kind of hoped Daddy was going 
 to get a right young man. He is really too old 
 to play the prince. Twenty-five is lots too old." 
 
 " Is you saw him yit? " 
 
 " No, but Daddy told me he was about 
 twenty-five. Why, Mammy, by the time I am 
 twenty-five I'll be an old maid, or maybe mar 
 ried. Of course, he will do to play the prince
 
 126 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 if we paint all the deep lines out of his face." 
 ' Why, chil', twenty-five ain't ter say 
 Merthumselah. " 
 
 " No, but it is quite middle-aged. I reckon 
 I'll have to be real respectful to him.*' 
 
 Mammy's faded eyes twinkled. 
 
 " I reckon you will." 
 
 Dr. James Dudley was pleasantly surprised 
 by his new quarters. He was installed about an 
 hour before supper on an evening in late March. 
 It was a very blustering evening, with dashes of 
 rain. His trunk had been delivered earlier in 
 the day; also, a varied collection of hat boxes, 
 bags and suit cases. These were piled up in his 
 room. Mammy grumbled a bit over the quan 
 tity of luggage. 
 
 " Anybody'd think he wa' the Prince er 
 Wale wif all these bags an' baggages. I hope 
 he ain't got no skelingtons a hid in them taninks. 
 I reckon it ain't been so long since he wa' a 
 studient, an' I don't trus' studients til they's 
 been doctors long ernough ter larn how ter 
 *have. When I sees a passel er medicine stu 
 dients, all er them a-trying how tougfc they 
 kin be, I wonders wha' they goes when they 
 gradumates an' wha' the 'spectabfe doctors 
 comes from."
 
 Doctor Jim Dudley ' 127 
 
 The old Grant house was never more attract 
 ive than when, 'in Mammy's phrase, " it wa' 
 weatherin' outside." There was an air of hos 
 pitality and cheer in its very lines. Mammy 
 believed in blazing fires, especially when com 
 pany was coming, and Dr. Dudley was to be 
 company for the first night at least. 
 
 When he arrived, it was a little early for 
 lamps, but the soft coal grates were blazing 
 merrily away. From the front porch he could 
 see into the library, and before he rang the bell 
 he could not resist peeping into the fire-lit room. 
 
 Esther was seated on the hearth rug hugging 
 her knees and gazing in the fire with a wrapt 
 expression. She loved to sit that way and dream 
 before the lamps were lit. 
 
 " I wonder how old she is. I wonder what 
 she is thinking about. Whatever it is, I should 
 not be rubbering in the window this way," and 
 the young man stopped his musings and gave a 
 sharp ring at the bell. 
 
 Esther jumped up from the hearth and beat a 
 hasty retreat. The coming of a stranger into 
 the household was very disquieting to the girl. 
 She hated the thought of having someone around 
 all the time. No matter how nice an oH gentle 
 man a doctor of twenty-five might prove to be, 
 he was nevertheless a stranger and an intruder
 
 128 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 in their home circle. He must be a fussy old 
 gentleman besides, or he would not have so many 
 bags and hat boxes and what not. It was a 
 great bore to be dignified and wear her com 
 pany manners all the time, and she was sure 
 that that would be exacted of her now that this 
 stranger had come among them. No more sit 
 ting on the floor and dreaming; no more sliding 
 down the banisters; no more having breakfast 
 in the kitchen on dark mornings when the fire in 
 the dining-room had a way of smoking and she 
 and her father would plead with Mammy to let 
 them eat their buckwheat cakes there; no more 
 would Mammy serve them on the batter-cake 
 turner directly from the stove without the for 
 mality of useless cake plates. The kitchen had 
 always seemed cheerful and bright, even when 
 the sun did not shine. All that sweet homey 
 life was over now. Mammy would not think 
 it at all meet to have a strange gentleman eating 
 breakfast in the kitchen. 
 
 She wished she had been able to help her 
 father pick out an assistant. She was sure it 
 had not been done well, in spite of the fact that 
 her suggestions concerning legs and chins had 
 been complied with, also button shoes. That 
 must be the new doctor at the door, and she did 
 not like his manner of ringing the bell at all.
 
 Doctor Jim Dudley 129 
 
 What business had he coming to their house like 
 a telegram? She was sorry she had put one of 
 her birthday roses in his room. They were 
 Peter's roses, anyhow. Perhaps Peter would 
 not like her giving one away. If she had time 
 now, she would run up and take it out of the 
 guest chamber which she and Mammy had pre 
 pared so carefully for this person who was so 
 intent on breaking up their happy home. If 
 Mammy would only think it was the telephone 
 ringing and not the front door bell and answer 
 the former, then she would have time to slip up 
 stairs and get her rose back; but the ringing of 
 the bell had been so sharp and peremptory that 
 for once the old woman made no mistake and 
 hastened to the door. 
 
 Esther had to confess that his voice sounded 
 quite pleasant as he spoke to Mammy, apologiz 
 ing for giving such a sharp ring. 
 
 " I was thinking of something else and 
 pressed the button harder than I meant to. I 
 hope you will excuse me." Esther, from her 
 refuge under the stairs, heard him vouchsafe 
 this explanation to Mammy in such a friendly 
 tone that she was sure the old woman was won 
 over. 
 
 " Lawd, sir, I don't make no mind fer that. 
 Wait y, minute an' I'll call Miss Esther to show
 
 130 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 you yo' room. Miss Esther ! Aw, Miss 
 Esther! " But Esther hid behind her father's 
 great coat on the rack under the stairs and 
 refused to harken to the old woman's voice. 
 
 " Whar that chil' ? She wa' here no mo'n a 
 minute ago. Esther, baby, aw, Miss Esther! 
 Nebber min', I'll show you up, sir." 
 
 Mammy had spied an ominous moving under 
 the great coat, and realized that, for some rea 
 son, her child was hiding and was opposed to 
 showing the gentleman up. The old woman had 
 the truly maternal instinct of concealing from 
 the world at large any faults that might develop 
 in her baby. She would no more have let the 
 young man know that her Miss Esther was 
 misbehaving and treating him rudely than a 
 real mother would have done. 
 
 In her heart, the wily Mammy had already 
 begun her plans for a happy marriage for her 
 darling, and who so appropriate as this young 
 doctor if he should prove to be all that her 
 master had reported him to be? Esther must 
 marry and marry happily. Once this was 
 brought about, if the fact of her namelessness 
 should be disclosed, it would not make much 
 difference. Fifteen was not so very young to 
 begin planning. 
 
 This was the very day. fifteen years ago, that
 
 Doctor Jim Dudley 131 
 
 the mysterious bundle had been left on their 
 door-step. It was a lucky day for them, and 
 this stranger arriving on the same day was 
 perhaps a good omen. This flashed through 
 Mammy's mind as she courteously showed the 
 young man up to his room. If only her baby 
 would behave herself and present her most 
 charming side to the young doctor! Mammy 
 would not admit even to herself that all of 
 Esther's sides were not charming, but she felt 
 that perhaps some moods might be a little more 
 desirable than others. It was a bad begin 
 ning refusing to come when she was called and 
 hiding behind the overcoat. If she had only 
 managed to conceal herself more completely it 
 would not have been so bad, but her slender 
 legs and little slippered feet had been in plain 
 view, and then she had wiggled at the wrong 
 moment. Mammy was almost certain the guest 
 had seen the hat-rack shaking in a manner most 
 reprehensible for hat-racks. He may even have 
 glimpsed the black legs that did not in the least 
 resemble the mahogany ones belonging to that 
 piece of furniture, and one would be blind 
 indeed who confused the claw feet of the hat- 
 rack with the shiny patent leather pumps worn 
 by Esther. 
 
 Mammy was sure that the bad beginning was
 
 132 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 due to have a worse ending when Esther failed 
 to appear on time at the supper table. The 
 flustered girl had suddenly decided to become 
 grown up, and had raced off to her room as 
 soon as the unwelcome guest was safely shut 
 up in his chamber. Locking her door, Esther 
 had unbraided her hair and with trembling 
 fingers coiled it on top of her head. Her hair 
 was the kind of hair that arranged itself almost 
 without effort, being full of unexpected waves 
 and curls like a mountain stream. There was 
 no smoothing it. If confined at one point, it 
 found its way out in ripples at another. Look 
 ing at her image critically from all angles, 
 Esther could not but be pleased with the effect. 
 
 Now she could appear as Lady Disdain before 
 this person who had come into their home. She 
 would sail in to supper late, holding herself with 
 great dignity. She could wish her skirts had 
 been a little longer. It was difficult to be dig 
 nified in skirts that just covered one's knees. 
 
 " Let me see! How much of a hem have I? " 
 she mused, critically examining the skirt of the 
 soft brown crepe-de-chine dress she had donned 
 for supper. 
 
 "A good six inches! That will help a lot." 
 With quick snips of the little silver scissors she 
 ripped the hem and shook it out.
 
 Doctor Jim Dudley 133 
 
 "Mercy! I didn't know six inches would 
 make so much difference. I've pretty near got 
 a train," she exclaimed, joyfully. " I reckon 
 the horrid creature won't notice that there is a 
 raw edge at the bottom of my skirt. I'll face it 
 when I get time." Wherewith she began to 
 pace back and forth in front of the mirror prac 
 ticing a dignified tread. 
 
 " I must turn in my neck. All ladies should 
 wear low-necked gowns to supper." With the 
 aid of pins, she lowered the round neck of her 
 dress to the proper decollete line. 
 
 The supper bell had sounded, but she felt her 
 entrance would be much more effective if she 
 was a little late. She would make this person 
 understand that she did not hurry for him.
 
 Chapter 12 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 There was one thing Mammy would not 
 brook in her family of white folks, and that was 
 lateness to meals. 
 
 ' Victuals what is meant ter be hot gits coF, 
 an' victuals what is meant ter be coF gits hot. 
 If Doc Andy is off 'tendin' ter the sick an' 
 sufFerin', that is diffunt, but whin folks ain't 
 got nothin' ter do but come eat I can't see no 
 needcessity whe'fo' they mus' loit." 
 
 On this evening, when Jim Dudley was 
 installed as assistant to Dr. Wallace, Peter 
 Roche was having supper with them, too. Peter 
 always came on the anniversary of his god 
 child's advent into the Wallace household. He 
 seemed to drop in quite casually, and quite 
 casually Mammy always had what she called a 
 " partified supper." By careful clipping and 
 attention, the birthday roses were still fresh 
 enough to give a gala air to the table, and by 
 skillfully adding an extra dish or so to the 
 menu Mammy would bring the meal beyond 
 the standard of a " plain home supper." 
 
 134
 
 A Friend in Need 135 
 
 Jim Dudley was glad his lines had fallen in 
 such pleasant places. He liked Dr. Wallace 
 from the start liked him as a man and re 
 spected him as a physician. He liked the com 
 fortable air of the house, and above all he liked 
 the kindly old servant who had opened the door 
 for him and ushered him up to his pretty room 
 with its antique furniture and oval rag rugs. 
 What a kindly old person she was, so anxious 
 for his comfort and so pleased when he compli 
 mented his room ! Her faded eyes had gleamed 
 with satisfaction when he leant over and smelt 
 the one beautiful rose in the vase on his table. 
 
 " What a wonderful rose ! Might I wear it 
 in my button-hole? " 
 
 " Sho, you kin! " declared Mammy, delight 
 edly. 
 
 'What is your name, Aunty?" inquired the 
 young man in an interested tone. 
 
 " I'm jes' Mammy. I goes by the name of 
 'Ria Johnson, but I comes by jes' Mammy. 
 Supper'll be ready in three shakes." 
 
 There was a mysterious transference of some 
 thing from Jim's hand to Mammy's horny palm, 
 but so quickly and adroitly was it accomplished 
 that had the room been full of eyes, they could 
 hardly hare seen what was going on. This 
 established the young doctor in the good books
 
 136 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 / 
 
 of the old woman. Not the fact that be tipped 
 her but his manner in so doing. 
 
 " A ge'man, a bawn ge'man! He don't let 
 his lef han' see what his right han's a-doin, let 
 alone all the neighbors and fainbly," she 
 chuckled to herself as she dished up the supper. 
 
 The three gentlemen responded to tiie supper 
 bell with alacrity. When Peter and Jim were 
 introduced, the older man had looked at the 
 younger with a searching gaze that might have 
 put him out of countenance had he not been at 
 peace with the world. Jim Dudley had nothing 
 that he could remember to be ashamed of, so 
 why should not stern middle-aged lawyers look 
 at him as though he were in the witness box if it 
 gave them any pleasure? He returned the gaze 
 without flinching. A mischievous instinct almost 
 caused him to wink at Peter as the penetrating 
 eyes of the lawyer looked down into his very soul, 
 but a certain sincerity, almost solemnity, of 
 intentness in the older man's expression kept 
 Jim from this frivolous demonstration of light- 
 hearted youth. 
 
 Peter dropped his eyes finally. Evidently, 
 what he saw deep down in the soul of Jim 
 Dudley pleased him. In leaving the fresh 
 beauty of the young man's face his gaze fell on 
 the tea-rose worn so debonairly in his button-
 
 A Friend in Need 137 
 
 hole. He turned away abruptly, his face and 
 neck suffused with crimson. 
 
 Tea roses always made Peter think of Esther, 
 and to see a gay handsome young man wearing 
 one of these roses in his button-hole with such 
 nonchalance was more than the sensitive Peter 
 could bear. 
 
 " A fool I Nothing but an old fool! " he took 
 himself to task. " The man hasn't even seen 
 Esther yet, more than likely, and here I am 
 fancying things I " 
 
 And so, when the supper bell sounded, the 
 three men responded with alacrity. Jim felt 
 that in some way he had displeased the gentle 
 man whom he designated in his mind as "the 
 apoplectic old cove," and their host had a notion 
 that his friends were not getting along quite so 
 well as he might wish. Supper would looeen 
 up things somewhat, and Esther would be sure 
 to make everybody happy and comfortable. 
 
 " Where is Esther, Mammy? " 
 
 "She comin', Doc Andy, she comin'!" 
 
 Dr. Wallace understood very well from her 
 eager tone that he was being put off. Evi 
 dently Mammy did not know whether Esther 
 was coming or not. 
 
 The guests were seated, and Mammy uncov 
 ered the tempting dishes.
 
 138 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Jes* holp yo'selves," she begged in her most 
 hospitable voice. " I'll leave you, Doc Andy, 
 ter do yo' own reehin' an* go see whar Miss 
 Esther is." 
 
 " All right, Mammy, we'll do our best," 
 laughed her master. 
 
 "Esther, chil'I Miss Esther, baby!" she 
 called up the stairs. 
 
 " Coining, Mammy ! " came after a moment's 
 delay. 
 
 The old woman went back in the room with 
 happy assurance written on her old face. Her 
 baby was not going to misbehave on this impor 
 tant occasion. A squeaking swish was heard in 
 the hall. That meant Esther was expediting 
 matters and making up for lost time by sliding 
 down the banisters. Perhaps she was not going 
 to be as lady-like as Mammy would have her 
 appear at this meeting with the handsome yourf 
 stranger. If only the child could know how 
 important it was, this first impression! 
 
 The hall door opened slowly and Esther lit 
 erally sailed into the room. Her little head 
 with the grown-up chignon was carried high 
 with queenly hauteur. Six inches on the end of 
 her short skirt had brought it down to her 
 ankles. 
 
 Mammy gasped. Peter's mouth, opened to
 
 A Friend in Need 139 
 
 receive a fried oyster, remained opened, the 
 oyster balanced on his fork. Dr. Wallace 
 looked anxiously from his daughter to Mammy. 
 What were the women folks up to? 
 
 Jim Dudley, with the rare intuition that en 
 deared him to the sex supposed to have a corner 
 on intuitions, grasped the situation in a moment. 
 For some reason, this child was pretending to 
 he grown-up. Far be it from him, Jim Dudley, 
 not to humor her. He, too, had gone through 
 the fairy story period and had formed a picture, 
 when a boy, of a beautiful princess with hair 
 like the sunshine. Here she was! 
 
 "My daughter, Esther, Dr. Dudley," fal 
 tered poor Dr. Wallace. 
 
 Esther made a low curtsy, not the little jerky 
 kind taught to children, but a deep slow sinking 
 kind used in the minuet. She had practiced it 
 for court scenes in the fairy-tale plays, and had 
 mastered the art of coming down very grace 
 fully, sitting on one foot for two beats of the 
 music and then gradually getting up. Cer 
 tainly, getting down gracefully was much easier 
 than rising, but she was sure she could do both. 
 However, she had not made allowance for the 
 six extra inches on her skirt. The soft clinging 
 material wrapped itself around her foot and 
 when two beats were up she could not budge.
 
 140 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 O her entrance Jim had sprung from his 
 iieat, and as his host introduced him to his 
 daughter, he had gone forward, not in the least 
 embarrassed by the girl's theatrical advance and 
 curtey, although she did not deign to look at 
 him. He, too, as a youth, had danced the 
 minuet and acted in private theatricals, but 
 whether he had or not, Jim Dudley's social 
 graces would have stood him in good stead when 
 there was a problem of conduct to be faced. No 
 powdered, bewigged courtier in velvet cloak and 
 plumed hat could have made a lower bow. With 
 hand on heart he bent over as gracefully as any 
 prince in any fairy tale. 
 
 It was a little awkward when his fair partner 
 stayed down so long. The cavalier is supposed 
 to bow until the lady gets through. "He agreed 
 with Mammy that hot food should not be 
 allowed to get cold nor cold food hot, but no 
 matter how much he longed to get back to the 
 good supper which he had left to enter into the 
 spirit of the game with this child, etiquette for 
 bade his straightening up until the lady finished 
 curtsying. 
 
 " My foot caught " she whispered in a 
 tone meant for him alone. 
 
 He took her by the hand. 
 
 "Arise, princess!" With a strong pull he
 
 A Friend in Need 141 
 
 helped her up, and with an adroit kick she 
 loosened the imprisoned foot. 
 
 As she regained her footing she looked for the 
 first time at the young physician. 
 
 " The prince ! " she gasped. 
 
 " Hast thou finished the seven shirts of star 
 flowers? " he asked, taking her by the hand and 
 leading her to her seat. No waiter on a Missis 
 sippi steamboat could have pulled back a chair 
 with a more elegant air than did Jim Dudley. 
 His eyes were full of laughter, but he kept a 
 sober countenance until Esther herself burst 
 into a hearty ringing laugh. 
 
 " Not yet and oh, the poor swans ! I have 
 broken my vow of silence and they can never be 
 free." 
 
 " Well, please don't begin all over." 
 
 "Just think that you are him!" 
 
 " He! " corrected Dr. Wallace. The old phy 
 sician had observed the tableau, but he did not 
 in the least understand what Esther and his 
 assistant were talking about. But whatever it 
 was, there was no use in saying " him " for 
 " he." Esther was always play-acting, and if the 
 young doctor, brought into the household to 
 make it possible for him to play golf, wanted 
 to play-act with her, why, so much the better. 
 He could be a good doctor and of great assist-
 
 142 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ance, even if the daughter of the bouse did 
 choose to call him prince. 
 
 It was settled. Jim and Esther were friends. 
 From the moment he put out his strong hand 
 and helped her disentangle her imprisoned foot 
 she knew she was going to like him even 
 before she knew he was the prince of the 
 twisted mulberry tree. Had he saved her life, 
 she could not have been more grateful. To 
 drown in the ocean could not be any more ter 
 rible than the humiliation of the position from 
 which she had just been rescued, especially as 
 she had meant to be so grown-up and dignified. 
 Even Peter was ready to laugh at her, and 
 Mammy showed plainly that she highly dis 
 approved of such carryings on. As for her 
 father, she well knew he would have teased her 
 unmercifully had things not turned out as well 
 as they did. 
 
 "Hungry, daughter?" he asked, looking at 
 her with ill-concealed admiration. 
 
 "Starved!" 
 
 She forgot all about being grown up. 
 
 What a merry time they had at that supper! 
 Peter stopped glaring at the rose in Jim Dud 
 ley's button-hole, and listened with interest to 
 that young man's account of life in London. 
 Esther's advent seemed to have put all three
 
 A Friend in Need 143 
 
 men at their ease. Child of fifteen though she 
 was, she had a rare social gift the gift of 
 making people comfortable and happy. Some 
 times Dr. Wallace would remember what 
 Mammy had said when the baby was left on his 
 doorstep about its being a mascot and he 
 wondered if it could be true. Would good luck 
 always follow in her footsteps? Would it be 
 good luck for her as well as the persons with 
 whom she dwelt? 
 
 Mammy went in and out from kitchen to 
 dining-room, and had the ones at the table 
 looked at her, they would have seen a touch of 
 elation in her bearing. 
 
 " I couldn't er planned it better," she mut 
 tered when she was out of earshot. 
 
 " You wa' scairt ter death," put in her alter 
 ego of the querulous tones. 
 
 " Scairt 1 'Co'se I wa' scairt. But he is took 
 wif the chiT an' she is done los' her grudge 
 'ginst him. Whin she come a-prancin in, lookin' 
 lak her clo's wa' a comin' off, I 'lowed she done 
 broke her 'lasses pitcher then an' thar, but I wa' 
 mistook. I wa' mistook. Mascots don't nebber 
 break they 'lasses pitchers plum in two. They 
 drops 'em an' pretty nigh busses 'em, but they 
 manages ter keep from crackin' 'em open some 
 how. Gawd be praised!"
 
 144 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ' Well, I'm edified ter hear you praisin' 
 Gawd. Looked ter me lak you wa' a-praisin a 
 ol' nigger woman I knows." 
 
 " Shot Sho! So I wa', but it is the good 
 Gawd," was her cheerful rejoinder as she 
 turned out a mold of hot Sally Lunn and car 
 ried it triumphantly to the table.
 
 Chapter 13 
 THE TOO-PERFECT ATTENDANT 
 
 Mammy was certainly growing cantankerous. 
 The stream of young girls who were employed 
 by Dr. Wallace to look after his office bore 
 witness to the fact. They stayed such a short 
 time, either because they did not suit Mammy 
 or Mammy did not suit them, that the poor 
 doctor never could remember the name of the 
 incumbent. 
 
 " Call they selves keepin' keer of the office! 
 Huh! If sweepin' dirt under the rugs an' jes' 
 slappin' the furnisher with a dirty rag is keepin' 
 keer, they do it, an' that's 'bout all they do do. 
 I been allus a-thinkin nigger gals wa' no 'count 
 but they ain't a patchin' on white gals." 
 
 ' Well, what can you suggest? " asked Dr. 
 Wallace, wearily. " How about getting a 
 colored boy? He could help you and look after 
 the office telephone, too, and as for the accounts, 
 Dr. Dudley and I can attend to them." 
 
 " Lawd love us, Doc Andy, don't git no lazy, 
 triflin' male nigger boy here. My eyes is pretty 
 near give out as they is, an' if I got ter be 
 
 145
 
 146 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 a-spyin arfter a nigger boy, they won't be no 
 seein' lef in 'em 'tall. If you want ter know 
 what I thinks 'bout office help, I'll tell yer." 
 
 " I do want to know." Doctor Wallace had 
 infinite patience with the old woman. He well 
 knew that her crossness and nervousness were 
 caused by the condition of her eyes. The cata 
 racts were developing, and nothing makes one 
 more nervous than being unable to see. He 
 hoped that the time was near when he could 
 have an operation performed on her eyes, and 
 then he felt sure she would be herself again. 
 In the meantime, he must bear with her 
 peculiarities. He was more than willing to 
 employ any help necessary. In fact, he begged 
 her to let him get a cook and housemaid to look 
 after the arduous duties, letting her superin 
 tend the housekeeping, but she would not 
 hear of it. 
 
 " Not so long as I kin crope aroun' an' feel 
 the dirt if I cyarn't see it," she said. " I knows 
 how ter cook in the dark an' 'twon't be long 
 now 'fo' these canteracks will be ripe fer pullin'. 
 It does look hard that they done attackt my 
 good eye, too the one I been all time a-seein 
 with. This here lef eye ain't never been ter 
 say much. 'Cose, I kin look with it but I ain't 
 never been able ter see much with it. The right
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant 147 
 
 one's allus been doin' the work an' now it's done 
 got inter trouble. 
 
 " Now, speakin' of office help, Doc Andy, if 
 you listen ter me I'll tell you what is the male- 
 faction in yo' 'rangements. You is been a-gittin 
 gals what ain't had no raisin' ter speak of. 
 They thinks they is too good ter sile they han's, 
 an' still they ain't got since enough in their 
 haids ter make a livin' wif 'em. You know, that 
 las' one what call herse'f Immerjean Maud 
 couldn't hardly write down the names er yo' 
 patients, but was allus a polishin' up her nails 
 an' greasin' up her mouf wif that there pink 
 tallow an' hel' herse'f ter be too good ter dus' 
 off the mantel. All she wanted ter do was fix 
 herse'f up ter catch Doc Dudley. All of 'em is 
 been arfter him, tooth an' toe nail." 
 
 Doctor Wallace smiled. It was plain to all 
 beholders that the many office girls who had 
 come and gone were of one mind concerning the 
 handsome young Kentuckian. He seemed to 
 be the only one unconscious of the fact that 
 they might have neglected their duties. They 
 never neglected him. 
 
 Mammy had observed this and sternly dis 
 approved of their various wiles. She had a 
 secret fear that one of them might catch the 
 young physician, and she had made other plans
 
 148 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 for him. She watched with delight the growing 
 friendship between Esther and him. 
 
 " No beau lovin' jes' plain gib an' take 
 likin'," she would say to herself. ' The bes' 
 foundation fer matermony." 
 
 But should one of these wretched office girls 
 catch his affections before her baby had reached 
 a suitable age for the desirable young man, 
 the old woman felt she would never forgive 
 herself. At any moment a designing wretch 
 might turn up who would snatch the prize from 
 under the very nose of her darling. Mammy 
 had hit on a solution for this difficulty. 
 
 " Whe'fo', Doc Andy, you don't stop tryin' 
 ter git a gal an' git a growed-up 'ooman what is 
 got since enough in her haid ter use her ban's? 
 That's what me and Mrs. Carley thinks. 
 Th' ain't ter say much wuck ter do in the office, 
 bein' as I sees that it gits a tho'eh cleanin' onct 
 a week, an' the res' of the time jes' a lil goin' 
 over wif a rag is all that is 'quired an' that ain't 
 needcessitatin' much stren'th. I reckon they is 
 many a pleasant-faced lady what is seen better 
 days who wouldn't min' a-settin thar wif her 
 tattin' an' answerin' the phome an' makin' out 
 the bills. If'n she is a sho nuf lady she'll jes' 
 nachelly keep things tidy. Mrs. Carley say 
 she knows one."
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant 149 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Mammy. I'll see 
 what can be done." 
 
 Dr. Dudley's coming had relieved the older 
 man somewhat, but the practice was growing 
 steadily and now both men were kept busy. An 
 office assistant was quite necessary to them. 
 The young girls who had been selected from 
 among those who had answered the newspaper 
 advertisement did not prove any more satisfac 
 tory to them than they did to Mammy. Per 
 haps an older woman would be just the thing. 
 
 He determined to consult Mrs. Carley, to 
 that lady's huge delight. 
 
 " Indeed, I do know the very person! You 
 know her, too met her in this very house. 
 Don't you remember Mrs. Richards? Such a 
 pleasant person, with a handsome daughter 
 named Lucile! Lucile is off in New York 
 teaching at such a fashionable school. She is 
 quite a clever girl, so industrious and satisfac 
 tory. Her mother is very proud of her daugh 
 ter, and well she might be. Mrs. Richards is a 
 widow and so deserving. She does such beauti 
 ful needlework I am sure she would be the 
 very person you want." 
 
 Dr. Wallace could not see how needlework 
 would help him, but he was willing to take 
 Mrs. Carley's word for it that Mrs. Richards
 
 150 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 was the person of all others to fill with credit 
 the position of office attendant to himself and 
 Dr. Dudley. 
 
 " Surely you must remember her, Dr. Wal 
 lace. She was here the evening Mr. Carley 
 persuaded you to get an assistant, a chauffeur 
 and an office attendant. She was quite im 
 pressed by Esther. Raved over her, in fact. 
 I thought at the time that Mrs. Richards would 
 be the very person to take charge of your office, 
 but she had a position at the time, so I did not 
 mention it. I remember I suggested a chauf 
 feur to you Mike. I do hope he is satis 
 factory." 
 
 " Perfectly so, madam! All of us like Mike. 
 And now, if you will see this lady and offer 
 her the place I shall be more than grateful. I 
 am sorry I can't remember her, but then " 
 
 " Ah, yes, I know, Dr. Wallace, you pay 
 very little attention to well women. I'll see her 
 immediately." 
 
 Mrs. Richards accepted with alacrity and in 
 short order was installed as office attendant. 
 She was a handsome woman of about forty. 
 There was a nun-like simplicity about her neat, 
 perfectly-fitting gowns. Her manner was quiet, 
 with a certain poise and dignity. She did little 
 talking but attended assiduously to her duties.
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant 151 
 
 The office was spotless; the accounts were 
 kept with perfect accuracy; the telephone was 
 answered courteously, and information was 
 given in a thoroughly business-like way. Mrs. 
 Richard's manner to her employer left nothing 
 to be desired. She divined his feelings in regard 
 to women and his embarrassment in their 
 presence, and was careful to efface herself as 
 much as possible. She never addressed him 
 unless she had some business to discuss with him, 
 and then she approached him with quiet dignity 
 and modesty. When she was not occupied with 
 office work she embroidered exquisite tiny 
 flowers on baby caps. She had a standing order 
 with some great department store for all of 
 these little caps that she could make. 
 
 Mrs. Richard's coming certainly made life 
 much easier for Dr. Wallace. He found him 
 self relying on her more and more. She was 
 as regular as clockwork, neat and orderly, and 
 seemed to understand his needs without receiv 
 ing special instructions. Jim Dudley liked her. 
 Mammy had no fault to find with her. Only 
 Esther had an unaccountable distrust of this office 
 assistant. She could not tell why it was, but 
 from the beginning the girl had a feeling almost 
 of fear of this calm, quiet, lady-like woman, 
 who had only courteous words for everybody
 
 152 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 and whose one desire seemed to be to please the 
 household and do her duty. 
 
 " She looks like she is waiting for something," 
 Esther said to herself, " kind of like a grey 
 snake coiled up in the grass ready to strike. 
 I know I'm a beast to think so when everybody 
 else is crazy about her. I know she is wonder 
 ful for Daddy and makes life easier for him. 
 I know Jim thinks she is just bully, because he 
 said so. I know Mammy has no fault to find 
 with her I know the Carleys like her, espe 
 cially Mr. Carley but but I don't like 
 her voice I don't like her eyes I don't 
 like the way she holds the baby caps when she 
 sticks the needle in and out. She never thinks 
 about the little baby that is going to wear the 
 cap. I believe she would not at all mind stick 
 ing the needle in the baby. There is something 
 in her eye that tells me so. All she thinks 
 about is the money she will make on the cap. 
 She hates me, too! I know it by the way she 
 looks at me with her eyebrows raised and her 
 nose a bit pinched in. She tries not to show 
 it, but I can tell. I reckon she hates me because 
 her own daughter, Lucile, has to teach for her 
 tuition. I'm glad I'm not Lucile. I'd rather 
 have my own dear, dead mother, with her warm, 
 sweet heart, loving everybody the way Mammy
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant 153 
 
 said she did, than a mother like Mrs. Richards 
 with her efficient ways and her cold heart that 
 would just as soon stick needles in babies' heads 
 as in their caps. I bet if Mammy could see 
 as well as she used to, she wouldn't like her 
 either. I am almost sure Mammy doesn't like 
 her voice. I can tell it by the way she cocks 
 her head on one side when Mrs. Richards is 
 speaking. I know I am bad to feel this way. 
 I know I should try to like her, but somehow 
 I don't want to like her. I am as bad not to 
 like her as she is not to like me, and I am just 
 like her because I don't want anybody to know 
 how much I hate her. And now Daddy is going 
 to have her take dinner with us every day 
 because he is so kind and good and wants to 
 save her the trouble and the money. I can't 
 bear to think of having her around all the time. 
 She is so creepy and so mousy. I know she is 
 pretty and her clothes fit mighty well. I know 
 she is a poor widow who has worked and slaved 
 to give her daughter all sorts of advantages. I 
 know she is deserving of all praise, but I just 
 don't like her, and I'd rather have our nice old 
 house to ourselves. She breaks up our home. 
 That's sure, and nobody seems to know it but 
 me. I don't see how Mammy and Jim can like 
 her the way they do. Of course, Daddy doesn't
 
 154 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 care about her one way or the other. He just 
 finds she saves him trouble. Sometimes, I think 
 maybe Mammy is just pretending to like her, 
 because she is the one who advised Daddy to 
 get a grown-up person for the office and stop 
 trying girls. Of course, Mammy likes to be 
 right, and if she didn't like Mrs. Richards, that 
 would prove she was wrong. If there is any 
 thing I hate, it is a person whom you just 
 naturally dislike but who never gives you any 
 reason for hating her. The more I dislike Mrs. 
 Richards, the more perfect she is. If only I 
 can be polite to her always and never let her 
 know how I feel ! " 
 
 Esther had many such communings with 
 herself. Sometimes she took herself to task 
 severely for her dislike of the inoffensive Mrs. 
 Richards; at other times she encouraged the 
 feeling by finding excuses for her unreasonable 
 hatred. She never entered the office if she knew 
 Mrs. Richards was there, although, before that 
 lady's advent into the household, the girl had 
 preferred that room to any one in the house 
 and had spent many hours curled up on the old 
 leather couch, reading and dreaming of fairy 
 lore. Dr. Wallace had liked to have her there, 
 but he had grown so busy that he did not seem 
 to notice her absence.
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant 155 
 
 At dinner, the one meal that Mrs. Richards 
 took with them, Esther was always very quiet. 
 She sometimes made a point of coming late, 
 but this annoyed Mammy so much that she 
 could not do it often. At all other times she 
 was full of life and spirits, talking and laugh 
 ing, joking with her father and Jim, teasing 
 Mammy, bubbling over with fun and happiness 
 as gay as a bobolink^ The sedate young lady 
 who appeared at dinner was a contrast to the 
 little hoyden who charmed them at breakfast 
 and supper. 
 
 If Mrs. Richards knew of the effect she had 
 on her employer's daughter, she said nothing 
 about it. The girl was always scrupulously 
 polite, but she seldom addressed a remark to 
 the older woman, and if she did, it was always 
 couched in the most formal language. 
 
 " Whe'fo' you don't cotton ter Mis' Richards, 
 honey chil'?" Mammy asked one day when 
 Esther got in late to dinner and begged Mammy 
 to let her have that meal in the kitchen. 
 
 ' What makes you ask that, Mammy? Don't 
 I behave well to her? " 
 
 " Sho, yo' 'haves too well. You is that prissy 
 an' proudified whin you is fo'ced ter talk ter 
 her that you 'minds me er playin' lady-come- 
 ter-see wif the preacher's wife."
 
 156 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Do you like her, Mammy? " Esther left 
 the kitchen table, where she had finished her 
 dinner, and perched herself on Mammy's lap. 
 Big girl that she was, every now and then she 
 got in the old woman's lap. Those were 
 moments of infinite bliss to Mammy. She held 
 the girl close in her arms, and went over in 
 her mind the precious babyhood of her loved 
 one. " Cross-your-heart-and-hope-you-may-die, 
 Mammy, do you really and truly like Mrs. 
 Richards?" 
 
 "Well, now " 
 
 " Cross your heart and then cross my heart 
 now!" ' 
 
 "You see " 
 
 " No, I don't see. Do you like her looks? " 
 
 ' Well, honey baby, I ain't able ter see mo'n 
 jes' a kinder blur wha folkses' faces is both 
 my eyes is actin' up but that blur is tollable 
 putty." 
 
 " Poor Mammy! Never mind, soon that will 
 be .all right. Well, I'll tell you how she looks. 
 She is pretty, with a good nose, and a mouth 
 that is good enough, except she keeps it shut 
 too tight. Her hair is nice and smooth and 
 well brushed; and her teeth are even and well 
 brushed, too, I guess; and her dress is good 
 and also well brushed; and her shoes are small
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant '157 
 
 and neat. But, Mammy, you can hear better 
 than anybody I know of, so tell me this and 
 cross your heart again, Mammy do you like 
 her voice? " 
 
 ' Well, I don't ter say admire it much. It's 
 a business-lak voice, an' I reckon she kin make 
 them phome centrals stan' aroun' whin she jaws 
 'em, but I ain't ter say keerin' much 'bout her 
 talkin' voice. Seems ter me lak I done hearn 
 a voice lak it onct a long time ergo, but I 
 cyarn't spot it. She don't never talk loud wif 
 it, but sometimes it looks ter me lak she's got 
 a bridle $n it a-holding it in." 
 
 "Exactly! And that is just what I don't 
 like about her. She is too unnatural. Mammy, 
 I have felt so bad about being the only one who 
 doesn't like her, and now I feel so much better. 
 You are with me." 
 
 " But, chil', I never said sich a thing." 
 
 " No, but you implied as much." 
 
 "I never 'plied nothin'! Here, git off my 
 lap an' let me wash up them dishes. You ain't 
 a gonter make me c'mit myself." 
 
 * You don't have to, you old precious ! Don't 
 you know that I know you? Do you like 
 Jim?" 
 
 " Who, Doc Dudley? Sho I likes him. He's 
 the salt er the vearth."
 
 158 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " See! When you like anybody, you come 
 out with it and don't hem and haw. I caught 
 you up, Mammy I" 
 
 "But, chiP, she is sho a he'p ter yo' paw an' 
 Doc Jim Dudley. That there ought ter make 
 us lak her some." 
 
 " I know that, Mammy, but the more she 
 helps them the less I like her. That's just how 
 bad I am, Mammy, and you are just like me. 
 But, Mammy, we are going to be as good as 
 gold and not say a word about it. I'll be polite, 
 but I won't love her. I don't want to love her, 
 and I'm glad she doesn't like me." 
 
 "Whe'fo' you say that? " 
 
 " Because she doesn't. I can tell. Does 
 she like you? " 
 
 " Lawd, chil', I ain't nothin' but a oP nigger 
 'ooman, an' it ain't no min' ter nobody whether 
 she laks me or not, but she ain't got no cause ter 
 treat you ugly." 
 
 ' Why, Mammy, she treats me beautifully. 
 She is as lovely to me as I am to her. That's 
 what I hate about it. I'd rather she would 
 turn up her nose at me. Then I could bite my 
 thumb at her instead of pretending all the time. 
 Does she treat you well?" 
 
 " She sho is! She is very politeful ter me, 
 but I don't never have no words wif her one
 
 The Too-Perfect Attendant 159 
 
 way or tother. I kinder think she ain't much 
 of a nigger-lover, but s'long as I does my wuck 
 an' she does hern I reckon we'll git along. 
 Whin I gits these canteracks cut offn my eyes, 
 I'll tell you what I thinks 'bout her looks 
 not that looks makes so much diffunce whin I 
 laks folks. What does Mr. Peter think about 
 her-? Does x he lak her?" 
 
 " I don't know. Peter is so dumb, there is 
 never a chance of getting anything out of him. 
 Of course he doesn't see her often because she 
 is gone when he comes to call in the evening. 
 I reckon he likes her well enough. Jim thinks 
 she is fine, and, I believe, wishes I'd be more 
 like her. I'll see myself! "
 
 Chapter 14 
 A MONOLOGUE ON LOVE 
 
 When a young doctor is blessed with comeli 
 ness and charm and an exquisitely deferential 
 manner with all women old and young, no 
 matter how much he may be in love with his 
 profession, society will claim him for its own. 
 Jim Dudley was besieged by society. There 
 was no escaping it. If he got by the daughters, 
 the mammas nabbed him. Fathers, sons and 
 brothers joined forces with their womenkind. 
 If he had not possessed a character in which 
 level-headedness was united with innate 
 modesty, the young man would certainly have 
 been ruined by the adulation he received from 
 the four hundred of that southern city in which 
 he was now a rising figure. 
 
 Always having been sought after more or 
 less, Jim Dudley looked upon his social suc 
 cesses with calm indifference. He accepted 
 invitations when it suited him, but declined 
 them, when he chose, with perfect nonchalance. 
 He rarely consented to dine away from home, 
 frankly preferring the jolly little suppers with 
 
 160
 
 A Monologue on Love 161 
 
 his senior partner and Esther. Mammy always 
 cooked well, but on those suppers she seemed 
 to outdo herself. 
 
 " I ain't a been caterin' ter men-folks all my 
 life fer notliin'. I knows what they likes an' 
 whin they likes it. Men folks ain't a gonter 
 take ter eatin' away from home lessen they is 
 unsatisfied," she remarked to herself one evening 
 when she had heard Dr. Dudley refuse an 
 invitation to dinner at the country club. 
 " Thank Gawd, I had bakin an' fried apples 
 ternight. Doc Dudley sho is partiam ter bakin 
 an' fried apples." 
 
 * You air scairt Doc Dudley will fall in love 
 wif one er them sassiety gals," scoffed the voice 
 that fell into a querulous note. 
 
 " No sich a thing! They air too many er 
 them fer him ter settle on one. His heart air 
 fixed on my chiT. How does I know it? I 
 knows it by the way he pass her the taters I 
 knows it by the way he ax her fer mo' sugar in 
 his coffee whin she already done put in two 
 lumps." 
 
 ' You knows a lot fer a ign'rant ol' nigger! " 
 in scoffing tone. 
 
 'Yes, I knows a lot! Book larnin' ain't 
 ev'ything. I knows Doc Jim Dudley air sick 
 an' tired er all these here white gals an' they
 
 162 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 maws a-phomin an* writin ter him. * Come Mon 
 day I ' " she mimicked. " * 'Gagement? Too bad! 
 Thin make it Chewsday! 'Nother 'gagement? 
 Wednesday'll do,' an' so on til Kingdom Come. 
 'Cose, it air all good fer business in a way, but 
 Doc Jim Dudley ain't stuck on that a way er 
 gittin' custom. They is gals an* growed women, 
 too, in this here town what is so took up wif 
 Doc Jim Dudley that if he 'nounced he wa* a 
 gonter gib up gin'ral practice an' take ter curin' 
 nothin' but the seben years' itch, they would 
 come a-scratchin." 
 
 " Oh, go long, nigger! " 
 
 " Now, my Esther baby, she don't lower 
 herse'f none ter him nor nobody else. She 
 air lak one er these here water lilies what close 
 its petals up whin things gits too hot fer it. 
 All the time, though, her heart am pu' gol', 
 pu' gol' jes lak a water lily," 
 
 Three years had passed since Jim Dudley's 
 lace shoes had combined with his unblemished 
 forehead and cleft chin to place him as assist 
 ant to the popular Dr. Wallace. The partner 
 ship had been a pleasant and profitable one. 
 The friendship between the two men had grown 
 strong and sincere. With Esther, Jim took 
 the big-brother attitude somewhat, although at 
 times he was acutely conscious that it was a
 
 A Monologue on Love 163 
 
 false attitude. He had sisters of his own, and 
 knew very well that his feeling for them was 
 not quite the same as the one he had for Esther. 
 To be sure, they were older than he, hut even 
 had they been younger he was certain he would 
 not have had quite the tenderness for them that 
 he had for his little friend. Never would he 
 have thought of them as fairy princesses. 
 
 Esther was no longer a child. The men of 
 the household did not realize it, but Mammy 
 understood and resented bitterly the failing 
 eyesight that kept her from enjoying the 
 increasing beauty that she was sure must shine 
 from her darling's countenance. 
 
 Beauty did shine therefrom, beauty and 
 charm and sweetness. She was not a whit 
 spoiled by the fact that the girls of her set all 
 adored her. Nor did she lose any of her unaf 
 fected girlishness because of the many callow 
 youths who came ringing Dr. Wallace's door 
 bell on the evenings of the week when school 
 did not hold and girls of her age were per 
 mitted visitors. Dr. Dudley did not approve 
 at all of these boy beaux who buzzed around 
 his little princess. 
 
 ' You are entirely too young for such fool 
 ishness," he declared one Friday night when the 
 last caller had reluctantly departed.
 
 164 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "What foolishness?" asked Esther, yawning 
 prodigiously as she helped Mammy bring in the 
 porch cushions. Mammy always sat up until 
 her baby was safely tucked in bed. 
 
 ' Why, the idea of that ridiculous little boy's 
 making love to you! That's 'what foolish 
 
 ness.' 
 
 " Do you mean Willie? What an old goose 
 you are, Jim! Why, Willie wasn't making 
 love to me he was just talking love. Willie 
 has no idea what love is. Of course he will 
 learn, but while he is learning, he will have to 
 talk a lot about it. It does him good, and it 
 doesn't hurt me a bit. If it annoyed you so, 
 why did you hang around?" 
 
 " Because I think you are too young not to 
 have a a chaperon." 
 
 Esther laughed joyously, and Mammy gave 
 a little chuckle as she closed the green parlor 
 blinds and discreetly betook herself to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " I wouldn't call you a chaperon, Jim. How 
 would dragon do a dragon of propriety? Do 
 you go along as chaperon on all those parties 
 you get invited to? No wonder you are in 
 such demand." 
 
 Jim grinned and determined to accept no 
 more invitations for non-school evenings.
 
 A Monologue on Love 165 
 
 " You say Willie doesn't know what love is 
 do you know?" 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 Esther had started up the steps, but she 
 leaned over the banisters, her face on a level 
 with the young man's. They both thought of 
 the first time they had met by the twisted 
 mulberry tree. 
 
 ' You see, Jim, there are all kinds of love. 
 There is the kind of love I have for my father, 
 which is just part of me. Of course I love my 
 father and of course he loves me. Sometimes 
 when I am loving him the most I tease him a 
 little just to make up and have him hug me. 
 Then there is the kind of love I have for 
 Mammy. That is a kind of selfish love, I am 
 afraid, because Mammy does so much more for 
 me than I do for her. I reckon Mammy knows 
 more about real love than any of us, because 
 her love is all expressed in doing things for 
 people. Do you know, Jim, I believe Mammy 
 would even commit a crime for her white folks, 
 even if she thought she would be eternally 
 damned for it. Willie, poor boy, thinks that 
 sitting on the front steps in the moonlight with 
 some girl is love, but he will learn better." 
 
 Somewhat ill at ease, Jim listened patiently 
 to Esther's naive discourse.
 
 166 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 / 
 "And what other kinds of love are there?" 
 
 he said at last. 
 
 " There is the kind I have for my mother, 
 which somehow has always been the realest 
 thing of all, although I never saw her not 
 even a picture of her. But I know a lot about 
 her. Mammy told me all she could remember, 
 and I know how she looked because one time I 
 made a portrait of her that Mammy and Daddy 
 both recognized. My love for my mother is a 
 kind of religion to me," she said softly. 
 
 " Then there is Peter, dear old Peter. To 
 say you love Peter is kind of like saying you 
 love bread and butter. He is substantial, just 
 like bread and butter. You can't do without 
 him, and would find out how much you loved 
 him only if he were taken away from you 
 just as you'd miss bread and butter if you 
 had to have caramel cake for breakfast. Then 
 there is Marian and all the girls. Of course, 
 some of them are caramel-cakish and you 
 wouldn't want a steady diet of them. Then 
 there is Mike, dear Mike! Who could help 
 loving him? 
 
 ' Then there is another big love that takes in 
 everybody and everything the lame dogs on 
 the street and the sick cat in the alley, the 
 dirty-faced little children and the poor sad
 
 r A Monologue on Love 167 
 
 women, and the poor bad men, and the flowers, 
 even the weeds, and the bugs and beasts, the 
 sunshine and the rain, everything and every 
 body at least, most everybody. Of course, 
 there are some people you just can't love." 
 
 "And where do I come in?" He covered 
 her little hand with his as it rested on the railing. 
 " It seems to me you have mentioned every 
 body of your acquaintance but me. Am I 
 merely in the general scheme of things? Am 
 jl in the miscellaneous list along with the alley 
 cats?" 
 
 " Oh, no, Jim! You are a fabulous monster, 
 a dragon, and have a list all to yourself." 
 
 She slipped her hand from under his and 
 ,ran lightly up the stairs. He stood for a 
 moment clinging to the banister as though her 
 hand were still prisoned in his. He sighed 
 audibly as he mounted the steps to his room. 
 
 Mammy emerged from the dining-room, 
 where her sharp ears had caught most of the 
 conversation between Jim and her young charge. 
 She locked the front door, turned out the light, 
 and then felt her way along the hall to the 
 back stairs. As she ascended to her room she 
 chuckled delightedly. 
 
 " Doc Jim Dudley, you air got ter be nimble 
 come trimble ter ketch up wif my Esther baby."
 
 Chapter 15 
 FINDING A NAMESAKE 
 
 Upper Garden Street was quite different 
 from lower Garden Street different both 
 topographically and socially. In the upper 
 stretches of the street, many a stately mansion 
 reared its head. There lived what Mammy 
 proudly called " the nablehood." The old Grant 
 house had at one time been the handsomest 
 place on the block, and in point of architecture 
 and front yard, it still was nothing to be 
 ashamed of. But newer and finer homes had 
 been built on all sides, which flaunted their 
 newness and grandeur in the faces of the 
 passers-by. The old house bore the look of a 
 sweet Quaker lady in an assemblage of over 
 dressed dames. 
 
 Upper Garden Street gave a sudden dip and 
 a quirk to the right, narrowed itself, and behold, 
 Lower Garden Street 1 The houses took a 
 tumble quite as precipitous as the street. No 
 more mansions were visible, hardly a two-story 
 house nothing but cottages, at first neat and 
 prosperous, but gradually getting shabbier and 
 
 168
 
 Finding a Namesake 169 
 
 more unkempt as the street approached the 
 river. 
 
 Within a hundred feet of the river this 
 changeable street did another wonderful thing. 
 Again it took a turn to the right, quite a sharp 
 turn, and without a note of warning it sud 
 denly transformed itself into a pleasant country 
 road that ran along with the river, evidently 
 having forgotten all about its former grandeur 
 as well as its slovenly degradation. 
 
 This was Esther's favorite walk and sketch 
 ing field. The river always had had a fascina 
 tion for her. She loved the lower street, too, 
 with its swarming population of dirty children, 
 some wistful, some saucy. She wondered why 
 they stayed in the crowded, narrow street when 
 God's green country was just beyond and free 
 for the taking. Why would they content them 
 selves with playing in the gutters, sailing their 
 boats in soapy, greasy water one of the by 
 products of wash day, on the street when 
 only a little way down the pleasant, shady road 
 was a sweet, little brook that flowed into the 
 river. In spite of the charms of the shady road 
 beyond the second turn, she, too, would often 
 linger in the lower street and watch the children 
 at play, making hasty sketches of them. 
 
 " The country is lovely," she said to herself,
 
 Mammy's White Polks 
 
 * but after all, nothing is so wonderful as just 
 people." 
 
 It was a rare and radiant day in June. The 
 gutters in the lower street were full to over 
 flowing with delectable, soapy water. The suds 
 sparkled in the sunshine as they foamed from 
 a waste pipe. Surely, all the women in the 
 street were washing on that day to make such 
 beautiful soapsuds. School was out for the 
 year, and the children were noisily happy as 
 they waded in the gutters. 
 
 Esther, too, was glad that school was out. 
 Commencement day had come and gone. 
 Dressed in white, she had stood on the stage 
 with her class, and had stepped from the ranks 
 to receive her diploma. She was much more 
 conscious of having graduated in white organdy 
 than mathematics, but nevertheless she prized 
 the sheepskin that bore witness to the fact that 
 ahe had gone to school for twelve long years. 
 Now she meant to give her life up to sketching. 
 The time might come when she would be allowed 
 to go x to New York and study art, but in the 
 meantime, there was the lower street and the 
 river to be studied and sketched, and Miss 
 Hunter's studio, where she passed many happy 
 hours. 
 
 Jim Dudley had given her a beautiful gradu-
 
 Finding a Namesake 171 
 
 ating present a complete little sketching kit. 
 She had taken it out for the first time, intending 
 to christen it with a thumb-nail sketch for Jim. 
 It was great fun watching the kiddies sail their 
 boats in the gutters, but the river was calling 
 her and she must run along and get busy with 
 her sketch. Soon she left the road and entered 
 a little overgrown path leading directly to the 
 river. She and Jim had followed that path one 
 day and had enjoyed a little picnic down by the 
 bank. She had determined then to make a 
 picture of the spot a bit of curved sandy 
 beach in the foreground, and, on beyond, an 
 arched stone bridge. Softly she walked along 
 the tangled path, stopping now and again to 
 listen to the birds who seemed filled with the joy 
 of living. June is the month for singing, and 
 they were getting in all the music possible before 
 the heat of July. She caught the note of a 
 thrush; then a wren; then a whistle she could 
 not identify until a streak of scarlet cut across 
 her vision, and she knew the strange note was 
 that of a Kentucky Cardinal. Suddenly Mr. 
 Mockingbird took up the combined refrain of 
 all the birds and scornfully flung it back at 
 them. Abashed for a moment, the more modest 
 singers were silent, but one by one they came 
 back in the chorus.
 
 172 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Esther held her breath in ecstasy. A tiny 
 Molly Cotton Tail came loping up the path, 
 and a striped chipmunk scuttled behind a huge 
 sycamore tree. 
 
 "It's wonderfully good to be alive!" she 
 mused. "But what is that bird? Could it be 
 a dove? They are melancholy enough." 
 
 She stopped and listened intently. There 
 was a moan that might have been a dove's sad 
 song, but an unmistakable sob followed. 
 
 " Somebody is miserable! And on such a 
 day, tool " 
 
 The sobbing continued, and then she heard 
 a woman's voice: 
 
 "My baby! My baby! How can I? But 
 I must. It is the only way. I can't leave you 
 and I can't stay here any longer. God forgive 
 me!" 
 
 Esther pushed her way through the tangled 
 vines and alder-bushes that bordered the little 
 river. Crouched on the bit of curved sandy 
 beach which she had planned to use as a fore 
 ground in her composition was a young girl no 
 older than Esther herself. Clasped in her arms 
 was a tiny baby. Every line of the girl's 
 slender figure denoted complete abandonment 
 to misery and woe. 
 
 " Oh, what is the matter? " cried Esther.
 
 Finding a Namesake 173 
 
 " Please let me help you." She fell on her 
 knees by the side of the girl. ' What a darling 
 baby! Let me hold it, please! " 
 
 At Esther's first words the girl started to 
 clamber to her feet, but mention and praise of 
 her baby arrested her action. She stared at 
 Esther for a moment and then covered her face 
 with one hand. 
 
 "Don't speak to me! Go away! I'm not 
 doing any harm." 
 
 "Of course you are not! Neither am I;. I 
 just want to see your little baby. Is it yours? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "How lovely! Aren't you proud of such a 
 wonderful little thing being yours? " 
 
 The girl uncovered her face and looked curi 
 ously at the person who had broken in so unex 
 pectedly on what she had thought to be her 
 last moments on earth. Then she looked down 
 on the tiny form held so close in her arms, and 
 a smile of infinite sweetness crossed her face. 
 She was a pretty girl with great grey eyes and 
 blue-black hair. In spite of a faded, brown 
 calico dress several sizes too large for her, 
 Esther's artistic eye could detect the subtle 
 lines of beauty in her slender form. 
 
 " Proud of it ! Everybody says I ought to 
 be ashamed of it. That's why "
 
 174 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Ashamed of it! But you love it, don't you? 
 Of course you do," noting the way the poor 
 little mother curved her arm around the tiny 
 creature. ' You might be ashamed if you have 
 been been immodest but now that the 
 baby is here, you have to be proud. Please let 
 me hold it a moment. I'll give it right back." 
 She held out her arms beseechingly. 
 
 " She ain't fit to be held by the likes of you. 
 She's naked. I had nothing but this old rag 
 to wrap her in. I pawned everything else." 
 
 Esther tried to keep the shocked look out of 
 her face. She was fully aware of the fact that 
 her timely entrance had kept the poor wretched 
 girl from plunging into the river and taking 
 her baby with her. One tactless act or word 
 and she might still carry out her design. She 
 was evidently desperate. Esther shuddered at 
 the thought of the terrible destitution that the 
 young mother must have faced. 
 
 " Well, there is nothing in the world sweeter 
 than a little naked baby. I just love them. It 
 is warm to-day, and babies don't need many 
 clothes when the sun is shining so. How old 
 is she?" 
 
 "Just a month." 
 
 At last Esther had the little creature in her 
 arms, wrapped in its rag.
 
 Finding a Namesake 175 
 
 " What a precious ! I feel like squeeamg her 
 real hard. What is her name? " 
 
 " She hasn't any name. I just call her baby." 
 
 " Oh, but she must have a name, mustn't 
 she?" 
 
 " I didn't see the use." The big grey eyes 
 stared in the river. 
 
 " Oh, please name her for me. I have always 
 just longed to have someone named after me. 
 My name is Esther Esther Wallace. Would 
 you mind ? " 
 
 " No I " the girl choked. " You don't 
 understand I'm I'm not fit, neither is the 
 baby." 
 
 "Not fit? This dear little angel not fitl 
 Don't say such things about my namesake and 
 godchild that is, if you will let me be her 
 godmother. Please tell me your name." 
 
 "Cora!" 
 
 " Now, Cora, let's go home, and Mammy and 
 I will find some clothes for little Esther. When 
 I was a little girl I had a big doll baby I used 
 to call the ' Largest Doll,* and she had a whole 
 trunkful of clothes. She ended her days with 
 a broken head, but I am sure her clothes are 
 still there. They will just fit little Esther. Let 
 me carry the baby and you carry my sketching 
 things. They are not heavy."
 
 176 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Meekly Cora picked up the sketching kit, and 
 meekly she followed Esther up the path with 
 out once looking back at the river. 
 
 It was characteristic of Esther that she never 
 once thought that anybody would act differ 
 ently from the way she was doing or would 
 criticise her for her behavior. Of course, it was 
 unusual for a young lady living on Upper 
 Garden Street to walk through the streets 
 carrying a tiny baby wrapped up in a rag, with 
 the mother of the infant trailing along deject 
 edly beside her, but then it was an unusual 
 thing for a young lady to go out to make a 
 sketch on a wonderful June morning and find 
 her foreground occupied by a poor unfor 
 tunate girl about to jump in the river with 
 her baby in her arms. 
 
 " Here's where I live," she said gently. 
 " We'll go find Mammy, Cora." 
 
 The front door was always left unlatched 
 during the day a fact which saved Mammy 
 many a step as Esther and her friends were 
 constantly running in and out. Esther opened 
 the door, and taking the poor girl by the hand, 
 she lead her straight back to the kitchen where 
 Mammy sat dozing over the shelling of a lapful 
 of pe&a, 
 
 " Mammy, I need your help ! "
 
 Finding a Namesake 177 
 
 ik What is it, honey chil'? " Mammy awakened 
 with a start. 
 
 " Mammy, I have a friend with me. Cora is 
 her name, and her little baby hasn't any clothes. 
 I want you to find the clothes that used to be 
 worn by the Largest Doll before she got a 
 broken head. I am sure they would just fit 
 the little baby, whose name is Esther Wallace. 
 Look, Mammy, isn't she precious? We met 
 down by the river." 
 
 Mammy's keen intelligence grasped the situa 
 tion quicker than her dim eyesight took in the 
 fact that Esther's arms held a baby wrapped in 
 a faded piece of gingham. 
 
 'What you say? Wha's any baby?" 
 
 Esther put the infant in the old woman's lap, 
 right on top of the unshelled peas. 
 
 " Gawd in Heaben ! " gasped Mammy. 
 " What you done did, Miss Esther? Whe'fo' 
 you done " 
 
 " Now, Mammy, I'll tell you all about it 
 after we get the poor little baby dressed. Here, 
 sit down here, Cora. I'll hold the baby, 
 Mammy, while you go look for the doll-clothes. 
 You know where you put them, and they are 
 all clean, too, because I remember how you 
 did them up before you put them away. Now, 
 hurry, Mammy! You are the best old Mammy
 
 178 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 in the world, and I love you more than any 
 body, but please hurry ! " 
 
 "Gawd in Heaben!" was all the darkey 
 could say as she untied her apron, carefully 
 holding the peas in it. "Gawd in Heaben!" 
 She peered curiously at Cora as she left the 
 kitchen on her way to the attic. 
 
 " Po' thing! Po' thing!" she muttered as 
 she pulled a doll's trunk from under the eaves 
 where it had been shoved years before. 
 
 " Po' thing nothin' ! Low flung pusson, mo' 
 likely!" came Mammy's second voice. 
 
 " I wouldn't be so mean an' despicious as 
 you air fer a pretty." 
 
 " Well, you know Miss Esther ain't got no 
 call ter be a trapsin th'ough the streets with no 
 shanty boat critter lak that there gal down 
 stairs. Met by the riber! Huh! I reckon 
 they did meet by the riber. I reckon she would 
 a dove in if Miss Esther hadn't a happen along 
 in the nick er time. Good thing, too! " 
 
 " Nigger, you make me trimble fer yo' soul. 
 You let Esther baby a kotch you voicin' sich 
 utterances an' she won't be a-sayin no mo' that 
 you air the bes' ol' Mammy in the worl' an' 
 she lubs you better'n anybody. Po' critter! 
 Po' critter! I cyarn't he'p a thinkin' 'bout po' 
 Miss Elizabeth an' her long goldin hair. I
 
 Finding a Namesake 179 
 
 reckon I'll take all these here doll rags down 
 stairs, trunk an' all." 
 
 From her seat, Cora gazed dumbly at Esther 
 as she rocked the baby and crooned to it. The 
 poor girl was almost glad she was still living. 
 If only she had not had that strange gone feel 
 ing! She had been hungry often enough to 
 know the symptoms, but this hunger was of a 
 peculiar type not just a gnawing but an 
 infinite weariness as well. She looked at some 
 green peas that had dropped from Mammy's 
 apron to the floor and wondered if she mightn't 
 pick one up and eat it. She leaned forward 
 and then quietly crumpled up on the floor. 
 
 "Cora, Cora! What is the matter?" cried 
 Esther. "Oh, she has fainted!" 
 
 She ran swiftly to the office, clutching the 
 baby to her bosom. 
 
 "Mrs. Richards, is Daddy here? No? Well, 
 where is Jim." 
 
 Mrs. Richards was embroidering a baby cap. 
 She was just completing a tiny forget-me-not, 
 and Esther felt like screaming as the older 
 woman carefully and deftly took the final stitch 
 and bit off her thread before answering. 
 
 " Dr. Dudley has just come in. He went out 
 to the garage for a moment," she said in the 
 dead calm voice with the rasping edge that
 
 180 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Esther hated. " Can I be of any assistance? " 
 She looked curiously at the bundle clasped in 
 Esther's arms. " Is that a baby, Miss Wal 
 lace? " The white dents were around her nose. 
 Esther also hated the white dents. 
 
 ' Yes, but I must have Jim ! Cora has 
 fainted and Mammy is in the attic. Jim! 
 Jim ! " she called through the window that 
 faced on the garage. "Quick, Jim! I need 
 you." 
 
 Dr. Dudley came running at Esther's call. 
 
 " What is it, my dear? " 
 
 " Oh, Jim, a friend of mine in the kitchen 
 has fainted and this is her baby, and its name 
 is Esther Wallace. She was on the way to 
 jumping in the river when I met her. The 
 baby is so cute, and, oh, Jim, I am so sorry 
 for her! " All of this poured out in an almost 
 unintelligible flood as she ran back to the 
 kitchen, the young doctor at her heels. 
 
 Mrs. Richards carefully stuck her needle in 
 her needle-book, and then got up and followed 
 them. 
 
 " Pick her up and take her up into my room, 
 Jim. She is as light as a feather, I am sure." 
 
 " Yes, dear Esther, I know she is, but I 
 think it would be better to put her on the couch 
 in the office for the present."
 
 Finding a Namesake 181 
 
 Jim Dudley gently lifted the poor girl, who 
 lay huddled in a little limp heap on the kitchen 
 floor. 
 
 The proper treatment rendered by the young 
 doctor soon opened the grey eyes. 
 
 " I think it is hunger, Esther," and Esther 
 flew for soup which she was sure Mammy had 
 in the big black pot on the back of the stove. 
 The baby was tenderly laid in the big leather 
 chair in the office. Not for worlds would Esther 
 have asked Mrs. Richards to hold it while she 
 went for food, nor would she ask that lady to 
 go get the food. There was something about 
 her manner that made Esther feel that she 
 highly disapproved of the whole affair, and 
 when she came back, bearing a cup of soup, 
 and saw Mrs. Richards looking down at the 
 baby as though it were a species of reptile, she 
 was sure she hated the poor little creature. 
 
 The food had a wonderful effect on Cora. A 
 faint color came into her wan cheeks, and her eyes 
 brightened. 
 
 " Come on back ter the kitchen an' set up 
 to the table an' I'll set out a sho' 'nough meal," 
 insisted Mammy, who had come down from the 
 attic bearing the tiny trunk. 
 
 Mammy picked up the baby and bore it off 
 to the kitchen, Cora following. Mrs. Richards
 
 182 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 went into the consulting room, leaving Esther 
 and Dr. Dudley alone. 
 
 " Jim, you were lovely to poor Cora. I can't 
 thank you enough for being so kind to her." 
 
 " How could I have been anything else? 
 Poor little soul! Tell me all about how you 
 happened to find her." 
 
 So Esther told the whole story. 
 
 " And, Jim, to think of her being ashamed 
 of such a precious baby! But what are we to 
 do now? She can't be turned adrift besides, 
 the baby is my namesake and godchild now." 
 
 Jim laughed. 
 
 * You didn't let any grass grow under your 
 feet, did you, Esther? Of course she mustn't 
 be turned adrift. We must find a home for her, 
 and we must look after mother and child. Let 
 me speak to Mike a minute. I fancy he can 
 think of some place." 
 
 Mike could. In fact, his own mother, he was 
 sure, would take Cora in for the time being, 
 at least. And now the baby must be fed an 
 operation which pleased Esther immensely. 
 
 " You must have lots of soup, Cora not 
 only for yourself, but so little Esther can grow 
 strong and fat." 
 
 Then the doll-clothes must be tried on the 
 unresisting infant. They fitted to a nicety.
 
 Finding a Namesake 183 
 
 Rarely did a little waif fall heir to such an 
 outfit. The Largest Doll had been a great 
 favorite in her dav, and her wardrobe had been 
 
 V ~ 
 
 an extensive one. 
 
 "I'm so glad my poor doll was a baby. 
 Wouldn't it have been terrible if she had been 
 a grown lady, and poor little Esther would 
 have had to wear a pink-silk party-gown and a 
 fur-trimmed ulster? " 
 
 Cora laughed merrily at this, and then 
 stopped in astonishment at her own gaiety and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Mike, coming in to say that Dr. Dudley's car 
 was at Esther's disposal, stood abashed. His 
 kind Irish face was filled with sympathy. 
 
 " I can take her to my mother whenever you 
 think best," he said to Esther. 
 
 " How do you know your mother will want 
 her? " asked Esther, drawing Mike into the 
 next room. 
 
 " Because I am after knowing my mother," 
 the boy answered simply. " She will keep her 
 for a time, anyhow, and then the poor thing 
 can look around a bit." 
 
 And so Cora, who had started the day with 
 the determination of sharing a watery grave 
 with her baby, found herself, instead, with all 
 that was left of Esther's June allowance in
 
 184 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 her pocket, besides a generous yellow-backed 
 bill from Dr. Dudley. Her old brown-calico, 
 dress was discarded for a neat blue voile, and 
 in a bundle were other gifts from the girl. The 
 doll baby trunk was at her feet, filled with 
 dainty clothes for her baby. Esther -was by 
 her side. 
 
 It had been decided that Cora was to rent 
 a room at the home of Mike's mother. When 
 Esther returned, after having established Cora 
 in her new home, she found her father in the 
 kitchen with Mammy. 
 
 " You and Mammy are not angry with me, 
 are you, Daddy? " 
 
 " No, indeed, my child, but I wonder that 
 you knew what to do." Dr. Wallace drew 
 her to him. 
 
 ' Why, Daddy, I did what I was sure my 
 mother would have done. She would have 
 sympathized with that poor girl, I am certain. 
 I almost felt that she stood by my side and 
 told me what to do. You see, Cora was in 
 such a state that if I had said the wrong thing 
 she would have run right into the water. Some 
 thing told me to talk, about the baby and, you 
 see, it turned out all right." 
 
 "Gawd in Heaben!" ejaculated Mammy, 
 and Dr. Wallace held Esther close to his heart.
 
 Chapter 17 
 A MOMENTOUS DECISION 
 
 It was decided! It took much discussion, 
 many sleepless nights for several persons, argu 
 ments pro and con, even some tears, but the 
 conclusion was finally reached that Esther must 
 go off to a New York boarding school. 
 
 Marian Carley put it into her head. Marian 
 was going, and naturally wanted her chum to 
 go too. Esther wanted to go, and still she 
 didn't want to go. She loved her home 
 intensely; she loved her father; she loved 
 Mammy; she loved good Jim Dudley, as 
 though he had been the big brother she had 
 always longed for. It would be hard to leave 
 all of these loved ones, but on the other hand 
 it would be such sport to go to boarding-school 
 to get to know rafts of new girls and see 
 all kinds of good plays and pictures. 
 
 Miss Hunter, the art teacher who had taken 
 such interest in Esther, was decidedly in favor 
 of her going, if it could be arranged that much 
 of her time might be spent at some good art 
 school. Esther was eighteen. She had reached 
 
 185
 
 186 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 a moody age. One minute she was sad and 
 depressed; the next her sunny disposition would 
 again assert itself. Her dislike for Mrs. 
 Richards had not abated an iota, but nobody 
 but Mammy suspected it. That perfect lady 
 had made herself indispensable to the two 
 doctors. She was always on time, never made 
 mistakes, was always courteous to patients, was 
 never tired, never complaining. There she sat 
 day after day, month after month, answering 
 the telephone, keeping accounts, working on 
 her never-ending orders for baby caps. 
 
 Gradually Dr. Wallace had ceased to be 
 embarrassed in her presence. A certain nun- 
 like quality which the woman possessed had put 
 him at his ease. The doctor's friends had 
 always declared that a person either must be 
 a man or be ill to find any favor with Andrew 
 Wallace. Mrs. Richards was neither, but still 
 she was certainly creeping into his friendship. 
 He even consulted her about Esther at times, 
 and her opinion as to the advisability of letting 
 the girl go to boarding-school was what finally 
 made him decide to give in to Esther's entreaties. 
 
 *' She is anxious to go, and certainly it can 
 do her no harm," she said cautiously. " She is 
 not much of a student, you tell me. Her desire 
 is to paint, and New York will offer much
 
 A Momentous Decision 187 
 
 greater advantages than this southern city. And 
 then but perhaps I had better not say what 
 was in my mind." 
 
 "Oh, say it do, please! I want your 
 advice ! " was his eager plea. 
 
 "Of course, it is not my place to criticise 
 Miss Wallace, and I do not mean to. She is a 
 charming girl in every way. Perhaps she is a 
 little bit too friendly with all kinds and condi 
 tions of people. Of course, I believe in being 
 democratic, but having been placed as I have 
 since the death of my husband," here she 
 dropped her eyes and Dr. Wallace felt very 
 sorry for her, " I have found it necessary to 
 draw the line very carefully for myself and my 
 daughter. It is easier to sink than to rise, and 
 if one chooses associates beneath one, it is diffi 
 cult to keep one's standing." 
 
 " Surely, but how does that apply to Esther? " 
 
 " It does not exactly, but I have noticed she 
 has a tendency to be quite familiar with with 
 menials. Of course I am not speaking of 
 your colored cook. That is quite different, 
 although no doubt it would be well for her to 
 have some other standards of comparison. I 
 am really thinking of that Cora, who is hardly 
 a proper companion, and of Mike, your chauf 
 feur. Mike is no doubt a nice Irish boy, but
 
 188 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 it is hardly suitable for your daughter to spend 
 half the afternoon out in the garage talking to 
 him." 
 
 "Well but " 
 
 " You see, I should not have spoken." 
 
 "Oh, no! That is all right! You should 
 have spoken, and I am much obliged to you. I 
 think you don't quite understand my daughter." 
 
 " Oh, indeed I do! I am not criticising her 
 at all. I think it is quite natural for her to do 
 just as she does, but I also think it would be 
 well for her to spend a year of her life where 
 her manners would be shaped by cultured, 
 accomplished ladies rather than by a colored 
 servant, no matter how devoted that servant 
 may be." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right. Poor Mammy! 
 Esther's going will be hard on the old woman. 
 She has been the only mother the child has 
 known." 
 
 " Your wife died when the babv was born? " 
 
 
 
 " Y-e-s that is, soon after." The doctor 
 shut up like a clam. He wished he could tell 
 this woman about Esther. He did not relish 
 the idea of acting a part before her, but the 
 habit of the last seventeen years was strong 
 on him and he resisted the temptation of making 
 a clean breast of the matter.
 
 A Momentous Decision 189 
 
 "It is hard on a girl to have to bring herself 
 up as Miss Wallace has done," she went on 
 gently. 
 
 " But Mammy has brought her up." 
 
 " Of course, she has done her duty by her to 
 the best of her ability, but one could hardly 
 expect an ignorant old colored woman to know 
 all the usages of good society." Mrs. Richards' 
 manner was so perfect that although her words 
 jarred a bit on her employer he was sure she 
 meant to be kind and that her advice was good. 
 
 No doubt Esther was too free and easy with 
 Mike. Perhaps Mammy could not teach deport 
 ment to a young lady. Esther's manners 
 seemed to him to be very good, but was he a 
 judge of what a young girl's manners should 
 be? Perhaps not! 
 
 " Naturally," Mrs. Richards continued, " Miss 
 Wallace has inherited a poise, a savoir faire, 
 from her ancestors. Blood will tell it does 
 tell in her case. She is the most aristocratic- 
 looking young girl of my acquaintance. But 
 a good finishing-school in New York would be 
 beneficial to any girl, even the most refined." 
 
 Blood will tell! Dr. Wallace wondered just 
 what it would tell. Would Esther develop the 
 same traits as her mother? What were these 
 traits? The more he thought about it, the
 
 190 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 gladder he was that he had not succumbed to 
 the momentary temptation of divulging Esther's 
 story to Mrs. Richards. Nothing would ever 
 drag it from him. Of that much he was sure. 
 If a New York boarding-school would help his 
 child, then she must go. 
 
 Mammy agreed with her master that it was 
 right for Esther to go. It was hard to give 
 her up, doubly hard for Mammy just at that 
 time, because the cataracts on her eyes had now 
 reached the point where an operation would be 
 necessary. The brave old soul kept this to 
 herself. Esther must be gone and settled in 
 her new life before she would confess that the 
 time had come. There must be nothing to make 
 the child sad when she left home. 
 
 Young Dr. Dudley was the only person who 
 freely and boldly declared himself opposed to 
 the scheme. 
 
 " It is ridiculous," he insisted. " What can 
 you get in New York that you can't get here? 
 A boarding-school will put all kinds of airs in 
 your head and ruin you, simply ruin you." 
 
 " You went out of your own city for an edu 
 cation and your city was bigger than ours," 
 said Esther with a toss of her head. 
 
 "But I'm a man!" 
 
 " But I'm a woman! "
 
 A Momentous Decision 191 
 
 Jim laughed. The pretty, glowing girl could 
 assert she was a woman all she wanted to, but 
 he could think of her only as the delightful 
 child who had let down the hem of her dress 
 and tucked up her curls to impress him. That 
 had been three years ago, but those years had 
 passed very quickly. He, Jim Dudley, did not 
 feel a day older than he had on that night in 
 March when he came to live at the old Grant 
 house, and he did not realize that Esther was 
 any older either. He would miss her greatly 
 quite as much as Mammy or Dr. Wallace. She 
 was like a dear little sister to him, though not 
 exactly a sister more like a cousin perhaps, 
 a cousin close enough to tease and romp with, 
 but not so close that it might not be possible 
 in the future when she was quite grown up 
 "No, that is absurd!" thought Jim. Esther 
 was nothing but a child, and would be a child 
 for a long time to come. 
 
 " Well, tell me, Mrs. Methuselah, why are 
 you going?" 
 
 " Oh, I have a million reasons. First, I am 
 going to study drawing. I am going to draw 
 and draw, and then draw some more. I think 
 I can do something if I only work hard enough. 
 I have been doing Mike while he tinkered with 
 the cars, and Miss Hunter said some fine things
 
 192 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 about it. I am to take those studies to show 
 at the art school. Besides," continued the girl, 
 " I want to see all kinds of people and things. 
 I want to go to shows, and hear music, and see 
 the animals in the zoo, and ride on a Fifth 
 Avenue bus, and see the Rembrandts in the 
 Metropolitan. Why, Jim, I want to do so many 
 things it would make your head swim." 
 
 "But how about all of us at home? What 
 are we to do? Don't you think about us?" 
 
 " Oh, pooh ! You can do very well without 
 me all but Mammy. I feel terribly bad about 
 leaving Mammy. Of course, Daddy will miss 
 me and I'll miss him, but he is so busy all the 
 time and Mrs. Richards looks after his office 
 so well, I reckon he will hardly know I've gone 
 before I'll be back." 
 
 Jim looked keenly at the girl. A hard expres 
 sion had come in her eyes when she mentioned 
 Mrs. Richards. Was she jealous of the person 
 who was of so much assistance to her father? 
 That seemed strange for a child of her genial, 
 sunny disposition. 
 
 " Mrs. Richards's daughter is coming home, 
 so she tells me. She is not very well, and her 
 mother wants to have her near her." 
 
 " Yes, poor girl! I hope she will be better," 
 said Esther, sympathetically.
 
 A Momentous Decision 193 
 
 " She must be a fine girl." 
 
 " I am sure she is." 
 
 " She has studied hard, and for the last three 
 or four winters has been able to keep herself 
 at school by teaching and coaching in the sum 
 mer. She is certainly an admirable girl." 
 
 " No doubt! " 
 
 " Her mother is very proud of her. All of 
 her friends must be," continued Jim with singu 
 lar obtuseness. He did not notice Esther's 
 rising color and flashing eyes. 
 
 " I hope you are going to make as good use 
 of your time at school as Miss Richards has 
 done." Jim felt himself to be old enough to 
 preach a bit occasionally to his little friend. 
 
 ' Well, I'm not, Jim Dudley, so there! You 
 need not be holding up the daughter to me. 
 I've had the perfect mother before my eyes 
 until I am sick of her, and if the daughter is 
 going to be stuck on the pedestal by her side, 
 I am glad I won't have to be here to see it. I 
 know Lucile Richards mends her gloves, and 
 keeps her veils in envelopes, and can open her 
 bureau drawers and find her things in the dark 
 because they are arranged so straight. I know 
 she keeps shoe-trees in her shoes, and wraps her 
 best hat up in tissue paper. I am sure she can 
 do her algebra with her eyes shut, and can say
 
 194 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 the kings of England backwards and front 
 wards. She can even find her place in the 
 prayer book on special Sundays and holidays. 
 I know she is a little tin angel, and you are 
 welcome to her. So there! " 
 
 The young man gazed at the girl in aston 
 ishment. He had never seen Esther in such a 
 temper, and over nothing, in his opinion. He 
 could not know that, for many months, she had 
 repressed all this feeling about the Richards, 
 mother and daughter, and now his praise of the 
 daughter was more than she could stand. 
 
 He smiled in what Esther chose to consider 
 a superior manner, and left the room. 
 
 "Now I've made the prince mad!" Esther 
 said to herself. Jim was "the prince" to 
 Esther in her communings with herself. " But 
 he is too preachy," she admitted. " He talks 
 more like a minister than a doctor. Well, he'll 
 have to stay angry, that's all."
 
 The child was gone ! Mammy put up a brave 
 front until Mike turned the corner in his best 
 style. She knew that Esther was still waving 
 her little white handkerchief, but her half- 
 blinded eyes were totally blinded by tears as 
 she stumbled into the house and groped her way 
 back to the kitchen. 
 
 " Gone, gone! And I couldn't see her sweet 
 face nothin' but the shine roun' her haid like 
 one er them there angels in the church winder 
 whar her hair made a hello. I ain't nebber 
 gonter see her no mo'." 
 
 "Aw, g'long, you ol' cry baby!" Always, 
 in moments of trial or trouble, Mammy found 
 consolation in dialogues with her dual per 
 sonality. " You's a gonter see her plenty 
 ernough. Doc Andy's gonter git the canteracks 
 off' n yo' eyes befo' long and you's gonter be 
 good as new." 
 
 ' The mascot's done lef the house an' good 
 luck done gone wif her," whined the uncom- 
 forted one. 
 
 195
 
 196 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "Dry up, nigger, dry up! If'n good luck's 
 done lef the house, it's becase you is a hoodoo." 
 
 ' You see if n 'tain't so ! You mark my 
 words, if good luck ain't done gone. We done 
 had sebenteen year er prosperity an' happiness, 
 an' now is the time fer the locuses er kerlamity 
 ter come an' deverstate the Ian'." She covered 
 her head with her apron, and rocked back and 
 forth, moaning. "The seben teen-year locuses is 
 a gonter feed on us an' eat up all our good 
 luck. They's gonter be sadness an' misery fer 
 this ol' nigger an' fer my marster." 
 
 ' They'll be sadness an' misery plenty if'n 
 you don't git ter wuck. They won't be nothin' 
 in this here kitchen fer the sebenteen-year 
 locuses ter eat on if'n you don't make down 
 yo' braid an' put them herrin' ter soak." 
 
 " I don't make no min' what we eats or what 
 we drinks wif my Esther baby gone." 
 
 " Yes, an' you knows moughty well what Doc 
 Andy will tak ter drink if'n he ain't fed up 
 proper. A man what done drowned his sowers 
 onct in sperets knows whar ter git comfort 
 whin things goes comtrary. You go a-whinin 
 'roun' wif a face as long as a ham, an' yo' talk 
 'bout bad luck done a-comin, an' 'fo you knows 
 it, Doc Andy'll 'member the goin's-on er his 
 youth an he'll return ter thim lak lil pins ter
 
 Almost a Proposal 197 
 
 one of thim there magnits. Git up from here, 
 nigger, an' git ter wuck." 
 
 The house was gloomy without Esther. The 
 two doctors looked at each other across the table 
 and wondered how they could stand it. Mammy 
 stalked to and from the kitchen, her face set 
 in determined lines. Her duty was clear. She 
 must make the best of her loneliness and cook 
 all the doctor's favorite dishes so that he would 
 not turn for comfort to the dread liquor. 
 
 Jim Dudley wondered if it would not be 
 perfectly all right for him to move himself and 
 his belongings to a cheerful apartment. It was 
 ridiculous for him to go on living with Dr. 
 Wallace like an apprentice, as it were. He 
 was a partner, now, no longer an assistant, and 
 it was high time for him to set up an estab 
 lishment for himself. Whenever he had sug 
 gested going, so many objections had been 
 raised by the combined household that he had 
 given up any plans he might have made. Every 
 body wanted him to stay and he had been happy 
 to comply. But with Esther gone, the place 
 seemed like a dungeon. There were as many 
 windows as there ever had been, but the light 
 did not seem to come in so brightly by day, and 
 by night a gloom dimmed the lamps as though 
 they needed trimming.
 
 198 Mammy's White Polks 
 
 Jim was sorry he had let Esther go withour 
 making up with her, but she had borne herself 
 with such ludicrous dignity, for one of her years, 
 whenever he had been present after their little 
 tiff, that he had been unable to make up his 
 mind to eat the humble pie. And this, appar 
 ently, was what Esther expected him to do. He 
 could not see in what way he had offended. She 
 must realize, he reflected, that she had been 
 very rude to him. But now she was gone, and 
 he would give anything to have apologized, if 
 that was what she expected of him. She 
 must have had some good cause for flying off 
 the handle, as she had done. Perhaps she was 
 nervous over leaving her father, unhappy over 
 poor Mammy, sorry she had decided to go. At 
 any rate, she was his dear little friend, and he 
 well, he was years older than she, and it 
 was up to him to make her going-away a happy 
 one rather than to have it clouded by any mis 
 understanding. 
 
 " I'll write to her to-night," was his deter 
 mination as he seated himself at the sad supper- 
 table. Opposite him sat Dr. Wallace, looking 
 like he was at a wake, while Mammy groped her 
 way in and out with the dishes which she had 
 prepared with such care and which nobody 
 wanted to eat.
 
 Almost a Proposal 199 
 
 " As for leaving Dr. Wallace I can't do it. 
 He would die of the doleful dumps if I should. 
 Why doesn't the man many again? He needs 
 a wife, and Esther would be better off with a 
 step-mother; but I pity the lady if she jumps 
 on her as she did on me." This came into Jim 
 Dudley's mind while they were in the midst of 
 supper. By the time they lit their cigars the 
 thought came back to him with renewed force, 
 and added to it was the idea that Mrs. Richards 
 was the very wife for his middle-aged friend. 
 Good-looking; a lady all but her voice; effi 
 cient and capable; of a suitable age, and so 
 forth, and so forth yes, she was the very one. 
 He wondered he had never thought of it before. 
 He also wondered if the idea had ever come 
 into Esther's head and if that had been the 
 reason for her outbreak. He wondered still 
 more if the idea had ever come into the well- 
 ordered brain of the office attendant. 
 
 Jim did write to Esther that night. He went 
 to his room early, leaving a silent and moody 
 host to fight out his loneliness in the library, 
 where every chair and picture reminded him 
 in some way of his child. Jim tried to talk to 
 him, but meeting with no response, he finally 
 gave up and retired to write to his little friend. 
 
 The letter was a long one and not at all
 
 200 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 preachy. He began with an humble apology 
 for ' whatever he had done to anger her. He 
 told her, with variations, how much he missed 
 her how much all of them missed her. He 
 carefully refrained from any mention of the 
 office attendant. He tried" not to -seem too 
 grown-up, and indeed he felt like a boy as he 
 penned the long, affectionate letter. As he 
 wrote, the thought came to him that Esther 
 might meet some artist, or actor, or somebody, 
 in her search for amusement and learning who 
 might capture her warm little heart. The idea 
 was exceedingly distressful. He knew that she 
 was too young for him to speak of love. But 
 suppose someone else did not think so? 
 
 " Don't fall in love," he wrote, " and if you 
 do, promise me to let me know about it so I 
 can come to New York and extinguish the 
 wretch. I know you look on me as an old fossil, 
 but remember, my dear, that you are getting 
 older all the time and I am getting younger. 
 I can't ask you to think of me yet as anything 
 but a dear, dear friend, but but never mind 
 what! 
 
 ' Your devoted servant, 
 
 "Jim Dudley." 
 
 Esther prized that letter greatly. It was
 
 Almost a Proposal 201 
 
 almost a proposal, but not quite. She usually 
 showed her letters to Marian, but this one she 
 felt was too personal. She locked it away in 
 her desk, and whenever she felt homesick, got 
 it out and re-read it* It was a great comfort 
 to her, a girl of seventeen, going on eighteen, to 
 have had a near-proposal, and from a near- 
 prince at that. 
 
 When Jim finished his letter, not being quite 
 certain of Esther's address, he went back to the 
 library to ask Dr. Wallace for it. He found 
 the older man sitting in his armchair gazing at 
 a little water-color portrait he had in his hand. 
 It was an amateurish painting of a pretty lady 
 with very yellow hair and very blue eyes and a 
 pensive expression. On the table was a bottle 
 recently opened and near it stood a half emptied 
 glass. 
 
 "Have a drink, Dudley?" 
 
 "No, thank you, sir!" Jim was astonished 
 to find his chief indulging himself with a drink. 
 It was a well-known fact that Dr. Wallace never 
 touched liquor in any form. 
 
 It had evidently cheered him t up. He looked 
 much more genial than he had at supper. 
 
 " I have just been writing to Esther and want 
 her address." 
 
 " You lost no time," smiled Dr. Wallace.
 
 202 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " I thought I would wait until to-morrow. You 
 had better have a drink. This bottle of whisky 
 has been waiting to be opened for more than 
 eighteen years. Pity it doesn't age in the 
 bottle pretty good, though, pretty good ! " 
 He poured himself another drink. 
 
 " What is that picture? I have often noticed 
 it and meant to ask," said Jim. He was sorry 
 to see his chief taking another drink. One had 
 evidently had its effect on him. 
 
 " Esther's mother. She did it from imagina 
 tion." 
 
 " Really? It looks like Esther a little." 
 
 " Yes, so it does." 
 
 " Does it look like her mother? " 
 
 "I I don't know." The liquor was cer 
 tainly having a strange effect on his chief if he 
 didn't know whether a picture resembled his 
 dead wife or not. 
 
 " I have been telling Esther how much we 
 miss her," Jim went on. " The truth of the 
 matter is, Dr. Wallace, I believe I am in love 
 with Esther. I didn't know it until she got 
 out of the way, and I know she is too young 
 for me to tell her so, but I don't want any long 
 haired artist guy getting in ahead of me. I 
 feel somehow that I should tell you, her father, 
 about it."
 
 Almost a Proposal 203 
 
 Dr. Wallace looked at his young partner in 
 astonishment. So it had come, the time when 
 he must, in honor bound, tell of Esther's birth! 
 He knew it would come some time not for 
 years and years, he had hoped and here it 
 was upon him. No doubt the liquor made it 
 possible for him to break the silence of all these 
 years. It was warming up his veins, and his 
 head seemed very clear and light. The whole 
 scene came back to him with vividness. 
 
 The men talked until far in the night. Dr. 
 Wallace told Jim the story of the foundling, 
 leaving out nothing, not even the old serge 
 jacket and the bits of lawn, and the pattern 
 for baby-elothes. 
 
 " Poor little Esther, poor child, poor child! " 
 was all Jim could say. 
 
 " And now, perhaps, you had better not send 
 that letter that is, if you committed yourself 
 in any way. A man doesn't always want to give 
 his name to a nameless one," said Dr. Wallace 
 brokenly. 
 
 " Not send it! Why, my dear Doctor, I am 
 going out to-night to mail it. Esther is Esther! 
 As for her poor mother, who knows what she 
 might have been? She may have been all her 
 child imagines her to have been, and if that is 
 the case, she was good and pure."
 
 204 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 The older man's face cleared, and he gazed 
 at his young assistant admiringly. * There is 
 no expression I hate so much as 4 Blood will 
 tell/ " he said, " and it seems to me it is used 
 oftener about my child than any other. What 
 will it tell, and why should it tell anything? 
 If only she will never know about her mother! 
 It would kill her." 
 
 " She never shall," declared Jim, his voice 
 trembling. 
 
 The two men grasped hands. 
 
 " Shall I put the bottle back, sir? " 
 
 " Yes, and lock it up, please."
 
 Chapter 18 
 PLANNING FOR A CATCH 
 
 The well-ordered brain of the office attend 
 ant was an unsounded depth to Jim Dudley 
 or any other man, for that matter. The calm 
 exterior she presented to the world afforded 
 no indication of her thoughts, as, day in and 
 day out, she sat in the office attending to her 
 duties and plying her clever needle with untir 
 ing precision and zeal. 
 
 There was one person who understood thor 
 oughly what was under that calm exterior, and 
 that was the daughter, Lucile. Her black eyes 
 searched out the innermost workings of her 
 mother's heart and mind, as surely as an X-ray 
 photograph will disclose the flaws and imper 
 fections of the photographed object. 
 
 It may be that Mrs. Richards did not care 
 to conceal her real self from Lucile, or perhaps 
 she could not. At any rate, mother and daugh 
 ter had no secrets from one another. What 
 ever roles they played on the world's stage, 
 when they were alone together they could drop 
 their parts and be themselves. 
 
 205
 
 206 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Mrs. Richards experienced the same satisfac 
 tion in being able to let herself go in her 
 daughter's presence that a stout woman might 
 feel in loosening her stays. To doff the stiff 
 tight garb of perfectness and don the kimona 
 of human frailties, was a relief indeed. 
 
 Lucile had been away from her mother for 
 several years. A pupil-teacher during the 
 winter, she earned her living in the summer by 
 coaching children. Her health had been 
 impaired by the constant work, and she found 
 it necessary to take a rest. Her return home 
 had fitted very well into her mother's plans, 
 but it was a bitter pill for the girl to swallow. 
 She did not want to give up. Coming home 
 was exceedingly distasteful to her. She loved 
 her mother after a fashion, but she loved her 
 better when she did not have to see too much 
 of her. The independent life she had led for 
 the last two or three years had been the happiest 
 time of her youth, and she did not relish the 
 restrictions she felt sure her mother would put 
 upon her. Lucile did not mind playing a part 
 not altogether in character, but she preferred 
 selecting her own part, uninfluenced by her 
 mother. The comforts and luxuries of wealthy 
 homes where she had spent several summers in 
 coaching the children of the rich, had made her
 
 Planning for a Catch 207 
 
 dissatisfied with the simpler life of her girlhood. 
 
 " I hate poverty," she declared with vehe 
 mence as she placed a light delicatessen supper 
 on the table. Her mother had come in from her 
 day's work. " Potato salad, sliced ham, baker's 
 bread and cocoa made without milk! Day after 
 day the same kind of stupid food! I don't see 
 how you stand it, Mother." 
 
 " Oh, I have an excellent dinner every day. 
 That bossy old darkey at Dr. Wallace's can cook 
 almost well enough for one to forgive her for 
 her disagreeable ways, and the doctor is a lavish 
 provider." Mrs. Richards had taken off her 
 spotless white shirtwaist and linen skirt, and 
 after carefully folding them up, had put on a 
 pink-silk kimona. ; ' The spoiled daughter left 
 to-day for boarding school. Horrid child! " 
 
 " In what way? " 
 
 "Oh, every way as far as I am concerned! 
 While she takes pains to hide it, I can see she 
 hates me." 
 
 "What makes her hate you? Surely, you 
 have been polite to her." There was an open 
 sneer on Lucile's handsome face. 
 
 " Certainly you know me well enough to be 
 sure that I have given her no cause for dis 
 liking me. Perhaps she divines the future, and 
 resents the relationship."
 
 208 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Mother! Have you really caught him? " 
 
 "Almost! He doesn't know it though." 
 
 ' What a clever mother you are ! " There was 
 still a slight sneer on the girl's lip, but her black 
 eyes sparkled with appreciation of her mother's 
 ability. 
 
 '* Wait until the ceremony is performed before 
 you praise me too highly. * There's many a slip 
 twixt the cup and the lip,' you know," said Mrs. 
 Richards, laughing heartily arid loudly. Nobody 
 at Dr. Wallace's had ever heard Mrs. Richards 
 laugh out loud. That was one thing Esther 
 had against her. 
 
 " Mother, are you absolutely certain my 
 father is dead? You have never heard it for 
 sure, have you? " 
 
 " Oh, my dear, what a question to bring up! 
 Of course he is dead, otherwise he would have 
 turned up long ago if not for love of me, for 
 love of you. It has been about eighteen years 
 now since he deserted me, the brute ! " 
 
 " I wouldn't call him names. I fancy you 
 nagged him, eh? I can just remember him, and 
 I must say he had you skinned a block in some 
 ways." 
 
 ' You say that because you are just like him. 
 He didn't know the first thing about gratitude." 
 
 Mother and daughter often spoke to each
 
 Planning for a Catch 209 
 
 other with perfect frankness, indulging in cut 
 ting truths, but they seldom got angry, seeming 
 rather to enjoy the luxury of speaking out. 
 
 " I don't see why you didn't get a divorce 
 years ago. Then his being alive or dead would 
 make no difference in your plans." 
 
 " A divorce indeed ! My widowhood has 
 brought me in too many returns for me to give 
 it up for a mere divorce. When a woman gets 
 a divorce, there is always somebody to say it was 
 her fault, but there is nothing but sympathy for 
 a bona fide widow," said the mother, helping 
 herself to a large slice of ham. 
 
 " What will be your next move? " 
 
 " That would be telling." 
 
 " You don't know it, then," laughed the girl. 
 
 The next move came much sooner than Mrs. 
 Richards had planned to make it. She was a 
 woman who bided her time. She had felt from 
 the first day of her work as office attendant that 
 Dr. Wallace might be her solution. She was 
 tired of work; tired of holding the lowly place 
 in society that her poverty necessitated; tired of 
 playing the part of noble mother and bereaved 
 wife; tired of the neat, severely-plain clothes 
 that she affected. As the wife of Dr. Wallace, 
 she would come into possession of what r1 
 pleased to consider her right a life o e ^m-
 
 210 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 parative ease, good clothes and a place in society. 
 She was still young in appearance; handsome, 
 surely, and could be clever and agreeable when 
 she wanted to be. 
 
 She liked Dr. Wallace, although in her heart 
 she had a humorous contempt for him because of 
 his constant deference to Mammy and his silly 
 adoration of Esther. The shrewd woman had 
 early realized that Esther and Mammy were her 
 stumbling blocks. So long as they were around, 
 she felt she could never bring the timid doctor 
 to a realization of her charms, but once they 
 were out of the way, she felt almost sure of her 
 ultimate success. 
 
 She was a little afraid of Peter Roche, too. 
 There was something searching, disquieting, in 
 the eye of the silent lawyer. She did not see 
 him often, as he usually called at night after she 
 had gone home, but the few times that she had 
 met him, she had experienced an uneasy feeling 
 that he was looking through her. 
 
 Jim Dudley she liked, and felt that he liked 
 her. He was always so kind and courteous. 
 She wished he had been fifteen years or so older ; 
 then she would have preferred to direct her 
 machinations toward him. He would have been 
 a much more desirable partner than Dr. Wallace. 
 ~ L had not taken her many weeks to discover
 
 Planning for a Catch 211 
 
 that the young man had an independent for 
 tune, although he chose to work so hard in his 
 profession. ' 
 
 " He will do for Lucile, if only she has sense 
 enough to play her cards right," she had decided, 
 but she said nothing to the girl about his desir 
 ability. She had learned that the way to manage 
 her daughter was to seem to let her manage 
 herself. She had bidden Esther good-bye with a 
 sense of elation. 
 
 "One stumbling block gone!" she exulted. 
 " Xow, if only the old darkey could be shipped 
 off somewhere!"
 
 Chapter 19 
 MAMMY LOSES HER WAY 
 
 Mammy was planning for the operation on 
 her eye. She had determined to get the house 
 in apple-pie order, after which she would be 
 free to take in a young colored girl and train 
 her in the way she should go. When the new 
 girl had learned to cook the dishes most accept 
 able to her master, Mammy planned to go to 
 bed, have the cataracts removed from her eyes 
 and direct the household from her pillow. She 
 had found the right girl, if such a one existed, 
 but Mammy had little use for the rising gen 
 eration of " free niggers." Just as soon as she 
 could get the linen press in order and place 
 clean papers on the pantry shelves, she planned 
 to start in on the new servant. 
 
 Her sight was growing dimmer and dimmer. 
 
 " Minds me er that time the sun got 'clipped 
 an* all the chickens wint ter roost in the day 
 time," she told Dr. Dudley, who had inquired 
 how she felt. " Our ol' blue hin done laid two 
 aigs that day. She wa' allus a befo' han' 
 
 212
 
 Mammy Loses Her Way 213 
 
 chicken from the fust beginnin'. She bus' 
 through her shell whin the res' of the settin' 
 wa'n't studyin' 'bout hatchin' fur two days an' 
 had ter be raised behin' the kitchen stove in a 
 barskit. Whin she got ter the pullet age, she 
 started in ter layin' 'thout no emcouragemint 
 an' she kep' it up stiddy. That oP hin wa' allus 
 af eerd she wouldn't git fust go at a nist, an' she 
 used ter do her wuck fust thing in the mawnin', 
 pretty nigh by sunnup. She wa' quick ter hop 
 on the roost, too. That time what I wa' a-talkin 
 bout, whin the sun got 'cupped, ol' Blue, she 
 got on the roost as soon as it beginned ter grow 
 darksome an' she wint off ter sleep lak the 
 'spectable hin she wa' raised ter be. Bless 
 Gawd, though, whin the sun corned out from 
 behim the darkness, that ol' hin hopped down 
 from her perch an' 'thout no ado whatsomever 
 she got in that nist an' 'complished a puffec'ly 
 good aig the sicond one that day." 
 
 Dr. Dudley laughed. He often went into 
 the kitchen to have a little chat with Mammy. 
 He liked to have her talk to him about Esther, 
 and of course nothing gave the old woman 
 greater pleasure. 
 
 ' What a delightful old hen was old Blue ! 
 She must have been a valuable asset." 
 
 " She wa'n't a setter at all. It looked lak
 
 214 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 she didn't want ter be worrited with a stiddy 
 fambly. She lef ' settin' ter the lazy ones what 
 didn't min' stayin' up in the baid fer three 
 weeks time. OF Blue wa' alms up an' doin'. 
 Whin she got that early aig laid she uster hep 
 scratch fer the lil chicks what wa' onlucky 'bout 
 bugs an' sich." 
 
 Not many weeks after Esther left for New 
 York, the morning came when Mammy could 
 see nothing but a shimmer of light. She had 
 miscalculated. The linen press was in order, 
 and the pantry shelves had fresh papers, but 
 the new servant had not been broken in had 
 not even arrived for training. She was to have 
 started that very day. 
 
 Jim Dudley had gone on a visit to Kentucky, 
 and Dr. Wallace had been called out of town 
 to see an ailing patient in a neighboring county. 
 Mammy had spent the night alone in the old 
 house. She had worked late, determined to 
 have everything exactly right as an example to 
 the incoming maid. 
 
 " She cyarn't say she foun* ary dirt here, an* 
 no chany what she kin say wa' cracked whin she 
 come," she muttered as she put the finishing 
 touches to an all but perfect kitchen. 
 
 " She kin 'clar what she choose ter 'clar," 
 Mammy's second voice blurted out in aggres-
 
 Mammy Loses Her Way 215 
 
 sive tone. " Free nigger merlatters ain't 'ticu- 
 lar 'bout the truf." 
 
 Mammy busied herself locking the doors and 
 windows. She went from room to room, care 
 fully bolting and barring. 
 
 In the dining-room she stopped in front of 
 the sideboard. She passed her hands over the 
 array of shining silver: christening mugs which 
 had belonged to dead and gone Wallace babies; 
 a massive service presented to a colonial ancestor 
 in token of some diplomatic mission in which he 
 had been successful; a loving cup supposed to 
 have belonged to George Washington. All of 
 them safe! She opened the drawers and passed 
 her fingers lightly over the rows of knives, 
 forks and spoons, counting over the pieces set 
 by set. 
 
 " Ain't nary one er them a-missin in my time," 
 she said, proudly. " I ain't never yit th'owed a 
 piece er silber out in the slops lak I hearn tell 
 the young gemeration do. They ain't a 
 keferm'l" 
 
 " Ain't you afeerd some robber mought break 
 in an' steal all that there silber whilst Doc Andy 
 is away? " came the timorous and whining voice. 
 
 " Robber much ! You's all time puttin' 
 things inter my haid." 
 
 " Well they mought."
 
 216 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 ' Yes an' agin they moughtn't. But sence 
 you is sich a 'frait cat p'rhaps I'd jis' as well 
 set a trap fer the debbles. I'll jes' barumcade 
 the do' an* winders." 
 
 Laboriously she piled chairs in front of the 
 windows, pushing the table up against the door 
 leading into the bath. 
 
 " Now, if 'n ary one comes in, he'll bump inter 
 these here cheers an' the noise'll woken me," she 
 remarked with satisfaction and went cheer 
 fully off to bed. 
 
 Daylight came but not for Mammy. She lay 
 in bed some time after she had awakened, wait 
 ing for dawn. 
 
 " High time the sun wa' up, but th'ain't 
 nebber no countin' on the sun these days," she 
 complained. " I reckon I mought as well git 
 up out'n this baid, though. Ev'ybody cyarn't be 
 lazy." 
 
 She felt for her matches and candle, struck 
 a match, knew by the heat against her fingers 
 it was burning, but the glimmer of flame was 
 so faint aand hazy it made no more light than 
 the new moon on a misty night. She struck 
 another and another. 
 
 Suddenly the truth dawned on her. " I 
 wa'n't spectin' it so soon," she said. Sadly and 
 slowly the poor old woman dressed herself. Her
 
 Mammy Loses Her Way 217 
 
 orderly habits made it a simple thing for her 
 to find her clothes and put them on. 
 
 Slowly she descended the stairs, cautiously 
 feeling her way. 
 
 " Praise Gawd, I got everything in order an' 
 whin that there merlatter gal comes 'praps I 
 kin git her a-goin with the wuck 'thout lettin' 
 on I is plumb blin'. She mought be onrespect- 
 ful ter me if she knowed I couldn't see." 
 
 " The kitchen fire fust an' the kittle on ter 
 bile. Then unlock the back do'." 
 
 Blindness had come on so gradually that now 
 that it had arrived Mammy found she could get 
 along surprisingly well. The fire was already 
 laid, and a match to it started it crackling 
 cheerily. 
 
 " My ears is as good as ebber. If I couldn't 
 hear the fire a-cracklin, I mought hab somethin' 
 ter growl about. Now the kittle ! " 
 
 The next thing on Mammy's matutinal pro 
 gram was opening up the house and shaking 
 down and filling the latrobe stoves, one in the 
 dining-room and one in the office. Large coal 
 boxes in the passage outside the kitchen were 
 kept filled by a boy whose business it was to 
 come after school and split kindling and bring 
 up coal. Mammy waged a never-ending war 
 fare with this boy whose identity changed every
 
 218 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 few weeks. Sometimes he was white, some 
 times colored, sometimes big, sometimes little, 
 but according to Mammy he was always tri 
 fling and lazy, inclined to track dirt in her 
 kitchen, and mix the anthracite coal, meant for 
 the range and latrobes, with the splint, burned 
 in the grates alone. 
 
 " Done mix it up agin," she said angrily. 
 " He thinks 'cause my eyes ain't so good as 
 they useter was that I cyarn't tell hard coal 
 from sof but I'll fool him. There's a lump 
 er sof an' there's anudder! Fixin' ter put 
 out the fire in the 'trobe. He knows sof coal 
 ain't no good in a 'trobe." Grumblingly she 
 picked out the larger lumps of soft coal. " I 
 kin tell 'em, I kin tell 'em! " 
 
 Mammy was strong and agile for her years. 
 A scuttle of coal was nothing for her to lift. 
 She handled it with ease. 
 
 " Dining-room 'trobe fust an' thin the shut 
 ters," she mumbled. 'Tis a good thing I know 
 my way 'roun' this here house. I know whicht 
 side er ev'y do' the han'le is on; I know whar 
 ev'y stick er furnisher is. I been allus holdin' 
 ter the oF time saying : ' A place f er ev'ything 
 an' ev'ything in its place.' ' 
 
 " Huh! Specially niggers! " growled the old 
 woman's alter ego in a tone of sarcasm. " You
 
 Mammy Loses Her Way 219 
 
 ain't all time 'membered ter keep yo'se'f in yo' 
 place. Many a time you see fit ter boss the 
 white folks. How yo' 'splain that? " 
 
 "Well, honey, ain't they need bossin'? Wa' 
 I ter set still an' see my lil baby's life a mint 
 jes' fer the lack er a lil managin'? Doc Andy, 
 he's as good as gol', but he ain't right smart 
 'bout lots er things. He's too scairt er women 
 folks ter be right smart. 'Cose, he's a moughty 
 fine ' doctor, moughty fine." 
 
 Mammy had made her way to the dining- 
 room through the swinging door leading into 
 the passage. She put down her heavy bucket 
 for a moment and stood erect, the better to 
 confront her accusing self. 
 
 " If I'd a listened ter you an' yo' fraid cat 
 whirlings 'bout not meddlin' in white folks busi 
 ness, my lil Esther baby would a been in a 
 orphamige, mo'n likely, or would a been brung 
 up wif ev'ybody a-knowin she wa' a foumlin' 
 'thout no certain paremtage. An' look at her 
 now ! Th'ain't no princuss in the Ian' what 
 kin hoi' her haid higher." 
 
 Triumphant in her defense she stooped and 
 picked up the scuttle of coal. In stopping and 
 turning to confront her accusing other self, she 
 had lost her sense of location. She started in 
 what she thought was the direction of the
 
 220 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 latrobe stove, but bumped into the swinging 
 door. She turned in another direction and 
 excitedly darted forward. 
 
 At one time or another almost everyone has 
 experienced the sensation of being lost amid 
 familiar surroundings, of groping wildly in 
 the dark for door or mantle that one would 
 have sworn was right under his hand but which, 
 by some strange miscalculation of distance or 
 direction, proved to be located in an entirely 
 different part of the room. A match LSI struck 
 or a button touched, and the light reveals the 
 mistake. How foolish and helpless one feels! 
 
 "Whar that stove? Thar it is!" but it 
 proved to be the wall. ' Well, the table is in 
 the middle er the room, that's sho, an' whin I 
 reach that, I kin perceed." 
 
 She had completely forgotten the barricade 
 she had formed the night before, and with one 
 hand outstretched, the other still firmly grasp 
 ing the heavy bucket, she made for the center 
 of the room at least, what she thought was 
 the center. No table! What a big room it 
 was! It seemed to the old woman to stretch 
 for miles. 
 
 ; 'Trobe has went out or I could see the 
 glow. Sho I could see the glow! I could if'n 
 I could git clost ter it."
 
 Mammy Loses Her Way 221 
 
 She made another essay into the darkness. 
 Again she came up against a blank wall. 
 
 " Keep ter the wall, you oP idjit! " 
 
 " Cose! Keep ter the wall an' hump yo'se'f. 
 You ain't got no time ter be a trapsin' roun' 
 this room." 
 
 She started moving rapidly and with a vio 
 lent impact plunged against one of her barri 
 cades. Her forehead struck the protruding leg 
 of a chair, stunning her. She grasped wildly 
 in the air. Dropping the bucket of coal, she 
 caught the back of one of the piled-up chairs, 
 pulling over the barricade. For a moment she 
 was conscious of a violent pain in her hip, and 
 then darkness ensued.
 
 Chapter 20 
 
 THE IDENTIFICATION OF MRS. 
 RICHARDS 
 
 " I rang the door bell repeatedly ! " Mammy 
 heard someone say in tones a little sharp. 
 
 She had been lying on the floor for what 
 seemed to her days and weeks. She had no 
 idea where she was, but wherever it was, it was 
 exceedingly uncomfortable. Some heavy object 
 was on her feet, and something sharp was 
 sticking in her chest. With her fingers she 
 could feel small hard bits of something all 
 around her, and the same hard things were 
 under her back. Whenever she would try to 
 remember what had happened, she would feel 
 herself clutching wildly for something, she knew 
 not what, and then would float off into uncon 
 sciousness. One thing she knew, and seemed 
 to know it whether she was entirely conscious 
 or not, and that was that a knife blade was in 
 her hip. 
 
 The sharp tones of a woman's voice brought 
 her back to earth when she was floating off 
 again. 
 
 222
 
 Identification of Mrs. Kichards 223 
 
 " I rang the door bell repeatedly! " 
 
 Now she knew where -she was. It was June 
 and the baby had just had her bath and was 
 sleeping on the back porch. She had weighed 
 her only that morning and Doc Andy had 
 helped. She had loitered so long over the 
 baby's bath and dressing that the morning was 
 almost gone and no work done. She must 
 have dozed in her chair, for there was some 
 body at the front door and she had not heard 
 the bell. Was it the telephone? No, it was the 
 back door after all ! 
 
 * You mus' 'scuse me, lady, but I gits so 
 imfused over bells. I thought it wa' the phome. 
 Won't you come in an' set a spell? Doc Andy '11 
 be back 'fo' long. An' what a pretty lil gal 
 you is got you mus' 'scuse me I never 
 knowed you wa' Mr. Stanley's wife I ain't 
 nebber knowed he had a wife I wouldn't a 
 hurt yo' feelin's fer nothin', you an' yo' lil 
 gal's. I mought a knowed you wa' his wife, 
 though. I could a tol' by yo' voice " Again 
 the knife was in her hip and unconsciousness 
 ensued. 
 
 Mrs. Richards looked down on the uncon 
 scious form of one of her stumbling blocks and 
 smiled grimly. She pushed the table aside and 
 went into the office. Taking down the receiver
 
 224 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 of the telephone she called the number of the 
 city hospital. 
 
 " Please send an ambulance immediately to 
 Dr. Wallace's at Seventy-seven Garden Street. 
 Dr. Wallace is out of town, and in his absence 
 his negro cook has become either crazy or drunk. 
 
 ' Yes, I am Dr. Wallace's office attendant. 
 I have just come in and found the woman lying 
 on the dining-room floor under a pile of furni 
 ture. She is delirious. Come immediately, 
 please, as I am alone in the house." 
 
 In an incredibly short time the ambulance, 
 with its white-coated crew, arrived. Mrs. 
 Richards, in the meantime, had busied herself 
 opening up the house and turning on the drafts 
 of the stoves. She did not put the dining-room 
 in order, preferring to leave it just as it was 
 when she found poor Mammy lying under the 
 pile of chairs and on the overturned anthracite 
 coal. Taking a half-filled bottle of brandy from 
 the sideboard, she hurriedly poured some into 
 a glass and placed both bottle and glass on the 
 table. 
 
 " Here she is ! I think she is drunk," she 
 whispered to the brisk young doctor in charge. 
 
 The dining-room, usually so orderly, cer 
 tainly presented a wild scene. No wonder the 
 young surgeon readily fell into agreement with
 
 Identification of Mrs. Richards 225 
 
 Mrs. Richards' diagnosis. He lifted the chairs 
 off the old woman, giving her, great relief. She 
 opened her sightless eyes and smiled. 
 
 " Now take that there knife out'n my hip an' 
 I'll git up from here an' git ter wuck." 
 
 'What is the matter with you?" asked the 
 doctor, sternly. 
 
 " Gawd in Hebben knows! I's kinder dazed 
 lak. I thought the baby was sleep on the po'ch 
 an' a lady what tu'ned out ter be Mrs. Richards 
 but what was sho 'nough Mrs. Stanley done 
 come roun' the back an* spoke kinder sharp 
 lak ter me 'bout the do' bell. But who is you, 
 please, sir? " 
 
 Mrs. Richards smiled knowingly at the doctor. 
 
 " Sounds rather intoxicated, don't you 
 think? " she whispered, pointing at the brandy 
 bottle. 
 
 "Well, rather." 
 
 ' Who is you? " persisted Mammy. 
 
 " I am Dr. Tracy from the city hospital. I 
 have an ambulance out here ready to take you 
 off." 
 
 " Oh, Gawd in Hebben, mister, please don't 
 take me ter no hawspital. Doc Andy alms been 
 a-promisin me I shouldn't nebber go ter no 
 hawspital. He done tol' me time an' time agin 
 that they kin op'rate right up in my own room.
 
 226 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 I done got it as clean as a bis'it boa'd, an I kin 
 git right up in the baid, an' he done said it 
 ain't much of a op'ration, an* I'll be up an' 
 doin' in a short while." 
 
 ' Well, I'll have to take you there now and 
 you can sleep off your drunk, and then we can 
 see about it," laughed the young man. He was 
 not a callous, unfeeling young man, but ambu 
 lance work for the city hospital had dulled the 
 finer sensibilities that he had first carried to his 
 work. 
 
 " Sleep off what? " Mammy tried to get up 
 but fell back with a groan. 
 
 "Never mind, old woman! You had better 
 be glad it isn't a jail we are taking you to." He 
 called the stretcher-bearers, and without more 
 ado Mammy was lifted up and borne away. 
 
 " What I done say? " she muttered. " Good 
 luck done gone wif the mascot ! " After that 
 she knew nothing more. 
 
 After reaching the hospital a more thorough 
 examination of the patient disclosed the fact 
 that the old woman had sustained serious 
 injuries. Her hip had been fractured. The 
 doctors also discovered the cataracts on her eyes. 
 With skillful hands the fractured bones were 
 set, and while Mammy was still under the influ 
 ence of ether, her eyes were operated upon and
 
 Identification of Mrs. Richards 227 
 
 the troublesome cataracts removed. When the 
 effects of the anaesthetic finally wore off, 
 Mammy found herself in a comfortable bed, 
 covered by fresh, clean sheets. Where she was, 
 she did not know. She put up her hand and 
 felt the bandage on her head. 
 
 "Whar is I?" 
 
 " You are in your bed in the hospital, 
 Auntie." The voice was kind and sweet. " You 
 have broken your hip, but it has been set, and 
 the cataracts have been taken off your eyes, 
 too." 
 
 "An' who is you?" 
 
 " I'm the nurse." 
 
 " How come I got here? Doc Andy done 
 said " 
 
 " Never mind, now; you must go to sleep 
 and get well." 
 
 Mammy lay quite still. Little by little the 
 whole thing came back to her. She remem 
 bered the barricade she had formed in the 
 dining-room; she remembered waking in the 
 morning and finding she was blind; she remem 
 bered lighting the kitchen fire, unlocking the 
 back door and putting on the kettle. Gradually 
 her experience in the dining-room came back to 
 her. Slowly and painfully she recalled her 
 wanderings around the room with the cofel
 
 228 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 bucket in her vain search for the latrobe stove. 
 
 " Cose, you couldn't fin' the table whin you 
 done shove it aginst the do'/' she chuckled. 
 "Ol fool nigger!" 
 
 She remembered hitting her head against 
 something hard and sharp and falling to the 
 floor. 
 
 " Cheer laig, tha's what it wa' ! An' them lil 
 hard things I wa' a-layin on wa' hard coal, 
 moughty hard! An thin Mrs. Stanley corned 
 in no, it wa'n't Mrs. Stanley, it wa' Mrs. 
 Richards but she said the same thing as Mrs. 
 Stanley 'bout ringin' the bell repeatedly an' 
 she had the same voice. Great Gawd! If'n 
 you ain't the fooles' nigger they is! They is 
 one an' the same! I been a-tryin ter 'member 
 ev'y sence she corned ter wuck ter our house 
 wha' I done hearn that voice befo'. Whe'fo* 
 she done call herse'f Richards if'n she is Stan 
 ley? What she hidin'? I mought er knowed 
 whin my Esther baby done tuck sich a hatred 
 er her that they was something wrong 'bout 
 her. An' here I is a laid up in the baid with a 
 bus'ed hip jint, an' blin' besides! Well, I's 
 gonter bide my time, bide my time ! "
 
 Chapter 21 
 A SATISFACTORY EXPLANATION 
 
 The mending of a broken hip, especially in 
 the case of a person as old as Mammy, is a slow 
 process. The bandage was taken from her eyes 
 within a few days, but the plaster cast was to 
 stay on her poor fractured hip for many weeks. 
 
 Dr. Wallace was deeply distressed at the con 
 dition of his faithful old servant. He had 
 returned from his trip a few hours after 
 Mammy had been borne away to the hospital. 
 Mrs. Richards expressed regret that she had 
 not been able to get the dining-room in order 
 before the master came home, but she had been 
 so busy, she said, with things that seemed more 
 important that she had been unable to restore 
 order out of chaos. 
 
 " How could it have happened? " asked the 
 troubled doctor. 
 
 She pointed silently to the brandy bottle. 
 
 "Not Mammy! Why, Mrs. Richards, she 
 has never taken too much to drink in her life. 
 She hates the stuff, in fact." 
 
 Mrs. Richards smiled. 
 
 229
 
 230 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Have you any reason to think she does not 
 hate it? " questioned the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, you must know your servant better 
 than I do." 
 
 "But, have you?" 
 
 " I am not inclined to make trouble in a 
 household, but I have known several times that 
 the old woman was intoxicated. This morning 
 she insisted that I was some woman whose name 
 I have never even heard before. Some fancied 
 resemblance in voice, I think, put it in her head. 
 She was quite disagreeable in her insistence." 
 
 " That wasn't like Mammy." 
 
 " No, and for that reason, when I saw the 
 opened brandy bottle and the condition of the 
 room, I naturally came to the conclusion that 
 she was a little the worse for the liquor." 
 
 " Poor, poor Mammy! She misses Esther so 
 much. I am sure that that is the reason. There 
 is nothing like loneliness for making a person 
 seek solace in alcohol." 
 
 Mrs. Richards was very helpful and sympa 
 thetic. She immediately took the reins of house 
 keeping in her hands, and when the girl arrived, 
 who was coming to be trained by Mammy, Mrs. 
 Richards put her to work with as much celerity 
 as Mammy herself would have shown. Dinner 
 was served at exactly the same hour, and while
 
 A Satisfactory Explanation 231 
 
 it lacked the divine touch of the old colored 
 cook, there was nothing to complain of in the 
 food, and the table was certainly beautifully 
 set. 
 
 Mrs. Richards was determined that Mammy 
 was not to be missed. She would show Dr. 
 Wallace that the old woman was not necessary 
 to his comfort. Of course he could keep up his 
 sentimental attachment to the ancient darkey if 
 he was of a mind to, but he was to learn that she 
 was not the only housekeeper in the world. 
 Maud, the new girl, was green but teachable, 
 and she was vastly pleased to have the more 
 important place that Mammy's timely illness 
 thrust her into. A butler was engaged, and 
 finally a housemaid. All this entailed a greater 
 expenditure, but Dr. Wallace knew nothing of 
 expenses and cared nothing about them. Money 
 was flowing into his coffers from his now 
 enormous practice, and it was rather pleasant 
 to have his establishment run on a more lavish 
 basis. The fact that it took two maids and a 
 man to do the work that Mammy had accom 
 plished formerly all by herself did not impress 
 him. He had always wanted more servants, 
 but the old woman had rebelled and objected 
 whenever he had broached the subject. 
 
 Many and frequent were Dr. Wallace's visits
 
 232 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 to the bed-ridden Mammy. He saw to it tHat 
 she had every comfort in the colored ward of 
 the city hospital. A private room was engaged 
 for her, and Dr. Wallace insisted upon having 
 a private nurse for her, although the old woman 
 almost worried herself into a fever over the 
 expense that she was sure all of these luxuries 
 must entail. 
 
 " I ain't wuth it, I ain't wuth it! " she would 
 moan. 
 
 ' Why, Mammy, you are worth whatever I 
 can do for you." 
 
 Dr. Wallace said nothing to the old woman 
 about the brandy bottle. The fact that the 
 kindly old soul had fallen from grace had been 
 a severe shock to him. He could not under 
 stand it ! Mammy intoxicated ! How it had 
 come about he could not imagine, but Dr. Wal 
 lace, in the course of his extensive practice, had 
 known of people who became addicted to alcohol 
 late in life old people, who, like Mammy, had 
 never indulged in stimulants in their youth. 
 Indeed, thought the doctor, these cases were 
 the saddest of all. He felt it was loneliness 
 that had caused it. Had he not begun to resort 
 to alcohol to comfort himself? When he was 
 tired, it seemed to rest him; lonely, it cheered 
 him up; wakeful, it put him to sleep. Could
 
 A Satisfactory Explanation 233 
 
 he blame the old woman when she had resorted 
 to a similar remedy? 
 
 Maud, the new cook, puffed up with her own 
 importance and delighted with the confidence 
 reposed in her by Mrs. Richards, was not so 
 reticent on the subject of the old woman's sup 
 posed shortcomings. She, too, made many and 
 frequent visits to her injured predecessor, and 
 as soon as Mammy was well enough to have the 
 nurse leave her alone with her visitors, the girl 
 took great delight in tormenting her. She 
 was not the meek and lowly person Mammy had 
 imagined her to be; in fact, she was quite the 
 reverse. The truth of the matter was that 
 Mammy, up and doing, Mammy, the capable 
 cook and housekeeper at Dr. Wallace's, the 
 beloved and trusted friend of her master, the 
 foster mother of her young mistress, was very 
 different from the old bed-ridden creature with 
 a broken hip, a bandage over her sightless eyes 
 and her once busy and capable hands helplessly 
 and nervously picking at the coverlid. 
 
 " How are you to-day, Aunt Mammy? " 
 asked the girl, seating herself close to the bed. 
 
 "Tollable, jes' tollable! How's all ter 
 home?" 
 
 " Oh, we alls is comin' on fine. 'Cose, we had 
 right smart cleanin' an' straightenin' up to do
 
 234 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 after we got there, but we got it all clean now, 
 an' amongst us we keeps it gran'." 
 
 ' Who you mean by you alls? Mrs. Richards 
 ain't a-cleanin up, air she? An* what you foun' 
 ter clean up? I done lef it as clean as the 
 pa'm er my ban', an* you knows it." 
 
 The girl laughed derisively. 
 
 " You might call it clean, but the butler he 
 say " 
 
 "The butler!" 
 
 " Umhum, the butler! He say he ain't never 
 come in a house where he had to work so hard 
 to git rid of lef over dirt." 
 
 " What butler you talkin' 'bout? " Mammy's 
 curiosity was thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "Dr. Wallace's butler! Don't you know we 
 all is got a butler now an* a housemaid? Sho, 
 Aunt Mammy, you can't 'spect us ladies an' 
 gemman of color, what ain't been born in 
 slavery like you is, to work like slaves. You 
 ain't never knowed nothin' better, but we, what 
 is born free an' ekal, we knows." 
 
 Mammy lay so still for a moment that Maud 
 was scared. Had she actually killed the old 
 woman with her news about the butler and the 
 housemaid? The old woman's face looked 
 indescribably gaunt, with the upper part 
 swathed in bandages, and the knotted old hands
 
 A Satisfactory Explanation 235 
 
 were motionless, lying palm upward as though 
 their work was done. 
 
 A harsh laugh bursting from the tightly-shut 
 mouth satisfied the girl that her victim was still 
 alive, and so she continued. 
 
 " I reckon Dr. Wallace was right put out 
 about your actin' the way you done his fine 
 French brandy an' all." 
 
 " What you mean? " gasped Mammy. 
 
 " I reckon you is shamed, an' now you think 
 you kin make out you don't know what I mean. 
 I mean your gittin' so drunk when Dr. Wallace 
 lef you in charge of his house. It was too 
 bad you got too happy to put the bottle away. 
 If you hadn't a lef that out, nobody wouldn't 
 have spicioned you, 'cept of course the dining- 
 room did look something awful. My mother 
 wouldn't hardly believe me when I tol' her, 
 'cause she says she's done knowed you ever 
 sence you come to this town to live, when you 
 jined her sassiety, the Lincoln No. 1, an' she 
 ain't never dreamed of you bein' that kind. 
 She says all the club members was 'stonished, 
 an* Brer Jackson say you ought to be read out 
 in meetin'." 
 
 Mammy was so quiet that Maud wondered 
 if the old woman had grasped the true import 
 of her insults. Her old face looked like a
 
 236 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 bronze mask as she lay there. And was this 
 her reward? After her long and faithful 
 service to the Wallaces in slavery and in free 
 dom, was she finally to be branded as one who 
 got drunk and betrayed her master's trust; 
 one who left dirt for others to clean up; one 
 who was spoken of in her club and church as 
 disreputable? She almost wished she might 
 die but no, not yet not until she knew that 
 her Esther baby was safely married to the 
 young Kentuckian; not until her work was 
 finished. 
 
 She reached out and tapped her bell on the 
 table. 
 
 "What is it Mammy?" asked the kindly 
 nurse who had her in charge. 
 
 " I want to see Doc Andy some time terday. 
 I'll git you to phome him, lady, if 'tain't too 
 much trouble; an' I'll git you ter show this 
 nigger gal out an' leave word to the office that 
 'Ria Johnson, whose sir name am Mammy, 
 ain't receivin' no mo' niggers. It don't make 
 no diffunce who they is, club mimbers, preach 
 ers, nor nothin'. I'm better comp'ny ter 
 myself." 
 
 Dr. Wallace came quickly. The nurse's voice 
 sounded a little excited as it reached him over 
 the telephone.
 
 A Satisfactory Explanation 237 
 
 " What is it, Mammy? You are not worse, 
 are you? " 
 
 " No, Doc Andy, I is better mos' well. 
 They's gonter take off the bandanages ter- 
 morrow. My hip is gittin* on tollable an' don't 
 pain me over much." 
 
 " Do you have everything you want? " 
 
 " Sho, I do! An' my nuss treats me jes' lak 
 I wa' white. I is done change my min' bout 
 hawspitals. Niggers ain't got no since nohow." 
 
 ' What did you want with me? " asked the 
 doctor, smiling down on his old friend. 
 
 " I want ter know if you b'lieved I wa' 
 drunk whin I fell down an' broke my hip." 
 
 ' Why why dear old Mammy," Dr. 
 Wallace took one of the gnarled hands in his 
 affectionately, "y u mustn't worry about 
 that- 
 
 " Then you b'lieved it, too? " 
 
 " I did not blame you in the least. You were 
 lonesome, I know. I never would have thought 
 of it, if you had not left the brandy bottle out." 
 
 'What brandy bottle? Who said I done 
 lef it out? " 
 
 " Mrs. Richards had not had a chance to get 
 the dining-room in order, and she reluctantly 
 pointed it out to me." 
 
 "Well, Doc Andy, I ain't nebber tol' but
 
 238 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 one lie in my life that is ter say, one black 
 lie. 'Cose, I done tol' lil kinder playful fibs. 
 That black lie was the one 'bout our baby an* I 
 ain't regrettin' it. Now. you know I is truth 
 ful, an' what's mo', you know I ain't nebber 
 been 'dieted ter sperits 'ceptin* fer a lil seasonin' 
 now an' agin, an' if you air gonter set still an' 
 see me branded as a drunk liar, why then I'll 
 jes' ax you ter let me be carried back in the 
 cha'ity ward er this here hawspital, which is 
 comf 'table enough fer niggers, an' thar I'll 
 stay 'til I kin hobble out. I's got insuriance 
 'nough ter bury me an' sick benefits enough ter 
 keep me goin' 'til I kin fin' wuck." 
 
 " Oh, Mammy, Mammy, you are cruel to 
 me! The idea of my allowing things to come 
 to such a pass. I never said you lied. Now, 
 suppose you tell me all about it." 
 
 He sat down, and Mammy slowly and care 
 fully recalled the happenings of the night before 
 her sight departed. She told of piling up the 
 chairs and pushing the table against the door. 
 Then she recounted the pitiful tale of her 
 gropings and stumblings in the dark and the 
 final catastrophe. 
 
 " Now you kin see what made the room look 
 so tumble an' mixed-up lak. As fer the brandy 
 bottle, Gawd in Hebben knows how it got thar,
 
 A Satisfactory Explanation 239 
 
 an' all in his good time he'll gib us knowledge 
 an' not befo'. Is you sho you b'lieve me now, 
 Doc Andy?" 
 
 " Yes, Mammy, I am sure. You must for 
 give me. Hereafter I'll come straight to you 
 when people say such things. You won't move 
 out in the ward now, will you, Mammy? " 
 
 " No, chil' ! But you see, I couldn't be 
 beholdin', eben ter a man what I raised from a 
 baby, if 'n he ain't got no 'pinion er me."
 
 Jim Dudley got back from Kentucky about 
 a week after Mammy's accident. Things had 
 certainly been moving in his absence. He 
 viewed with some amusement the changes in 
 the household. Mrs. Richards and her daugh 
 ter were installed at Dr. Wallace's, having 
 moved bag and baggage from their small, 
 uncomfortable apartment to the spacious guest 
 chamber over the parlor. The house seemed to 
 be full of servants. Two maids and a butler 
 bustled around, or stood bickering among them 
 selves as to whose business it was to answer 
 bells. Jim remembered with regret the quiet 
 ministrations of Mammy. Above all he missed 
 the never-failing excellence of her cooking. 
 
 He made frequent trips to the hospital to see 
 Mammy, and his coming did the old woman 
 more good than all the medicine on earth. To 
 him, and to him alone, did she entrust the read 
 ing of Esther's letters. She saved them 
 unopened until he came, and then he would 
 read them aloud. Such happy, sweet letters 
 
 240
 
 An Empty Household 241 
 
 they were, full of love for the old woman, love 
 of home and father, and sometimes even a hint 
 of love for Jim himself. She was deeply dis 
 tressed over Mammy's accident, and wrote 
 almost every day when she was not kept too 
 busy at school. 
 
 Jim also wrote replies to Mammy's letters 
 as long as the poor eyes were bandaged. A 
 long epistle must be sent to the cousin, Liza 
 Ann, in Virginia, telling her all about the 
 troubles that had befallen her kinswoman. Her 
 insurance must be collected from the various 
 sick-benefit concerns, which, up to this time, 
 had reaped a weekly harvest from Mammy's 
 wages. 
 
 " I been a-payin insuriance an' payin' insur- 
 iance 'til it wa' jes' lak pourin' water down a 
 rat hole fer all the good I got out er it, but 
 now I is reapin' the fruits er my investigations," 
 she declared, as Jim brought in a roll of bills 
 for her to put under her pillow with Esther's 
 letters. 
 
 " Mr. Peter Roche done been ter see me agin 
 an' he sayed he would git arfter that comp'ny 
 what wa' disputatious over my claim. Mr. 
 Peter done sayed the law wa' in 'zistence fer 
 jes' sich folks." 
 
 The bandage was taken off, and Mammy's
 
 242 Mammy's White "Folks 
 
 delight knew no bounds when she found she 
 could really see. 
 
 " Seein' is sho the maindest thing in life. 
 Now, whin this ol' hip gits spliced tergether, I's 
 gonter be pretty nigh as good as new. I 
 reckon them butlers an' housemaids an' what 
 not will have ter fin' theyse'fs some new jobs." 
 
 The doctors and nurses had not the heart 
 to tell her that perhaps she would never be able 
 to do much work again. The old woman lay 
 there counting the weeks when she would be 
 well enough to take up her duties at Dr. 
 Wallace's. 
 
 In the meantime, Esther was writing delight 
 ful letters to everybody at home. She was 
 having a wonderful winter but was evidently 
 giving more time to her art than to her other 
 studies. It was decided that she was not to 
 come home for Christmas, as it was a long 
 journey, but instead her father went on to New 
 York to see her. During this visit Esther 
 learned that Mrs. Richards and Lucile had 
 taken up their abode in her father's house. It 
 was a great shock to her, but she said nothing 
 to Dr. Wallace. She could hardly trust her 
 self to speak of the arrangement at all. 
 
 " Lucile is at work. Peter got her a job 
 with a lawyer friend," Dr. Wallace continued,
 
 An Empty Household 243 
 
 after he had broken the news to Esther of the 
 new housekeeper. " She is a nice girl and so 
 industrious. I am glad to be able to help Mrs. 
 Richards and her daughter a little by freeing 
 them from the financial worries that have 
 harassed them for so many years. Mrs. 
 Richards has made a brave struggle " 
 
 "Still is!" exclaimed Esther. 
 
 " Yes, still is. I cannot tell you what a solu 
 tion it is for me to have her in the house now 
 that poor Mammy is ill. I don't see what I 
 would have done." 
 
 " I might have come home." 
 
 "Oh, no! I would not have had you do 
 that." The doctor smiled at the thought of the 
 housekeeping Esther would do. 
 
 " Let me come now, Daddy, please do ! I 
 can't bear to think of you being surrounded by 
 so many strangers." 
 
 " But Mrs. Richards is not a stranger. She 
 has been my office attendant for over two 
 years." 
 
 Esther said nothing more. It was plain to 
 see that her father was altogether satisfied with 
 the existing arrangements, and objections voiced 
 by her would have little weight. 
 
 " What does Mammy think? " 
 
 " She hasn't said. Of course, the dear old
 
 244 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 woman expects to come back and do all the 
 work as formerly, but she will never be able 
 to do it never again. I am afraid she will 
 never get along with the other servants. She 
 has been the head of the house for so many 
 years it will be hard for her to have someone 
 else looking after things. I think I shall pro 
 pose a trip to Virginia to her when she is able 
 to hobble around. She could make a long 
 visit to her cousin, Eliza Ann. Then, when she 
 is well, or better (she will never be really well 
 again), she can come back home. Poor, dear, 
 old Mammy! " 
 
 Esther wept many tears over Mammy and 
 over the changed conditions at home. What 
 would home be like, she asked herself, with 
 Mammy off in Virginia and a woman whom 
 she cordially detested keeping house? Esther 
 no longer wanted to go home. The thought of 
 being under the same roof as Mrs. Richards 
 day in and day out was extremely distasteful 
 to her. How could her father and Jim like 
 her? No doubt Jim thought Lucile was a 
 thousand times nicer than she. Perhaps Lucile 
 was nicer, too and much more worthy. Well, 
 she had her art, and she thought of it with a 
 very, very big A this Art that was to be 
 her solace for the loss of the happy home which
 
 An Empty Household 245 
 
 she was sure she would never see again. She 
 kept her trouble to herself, not even confiding 
 her miseries to her dear Marian, Perhaps it 
 would have been better if she had. Marian, 
 who was a year older than her chum, was a 
 sensible, level-headed sort of girl, without too 
 great an endowment of imagination. No doubt 
 she would have viewed the situation in a more 
 practical way, and would have convinced Esther 
 that she was making a mountain out of a mole 
 hill and life was not so sad after all. 
 
 Jim's letters were a great comfort to the 
 girl in her loneliness. He sent her all the news 
 of the neighborhood, and always had something 
 bright and happy to tell about dear Mammy. 
 He seldom mentioned the new housekeeper or 
 her daughter, and when he did, it was quite 
 casually. 
 
 As for Jim himself, he had some difficulty 
 in keeping his letters on just the right plane. 
 He wanted to interest her in himself. Yet he 
 did not wish to make the mistake of being too 
 lover-like. To him, Esther was still a girl, more 
 mature perhaps than his little princess of the 
 mulberry patch, but still too young to be spoken 
 to of love. 
 
 " Another year or so," he would say to him 
 self, "and then "
 
 246 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 A solution came to Esther when Miss Hunter 
 proposed that she and Marian Carley join a 
 party of several other girls who were about to 
 take a trip to Europe under Miss Hunter's 
 direction. The trip was to last six months, 
 maybe longer. Dr. Wallace agreed to it, 
 although he had been looking forward to having 
 his child home for the summer vacation. It 
 was an opportunity not to be missed. She 
 would see the most famous art galleries in the 
 world, and could take lessons in Paris, where 
 they were planning to stay for three months. 
 
 Mammy highly approved of this arrange 
 ment. She herself was to be in Virginia, and 
 the old woman knew well that there would be 
 nothing but unhappiness for her baby in the 
 house with Mrs. Richards. To Peter she con 
 fided her suspicions concerning the woman. 
 Hobbling into his office one day, to Peter's 
 great surprise, Mammy had said: 
 
 " That there woman thinks she gonter ketch 
 Doc Andy, but she is mistook. Nobody ain't 
 gonter ketch him. She gonter plan an' plan, 
 but the time air gonter come whin Doc Andy'll 
 see her as she am. She tryin' ter buck up 
 against a mascot, an' th'ain't no use. I done 
 seed her face now, an' I knows fer sho she's 
 Mrs. Stanley. She done tried fer me not ter
 
 An Empty Household 247 
 
 see her. She ain't nebber been ter the hawspital 
 ter see me since my ban'age wa' tuck off, an' 
 whin I wint home ter git my things ready fer 
 my trip, she wint away an' stayed away. But 
 as luck would hab it, I met her on the street. 
 My eyes is open now. I done had a creepy 
 feelin' 'bout her voice all the time, but yo' ears 
 ain't ter say so trus'wu'thy as yo' eyes. You 
 know what I think, Mr. Peter? " 
 
 " What is it Mammy? " Peter was much 
 perturbed about his old friend. Perhaps it 
 would be well for him to marry, but was Mrs. 
 Richards the right woman? True, she was 
 handsome and clever and tactful, but in spite 
 of all these tilings, Peter was obliged to confess 
 that he never had quite liked her. And why 
 this change of name? 
 
 " I tell you what I think," Mammy continued. 
 " I think ev'ything about that woman is a lie, 
 'cep'in' her face, an* that tells the truf. I 
 know her face am putty an' all that, but that 
 there face tells jes' what kinder pusson she am. 
 It tells she am a liar. If I had a had my eye 
 sight whin she corned in the fust beginning I 
 could a tol' Doc Andy not ter trus' her, but it's 
 too late now. He done got kinder dependent on 
 her, an' if we go ter him a-bearin tales, he 
 mought up an' marry her or sompen. No, Mr.
 
 248 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 Peter, we's gotter play our cyards lak Marse 
 Bob Wallace useter say : ' Play 'em close ter 
 yo' belly.' Now, if I go ter Virginy, Mr. Peter, 
 you mus' kinder keep yo' eye open fer po* Doc 
 Andy. He ain't mo'n a chil' in some ways, an' 
 you an' me is gotter look out fer him. Don't 
 you know she wants ter git me out er the way? 
 Didn't she put that there brandy bottle out an' 
 make out ter Doc Andy that she foun' it thar 
 an' that I had been drinkin'? She's scairt er 
 me, an' she got good reason ter be, but she 
 ain't scairt er you an' I'm a gonter leave matters 
 in yo' ban's." 
 
 " How does Dr. Dudley feel about her? " 
 " Lawsamussy, Mr. Peter, Dr. Jim am par- 
 tiam ter all lady folks. He ain't got no 
 'scrimination whar they is. That's the onlies' 
 'jection I see ter Dr. Jim. But, then, they 
 sho do spile him. I reckon it's nachel. He 
 movin' out, he tells me. Done rented a flat er 
 his own." The old woman chuckled. ''' He 
 say he misses my victuals an he gone got imber- 
 gestium from some er the new-fangled messes 
 that there Maud an' Mrs. Richards done made 
 up. He say that I mus'n' tell on Mm, an' 'cose 
 I ain't, but that their idea of style is ter take 
 the insides out er one thing an' put it in the 
 peelin' of anudder. They mus' stuff the
 
 An Empty Household 249 
 
 mattersies wif cowcumbers, an' the cowcumbers 
 wif mattersies, an' whin they cyarn't think of 
 no other way ter disguise the tase what Gawd 
 gib ter a veg'table, they sprinkles nuts over it. 
 Me an' Dr. Jim is useter ol'-fashioned cookin' 
 what stan's on its own bottom." 
 
 When Mammy left Peter Roche's office, she 
 felt easier in mind than she had been for many 
 weeks.
 
 Chapter 23 
 DISGUISING A HOME 
 
 Esther was on her way home! Two winters 
 and a summer had passed since she left for 
 school, and now she was coming back. Dr. 
 Wallace was happy at the prospect of having 
 his girl with him again. He had missed her 
 sorely at first, but gradually the sense of loss 
 grew to be less acute. Mrs. Richards and 
 Lucile had seen to it that he was not lonesome. 
 Indeed, he was such a busy man that he had 
 very little time in which to be lonesome. 
 
 Matters had not gone quite so well for Mrs. 
 Richards as she had hoped. Long before this 
 she had planned to have brought the timid 
 doctor to declare himself. By this time she 
 expected to be mistress of his home in name as 
 well as in fact. Several times she had fancied 
 he was on the point of some kind of declaration, 
 but each time something had occurred to stop 
 him. Usually it was Peter Roche, who had a 
 way of calling much too often to suit the widow. 
 It almost looked as though the lawyer divined 
 the fact that his friend was in danger. 
 
 250
 
 Disguising a Home 251 
 
 Mammy, too, continued a thorn in the side. 
 She had made her visit to Virginia, but had not 
 stayed many months. Just when Mrs. Richards 
 began to breathe freely, congratulating herself 
 on the removal of one stumbling block from 
 her path, back came the old woman. 
 
 " I knows I ain't much 'count," she said to 
 Dr. Wallace, " an' I ain't able ter do all yo', 
 wuck, but I's still fitten ter do sompen. You 
 done said you'll gib me a penshum, an' I been 
 a-thinkin I'd rent me a lil house over in the 
 ward, near the aidge er town, not fur from the 
 cyars, an* I'll take in a lil washin', sech as yo' 
 shuts an' Dr. Jim's jes' enough ter keep me 
 from gittin' too lazy an' I mought keep a 
 few bins ter holp out wif. I 'low I'll plant me 
 some laylock an' vi'lets an' some portumlacca, 
 cause th' ain't nothin lak portumlacca ter put 
 heart in a pusson. All I asks is whin you gib 
 me my penshum, gib it ter me in cash money. 
 I ain't no han' ter go to no bank." 
 
 And so Mammy took a little house on the 
 edge of town and there established herself. Dr. 
 Wallace was glad the old woman retired so 
 gracefully from her labors. He had feared 
 she would insist upon coming back as cook and 
 housekeeper. In that case, he would have 
 dreaded the outcome, knowing as he did that
 
 252 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 she would never put up with the other servants. 
 As it was, she had a way of pouncing down on 
 them when she made her semi-weekly visits for 
 the doctor's shirts, speaking her mind quite 
 freely about the way they did or did not do 
 their work. 
 
 She usually came in the evening, and always 
 insisted upon seeing the doctor. Many times 
 her visits had interrupted a tete-a-tete between 
 Mrs. Richards and the master, much to that 
 lady's chagrin. Everything seemed to work 
 against her in bringing the doctor to a declara 
 tion. If it wasn't Peter Roche, it was Mammy, 
 and sometimes even Lucile was dense or hateful 
 (her mother could not decide which) and 
 refused to go to her room after supper, in spite 
 of the meaningful glances cast at her. 
 
 And now Esther was coming home! She was 
 to be back for her twentieth birthday. Peter 
 was planning to fill the whole house with tea 
 roses, and Mammy was preparing to bake a 
 huge cake, made of eggs laid by her own hens. 
 Everybody was happy except Mrs. Richards 
 and her daughter, but they deemed it policy to 
 simulate a gaiety they did not feel. 
 
 " You are not as clever as you thought," 
 said Lucile. She was alone with her mother 
 after they had retired to their adjoining rooms.
 
 Disguising a Home 253 
 
 " It seems to me that if you are ever to catch 
 Dr. Wallace, you should do it before the girl 
 comes home." 
 
 " Well, if you had not stuck to me like a 
 burr, I might have brought him to the mark 
 this very evening." 
 
 "Pooh! Nonsense! I can't run off to my 
 room every evening after supper. I believe 
 Dr. Wallace likes me just as much as he does 
 you, anyhow." 
 
 ' That is not the question ! You are not 
 very clever yourself, or you would have caught 
 Dr. Dudley before this wretched girl gets 
 back." 
 
 Lucile flushed painfully, and her mother 
 continued. 
 
 " Oh, ho! So that is what is the matter! I 
 wish you joy, my daughter, but I can tell you 
 it is a great mistake. I fell in love with your 
 father just such another lady killer as Jim 
 Dudley. The way to hold that kind of man is 
 to let him do the loving. Of course, I am not 
 saying that Jim Dudley is an unscrupulous 
 man like your father, but he is like him in that 
 all women adore him. Better nip any feeling 
 in the bud that you may have for him, but catch 
 him if you can." 
 
 Dr. Dudley had been very kind and friendly
 
 254 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 to both mother and daughter. He felt sorry 
 for them and liked them. They showed him 
 only their best and most charming sides. He 
 had been quite attentive to Lucile. Often he 
 took her to the theatre or brought young men 
 to call on her, and did many little things to 
 make life pleasant for the givl. But only so 
 far and no farther did he go in his friendship. 
 Lucile did everything in her power to be 
 attractive to him, but his attentions always 
 stopped short of any love-making. 
 
 " Sometimes I think he is engaged," she said 
 to her mother. 
 
 " Nonsense ! He is no more engaged than 
 Dr. Wallace. They are just game fish and hard 
 to hook. If one kind of fly does not attract 
 them, we shall have to try another. If all hooks 
 fail, there are still nets to be tried." 
 
 " Mother, what do you mean? " 
 
 " I simply mean that I do not intend to let 
 my fish escape. You can do as you like about 
 yours. When I get mine safely landed I may 
 be able to help you with yours. In the mean 
 time, remember that ' All is fair in love and 
 
 war'.' 
 
 " Do you think Jim could be engaged to this 
 Esther?" 
 
 " Of course not ! She was nothing more than
 
 Disguising a Home 255 
 
 a child when she went away is one still, I 
 fancy. Jim Dudley is simply the kind of man 
 who likes all women but no one woman." 
 
 " What are you going to do when Esther 
 comes home? " 
 
 " Put her in the wrong all I can ! I am going 
 to be so kind arid good to her that she will 
 hate me more than ever. I only hope that 
 foolish old darkey will not tell her that she 
 recognized my voice and knows I am Mrs. 
 Stanley. I am careful to keep away from her, 
 so she does not get a good look at me. I have 
 given orders that she shall never be admitted 
 without being announced, and then I get out 
 of the way. Dr. Wallace thinks I go because 
 of the old woman's insolence. I have let him 
 understand that that is the reason." 
 
 " I wish you had not changed our name. I 
 can't see why you did it," complained Lucile. 
 
 ' Well, I would have been a fool to settle in 
 this town as Stanley's wife after the unsavory 
 reputation he had left here. I got along much 
 better as the widow Richards. Honesty is the 
 best policy only so long as it works." 
 
 " But is dishonesty working? " sneered 
 Lucile. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know! We have a roof over 
 .our heads and a comfortable home, plenty of
 
 256 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 good food, better clothes than we ever have 
 been able to afford before, and besides, strong 
 prospects of being able to establish ourselves 
 at least I see strong prospects of being able to 
 establish myself. You can judge for yourself 
 what your prospects are." 
 
 Mrs. Richards had one plan for Esther's dis 
 comfort which she worked to a nicety. She 
 was determined to make the place as strange 
 to the girl as she could, and so when the news 
 came that Esther was coming home, she imme 
 diately suggested to Dr. Wallace that it would 
 be a gentle attention to the returning traveler 
 if he should have the house redecorated. Dr. 
 Wallace, pleased at her thought, gave her carte 
 blanche in the matter. 
 
 The old house was turned inside-out. Paper- 
 hangers and painters were kept busy for weeks. 
 With a kind of diabolical ingenuity Mrs. 
 Richards managed to alter the place so that 
 it presented an entirely different aspect. Even 
 the green shutters were painted a dun color, 
 and the great lilac bushes trimmed back until 
 they resembled miniature poplar trees. The 
 interior was decorated according to the latest 
 dictates of fashion, and was in a very high 
 key something she had once heard Esther 
 say she abhorred. The pleasant old rooms, with
 
 Disguising a Home 257 
 
 their quiet tan walls and dark oak wainscoting, 
 were made gorgeous with light, satin-striped 
 paper and gleaming, white paint. The heavy 
 chandeliers, with their intricate patterns of fern 
 leaves and lilies that had served as models for 
 Esther's early attempts at picture cutting, were 
 regilded until they shone like new. Pictures 
 were re-hung, their positions changed. Some 
 of them Mrs. Richards did not like. These 
 were discarded altogether and stacked up in 
 the attic. Furniture was placed differently. 
 Even the sideboard in the dining-room was 
 moved. Poor Mammy could hardly have found 
 her way around the house now, even with the 
 best of eyesight. 
 
 Dr. Wallace was not at all happy in the 
 transformation of his pleasant but rather shabby 
 old home. But his housekeeper was so sure that 
 it would please Esther that he submitted with a 
 good grace to the discomforts of the few weeks 
 that it took to work the wonders. Mrs. 
 Richards kept right behind the decorators, and 
 forced them to hurry with the work. In con 
 sequence, everything was finished on time, and 
 the house was placed in apple-pie order for the 
 return of the young traveler. Mrs. Richards 
 prided herself on her efficiency, and well she 
 might.
 
 258 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " I have prepared another room for your 
 daughter," she casually remarked to Dr. Wal 
 lace. " The one she used to occupy was small 
 and not nearly so attractive as the front room, 
 the one I Jiave had. I think it is proper that, 
 as the daughter of the house and a grown 
 young lady, she should have the best room in 
 the house." 
 
 " Oh, but Mrs. Richards ! I would net have 
 you give up your room! And do you think 
 I^sther would like to change her room? She 
 has always had the other one. It was near 
 Mammy " 
 
 " Ah, but Mammy is no longer here, and 
 perhaps being near Maud would not be so 
 pleasant. Of course, I am sorry if I have been 
 officious " 
 
 " Not at all, my dear madam ! " If there was 
 anything the doctor dreaded, it was hurt feel 
 ings, and the thing he had always liked best 
 about Mrs. Richards was that she was not 
 constantly being overcome with feelings. " But 
 I hate to have you put up in a smaller room." 
 
 " Oh, you must not think of me ! Only think 
 what small quarters I have been accustomed to 
 since my poor dear husband " 
 
 ' Yes, yes, but now you must be comfortable. 
 Why do you not take the room Dudley had? "
 
 Disguising a Home 259 
 
 " Well, if you insist; then I can put Lucile 
 in the small room near the servant's room. She 
 would be quite happy there, I am sure. I hope, 
 Dr. Wallace, you will not tell Miss Esther of 
 the improvements we have made in the house 
 when you go to New York to meet her. Let 
 it be as a surprise to her." 
 
 The doctor meekly promised to do as he was 
 bid.
 
 Chapter 24 
 HER JOYFUL ARRIVAL 
 
 As Esther tripped down the gangway, Dr. 
 Wallace, standing on the pier, was overcome by 
 a feeling of uncertainty and mystery. It was 
 the same feeling that had come to him on that 
 memorable night almost twenty years before, 
 when Mammy unwrapped the old serge jacket 
 and the folds of blanket that enveloped the 
 little foundling. On that night, he now recalled, 
 his feeling had been one of wonder; and now, 
 as he beheld the beautiful young woman who 
 called him father with so much love and sweet 
 ness in her voice, he found himself again won 
 dering. After all, into what manner of woman 
 had the little waif grown? 
 
 Truly, she might have sprung from the heart 
 of a tea rose, as he had fancifully told her, 
 when, as a child, she had questioned him as to 
 the mystery of birth. Her daintiness and love 
 liness had increased with the years, and a 
 gracious poise had joined with her maidenly 
 dignity, giving added grace to her bearing. 
 The bud had opened, and the rose was in bloom. 
 
 260
 
 Her Joyful Arrival 261 
 
 There was no denying that his little girl had 
 grown into a woman. A kind of shyness seized 
 the doctor as the beautiful young woman in her 
 stylish, brown traveling-suit and becoming furs 
 came tripping down the gangway. Her willful, 
 sun-kissed hair, which refused to stay tucked 
 under the close, brown-velvet toque, had found 
 its way out, and burst into a million little curls 
 and ripples, making a soft glory around the 
 eager young face. 
 
 " Daddy, oh, Daddy ! I'm so glad to see 
 you! I wondered if you would come to meet 
 me I might have known you would you 
 always do the lovely thing now, tell me, how 
 is Mammy? " punctuated with hugs and kisses. 
 " And Peter and Jim and Mike and 
 everybody? " 
 
 Esther had intended to inquire politely con 
 cerning the welfare of Mrs. Richards and her 
 daughter, but when she got to them, in her fire 
 of questions, she had trailed off faintly into 
 " and everybody." 
 
 " Fine ! Fine ! Dudley wanted to come meet 
 you, too, but both of us couldn't leave. I think 
 he hoped until the last that I would make way 
 for him but I didn't. You would rather 
 have had me, wouldn't you ? " He smiled the 
 question at the vivacious girl.
 
 262 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Why, Daddy, what a question! " The Tea 
 Rose turned into an American Beauty. Dr. 
 Wallace smiled quizzically. 
 
 " I told him you would rather see me. As 
 for Mammy, she is growing better every day, 
 and declares, when you come home, she will be 
 well again. Peter is the same old Peter. Mike 
 is the best chauffeur in town, I am sure, and 
 is getting the cars in wonderful trim for your 
 return. Mrs. Richards and her daughter, 
 Lucile, are well and quite er er interested 
 in your homecoming." He had almost given 
 away the secret of the old house and the new 
 decorations, but stopped in time. " I hope you 
 will find Lucile congenial, and make a friend 
 and companion of her." 
 
 " Oh, yes, that would be charming, I am 
 sure! " faintly. 
 
 Esther had determined to be everything that 
 was lovely to her father's housekeeper and her 
 worthy daughter. She had finally talked the 
 matter over with Marian, and the two girls had 
 discussed her unreasonable dislike of the inof 
 fensive Mrs. Richards from all angles. Esther 
 had blamed herself entirely and had resolved 
 to turn over a new leaf. The more practical 
 and less imaginative Marian was an excellent 
 balance-wheel for Esther.
 
 Her Joyful Arrival 263 
 
 " What did you hate about her? " she had 
 asked. 
 
 " I hated the way her nose pinched in at 
 times and the way she stuck her needle in the 
 baby caps." 
 
 Now, this was no reason for hatred in 
 Marian's philosophy, since poor Mrs. Richards 
 had not made her own nose, and surely a 
 method of sewing was not sufficient grounds 
 for undying dislike. 
 
 " Is she after your father? " 
 
 "After him how?" 
 
 "Oh, come, now, Esther! After that is, 
 catching him ! " and when Esther still looked 
 mystified, "marrying him, goose!" 
 
 " Oh, Marian ! How horrid ! I never even 
 thought of such a thing. I am sure, while I 
 don't really like Mrs. Richards, that she would 
 be above anything so so out of taste and 
 and repulsive." 
 
 "But marrying your father would not be 
 repulsive or out of taste, either. Widowers 
 have married before this." 
 
 "Oh, but my father is different! Why, 
 Marian, do you know he adored my mother so 
 that he has never yet been able to speak of her? 
 His SOITOW must be just as fresh as it ever was, 
 because he couldn't even make up his mind to
 
 264 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 take me to her grave. She is buried somewhere 
 in New York, or near New York, and when I 
 came here to school, I longed to go to it, but 
 when I got up spunk enough and asked him to 
 tell me where it was, he could not speak. I 
 never saw a face so full of sorrow and misery 
 as his when he looked me in the eyes and then 
 turned away. He simply couldn't trust him 
 self to utter a word." 
 
 " He might have written," was Marion's 
 practical suggestion. 
 
 "So he might, but I did not like to open 
 up the subject when I found it hurt him so. 
 After all, a grave is nothing, and I know 
 where her lovely spirit is." 
 
 And so it was with a chastened heart that 
 Esther was going back to the home where 
 Mrs. Richards reigned supreme. Sometimes 
 Marion's question, " Is she after your father? " 
 would flash through her mind, but she would 
 none of it. It was absurd. Mrs. Richards 
 was a very kind, nice person who had managed 
 to make her father comfortable and lighten his 
 labors. If she had not taken up the house 
 keeping when Mammy got sick, who could 
 have done it? Surely, thought Esther, only 
 a very unkind daughter would want her poor 
 father to live in discomfort, with his accounts
 
 Her Joyful Arrival 265 
 
 all mixed up and no one to answer the tele 
 phone, just because his own dear daughter did 
 not like a certain lady's nose. She deserved to 
 have her own nose well pinched! 
 
 The Carleys also had arranged to meet their 
 daughter in New York, and decided to remain 
 there a few days. Esther and her father were 
 pleased at the turn events had taken, as they 
 both had a thousand interesting things to relate 
 to one another. 
 
 As the train sped along with the travelers, 
 taking them as fast as steam and a smooth road 
 bed could manage back to their southern tity, 
 it seemed to Esther that her European trip 
 had been but a dream. The churches and pal 
 aces, pictures and statues, were no longer real, 
 no longer so very important. The persons she 
 had met on the steamer and in the various cities 
 where they had stopped long enough to make 
 friends, seemed like characters in a book. The 
 study of art, into which she had plunged with 
 such vim during their stay in Paris, was for 
 the moment forgotten. She could think of noth 
 ing but home home and father! home and 
 Mammy! home and Peter! home and Jim! 
 dear Jim, whom she put last, as though in 
 duty bound, but who so often came into her 
 thoughts first of all!
 
 266 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 She could shut her eyes and see the old 
 house standing high up from the street, with 
 its grassy terrace that she had rolled down so 
 often when a child. The lilacs must be send 
 ing forth many leaves by now, and the violets 
 would be in bloom. No doubt the wisteria was 
 beginning to show specks of lavender in its 
 gracefully hanging buds. The green shutters 
 would be stretched wide to let the spring sun 
 shine find its way into every corner of the com 
 fortable, homey old library and parlor. 
 
 She thought of the housekeeping games she 
 and Marian had played under the great old 
 lilac bushes. There never were such huge, 
 friendly lilac bushes as theirs. The thick 
 branches bent over and touched the ground, 
 and the floor of their play-house on the turf 
 was always dry except after drenching rains. 
 She decided she would get Daddy to have 
 some benches put under those same bushes. 
 She was too old to play at housekeeping now, 
 but it would be such a nice place to sit and 
 sew and read and dream especially dream. 
 The thought came to her it would also be a 
 nice place to go to get away from the house 
 keeper and her daughter, but she pinched her 
 nose viciously to get such a thought out of 
 her head.
 
 Her Joyful Arrival 267 
 
 Then the picture of the library would flash 
 across her mind's eye a pleasant low-toned 
 room with its 'dim old portraits and crowded 
 book-shelves. 
 
 "And, oh, my own room! What a joy to 
 get out of hotels and go back to one's own 
 room! I'd rather look out of my little win 
 dow and see the magnolia tree with its waxy 
 blossoms peeping out from the shiny, dark- 
 green leaves than to behold the whole of Paris 
 from the Eiffel Tower." 
 
 So Esther mused as the train carried her 
 closer and closer to that home she loved so 
 n inch. Sometimes her thoughts would dwell 
 on Mrs. Richards, but she put that lady out 
 of her mind as much as possible. The con 
 versation she had had with Marian kept coming 
 back to her, but she chose to be amused at such 
 a suggestion. Marry her father, indeed! 
 Absurd! 
 
 Home at last! Peter and Jim were stand 
 ing on the platform to greet them, and Mike 
 was in readiness to load the baggage into the 
 new, spick-and-span car. Peter must be kissed 
 for old time's sake, in spite of the fact that 
 he wouldn't bend over a bit and his face got 
 so red that it did not cool down for hours. 
 Jim Dudley had been all joy and excitement
 
 268 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 over the prospect of having his dear little friend 
 home again. But he was not at all prepared 
 for this beautiful young woman, who was not 
 little at all and was nobody's sweetheart for 
 the asking. For once the young man was 
 overcome in the presence of a member of the 
 fair sex. He hung back, abashed like any 
 country bumpkin. He never expected to find 
 himself envying Peter Roche. He might 
 admire and respect the middle-aged bachelor, 
 but never envy him. Now he felt he would 
 give anything just to be Peter to have this 
 adorable vision in brown, with the rose-petal 
 face and the glory of hair, put her arms around 
 him and kiss him. 
 
 They shook hands quite formally, but brown 
 eyes looked into grey, and grey eyes looked 
 into brown, and what they saw seemed to please 
 both colors. 
 
 " Princess," he whispered, " welcome to your 
 kingdom! "
 
 Chapter 25 
 NOTHING THE SAME 
 
 "And Mammy where is Mammy?" cried 
 the girl as the new car responded to Mike's 
 expert hand. "I'm nearly dead to see 
 Mammy!" 
 
 " Mike might go get her as soon as we are 
 landed at home," suggested Dr. Wallace. 
 
 " Oh, let me go, too ! I'll stop long enough 
 to see home, and then I'll go and get Mammy." 
 Esther had finally become used to the thought 
 of not having Mammy at home . with her, but 
 she was not reconciled to it. Of course, she 
 knew Mammy would not get along with the 
 other servants; knew she was old and crabbed, 
 no doubt; but still she was Mammy, the only 
 mother she had ever known and the only per 
 son who would ever talk to her about her 
 mother. 
 
 The car stopped in front of the old Grant 
 house. Esther had eagerly noted the land 
 marks as they sped along the streets. There 
 was the corner where she had turned off so 
 many years to go to school! There was the 
 
 269
 
 270 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 drug store where chocolate sodas were most 
 delectable! There the old church stood where 
 she had been christened and where, on so many 
 Sundays, she had gone to sleep religiously, 
 leaning against her father's arm. Now they 
 were in their own street Garden Street - 
 and now home! 
 
 Eagerly she peered from the car, hardly able 
 to wait for Mike to open the door. But he 
 had made a mistake! Stopped at the wrong 
 house! Where were the lilac bushes? Where 
 the wonderful old twisted wisteria vine that 
 had shaded the porch so beautifully? Where 
 were the green shutters through which the light 
 had sifted so softly and pleasantly on hot sum 
 mer days? Even the violets were gone, dug 
 up and thrown away, while stiff, spaded beds 
 flanked the gravel path that led from the street. 
 
 " Oh, Daddy ! " was all she could say. 
 
 " I hope you like it, dear. Mrs. Richards 
 has taken great pains to get everything ready 
 for you. It was too bad to have to trim the 
 bushes and vines back so far, but she says the 
 florist insisted it must be done to save the 
 shrubs, and the vine was making the parlor 
 damp, so she tells me." 
 
 "And the violets?" faintly --"and the 
 shutters?"
 
 Nothing the Same 271 
 
 " Oh, I never thought about the violets! The 
 shutters needed painting badly, and Mrs. Rich 
 ards thought you would like them done in 
 another color." 
 
 " Of course ! " Esther's voice sounded so 
 dead that she wondered if it could be hers. She 
 bit her lips violently. She was glad Peter and 
 Jim had left them at the station. They were 
 to come to supper on that evening, her birth 
 day supper, and by that time, maybe, she would 
 feel better about all of these awful changes. 
 Jim must not know how she felt. All of her 
 old hatred of Mrs. Richards was back again in 
 full force. 
 
 'Vandal! Vandal! And she knew I would 
 hate it ! She did it on purpose ! " her heart 
 cried out. 
 
 " I must leave you now, my dear," Dr. Wal 
 lace said. " I'll send the car back for you 
 immediately; Dudley tells me I am wanted 
 badly on some case. Mike can bring in your 
 bags later on." Esther kissed him. She was 
 glad he was going. She wanted to be alone 
 for a few moments and pull herself together. 
 After all, maybe the woman had thought she 
 was improving things but the poor lilacs! 
 The poor old twisted vine! 
 
 Slowly and sadly she went up the steps.
 
 272 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 And so this was her homecoming! She was 
 going up the steps of her home like any visitor. 
 She tried the handle of the door. It was 
 locked. In Mammy's day it was always left 
 unlatched, so she could run in and out without 
 having to ring. 
 
 She wondered if Mrs. Richards knew she 
 was standing out there, and if she did, why 
 she did not have the door open and a greeting 
 of welcome for her. She glanced at the parlor 
 windows. . The shutters were bowed not 
 opened wide to let the spring sunshine in, as 
 she had pictured. Through the slats she was 
 conscious of eyes watching her. With a mighty 
 effort at self-control, she took a long breath and 
 rang the bell. 
 
 Like any visitor, she was kept waiting for 
 a few minutes; then the door opened and she 
 was ushered into the hall by the very correct 
 maid who answered the bell. 
 
 "I am Miss Esther! I'll just go straight 
 to my room." 
 
 " But Mrs. Richards said to show you into 
 the parlor. She will be down tereckly," said 
 the girl with a touch of impertinence, nothing 
 quite tangible but something that Esther was 
 quick to note. For a moment she felt inclined 
 to resent it, but no, she would stick to her
 
 Nothing the Same 273 
 
 resolve to be gentle and forbearing. She 
 quietly went into the parlor. 
 
 Changes, more changes! Gingerly she 
 seated herself on the edge of a chair. The 
 pictures were all moved and hung differently; 
 some of them even gone! Where was the little 
 fanciful painting she had made of her mother 
 when she was only twelve years old? Gone, too! 
 What was her father thinking of? Had he 
 fallen into the clutches of this person so that 
 he even allowed her to take the pictures out 
 of his parlor? And the chandelier, all picked 
 out with shiny gilt! Tears of rage filled her 
 eyes, but she brushed them away as she heard 
 Mrs. Richards descending the stairs. 
 
 " How do you do? " was the formal greeting 
 exchanged between the two women, and since 
 both of them had asked it, neither of them 
 answered it. 
 
 " I should like to go to my room, please." 
 
 ' Why, certainly, but would you not like 
 some refreshment after your journey? " 
 
 " No, I thank you," she said. " Mike is 
 coming for me in a few minutes, and I should 
 like to go to my room first." 
 
 ' Your room is all ready for you. I have 
 put you in the front room, over the parlor. I 
 thought you would like the best room in the
 
 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 house. I consulted your father and he agreed 
 with me." 
 
 "Not have my own. room! I I " 
 Esther choked. 
 
 "Of course, now that you are grown and 
 will no doubt make vour debut, it seemed fit- 
 
 v 
 
 ting to me that you should have a better room 
 than the one you had occupied. It is very 
 near the servant's quarters and not so desirable 
 as the front room." 
 
 "All right!" Again Esther controlled the 
 tears that were burning her eyes. 
 
 There was certainly nothing to complain of 
 in the front room. It was a spacious chamber, 
 as clean as clean could be, with a huge, four- 
 posted bed and handsome, heavy furniture. 
 The curtains were stiff and fresh and the place 
 still smelt of new paper and paint. Esther 
 peeped out of the window and her eyes fell 
 on the trimmed lilac bushes and spaded beds. 
 
 " They look like new graves," she shuddered. 
 " Ah, there is Mike ! Dear Mike, he at least 
 is the same." She opened the window and 
 called down to the chauffeur who drew up his 
 car to the curbing. 
 
 " Bring my bags up here, please, Mike, and 
 I'll be right down." 
 
 Without a word to Mrs, Richards she flew
 
 Nothing the Same 275 
 
 down the steps and jumped into the car. 
 
 " Let me drive, Mike. I haven't had the 
 wheel for months and months." 
 
 " Sure, Miss, and I thought ye would want 
 to see how the new car runs itself," and the 
 delighted Mike made way for her. 
 
 " She's on the front seat with the chauffeur," 
 Mrs. Richards remarked to the housemaid who 
 was peeping out of the window. Mrs. Rich 
 ards had managed to make the servants dread 
 the appearance of the young mistress. She had 
 talked much about the way Mammy had spoiled 
 her and how exacting she was. And then, the 
 turmoil incident to her arrival had naturally 
 thrown much extra work on the servants. This 
 they resented, and laid the blame on Esther. 
 
 " Tell me about Cora, Mike Cora and lit 
 tle Esther." 
 
 ' Well, Miss Esther, Cora and me are going 
 to get married," blushed the chauffeur. 
 
 "Oh, Mike, how splendid!" 
 
 " You see, my mother has took such a shine 
 to the kid - 
 
 ' Yes, and you took such a shine to Cora. 
 Oh, Mike, I am so glad! When is it to be? " 
 
 " We were just awaiting for you to come 
 home." 
 
 "Well, I'm here now, thank goodness!"
 
 "My baby! Mylilbaby! Oh, you is growed 
 puttier an' puttier!" 
 
 "More like my mother. Mammy?" 
 
 "P'r'aps! But you still favors yo'se'f pow'- 
 ful much." 
 
 " Oh, Mammy, it is so lovely to see you. 
 And you are just the same, only you can see 
 better, can't you, Mammy?" 
 
 " Sho, I kin see wif my eyes as good as you 
 kin, an* I kin hear wif my years as good as 
 anybody. My ol' laigs is all that is done gib 
 out. Ifn it hadn't a been fer these ol' no 
 'count laigs, I'd a been standin' on the flat form 
 ter be the fust ter set eyes on yer." 
 
 ' Well, now you are coming home with me. 
 I simply must see you. Do you know that 
 this is my birthday? I am twenty to-day. I 
 couldn't have a birthday party without you, 
 Mammy." 
 
 " Sho I knows it. Ain't I been a-squeezin 
 my hins ter git aigs ter make a cake fer yer? 
 I wan't gonter hab no one-two-three cake sea- 
 
 276
 
 The Plan of Patience 277 
 
 soned wif co'ner-sto' vernilla the kin' yo' paw 
 is had ter eat lately. Cose, that's good ernough 
 fer jes' plain ev'yday, but buthdays is diffunt 
 an* yo' buthday is eben mo' diffunt. No, sir, 
 I wa' termined ter hab a weddin' cake style 
 seasoned wif Frinch brandy an' raised wif the 
 whites er eighteen aigs. Th'ain't no alum 
 powders nor delemterious substance in this hyar 
 cake. It air composed er elbow grease. Thank 
 Gawd, my arms is mo' fitten than my laigs. Ifn 
 I could jes' walk aroun' on my han's, I'd be 
 right spry." 
 
 The old woman hobbled to the table, and 
 gently raised the cloth covering the wonderful 
 cake. 
 
 "Oh, Mammy, Mammy, what a beauty! 
 Mammy, just give me a teensy pinch, one down 
 underneath! Nobody will know." 
 
 " The same baby! " declared Mammy, de 
 lightedly. " I almost knowed you'd want a 
 pinch, so I done cooked a teensy extra one fer 
 you'n me, icin' an* all." 
 
 The old colored woman and the young white 
 one munched their little cake and looked 
 lovingly at each other. They dared not let 
 themselves mention the subjects that were 
 closest to their hearts, and so they put them off, 
 pretending th t at time had stood still and the
 
 278 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 most important thing in life was the tiny, white- 
 iced cake. 
 
 " Have you seen the house and all the the 
 improvements, Mammy?" finally ventured 
 Esther. 
 
 " No, my chiF, I ain't been able ter git over 
 ter the gret house fer quite a spell. It air 
 putty nigh three weeks sence the rheumatiz 
 kinder hit me. I been a-havin lumbago in my 
 knee jints. I been onable ter do my lil washin' 
 here lately. What they been improvin' ? " 
 
 And then Esther told the old woman of all 
 the cruel changes in her home. Together they 
 wept, Esther for the home, and Mammy for 
 Esther. 
 
 " I reckon Mrs. Richards didn't mean no 
 harm. She jes' ain't bawned ter hairloons. 
 She laks varnishy things what kin be bought 
 in the sto'. I done hear tell she varnished the 
 dinin' room table what air got a polish er 
 gemerations er Wallaces. She don' mean no 
 harm, honey." 
 
 " But my room ! What right has she to move 
 me out of my own room? Why, Mammy, I've 
 been dreaming of getting back in my own dear 
 room." 
 
 " Ain't she done sayed yo' paw knew it? " 
 
 " Yes, but "
 
 The Plan of Patience 279 
 
 " Now, chil' yo' ol' Mammy is all kin' er 
 fools, but she knows some things an' you listen 
 ter her. Don't you make no trouble 'bout all 
 these here changes fer yit a while. You jes' 
 perten' lak you is pleased." 
 
 "But how can I?" 
 
 " Sho! You done play-acted a plenty ter 
 know how ter fool her. You perten' you is the 
 princuss an' Mrs. Richards is a wicked step 
 mother or witch or sumpen, an' you is got a 
 tarsk ter fool her ter save yo' paw." 
 
 " All right, Mammy, if you will be my fairy 
 godmother? " 
 
 ' Well, the fust thing I is a gonter do is ter 
 tell you that you ain't called on ter set too 
 much sto' on changes. They ain't in nothin' 
 but 'pearances. You mus' put yo' min' on 
 sompen what cyarn't change. Yo paw ain't 
 changed. He lubs you jes' as much as eber." 
 
 "But does he, Mammy?" 
 
 "Sho he do! An then Mr. Peter Mr. 
 Peter ain't got no mo' change in him than the 
 mountings. He done come ter stay." 
 
 "Yes, dear old Peter!" 
 
 " An' then Dr. Jim Dudley He ain't he 
 the same?" 
 
 "I don't know. I reckon so." Esther 
 blushed.
 
 280 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " You knows so. An' as fer the ol' house, 
 why, chil', the house is jes' the same. Paint an' 
 paper cyarn't kill a house. It didn't take many 
 days ter put on the yaller stuff you say Mrs. 
 Richards done choosed, an' it wouldn't take but 
 jes' so many days ter scrape it off an* git it 
 the color you laks. The laylock roots is thar, 
 too, an' will sprout up agin. The ol' twis'ed 
 vime will sen' out shoots too, an' 'fo' you knows 
 it happened, It will be as good as new. An* we 
 kin plant mo' vi'lets in the ol' places." 
 
 " But, Mammy, how can we when you say I 
 must pretend to like it all ? " 
 
 " Why, chil', that there Mrs. Richards is 
 a-ridin' fer a fall. She's too low-lifed ter pros 
 per long. She done wuck her devilmint putty 
 nigh ter a finish. You jes' bide yo' time lak I 
 done an' wait." 
 
 Mike had a more cheerful passenger going 
 than he had coming. Mammy had given her a 
 new outlook. " Things are not so sad after 
 all," thought Esther as she sat by Mammy on 
 the back seat, the precious cake with all its 
 glory of icing held carefully between them.
 
 Chapter 27 
 ESTHER AND JIM 
 
 Esther had learned self-control. That fact 
 was proven conclusively when she smiled at 
 Mrs. Richards and thanked her for all the 
 improvements she had made on the house for 
 her sake. She did it in the presence of their 
 guests at the birthday supper. Her father 
 looked pleased, but Jim and Peter looked 
 mystified. They hated the changes, and longed 
 to say how they hated them. Mrs. Richards, 
 who was rather hoping for trouble, intending 
 thereby to put Esther in the wrong, did her 
 best to be gracious, but the white dents came 
 around her nose and her mouth shut very tight. 
 Mammy, who was peeping in at the door, gave 
 a chuckle. 
 
 Mammy was taking great delight in annoying 
 Mrs. Richards by looking at her keenly. That 
 lady had been able to avoid Mammy up to this 
 time, but now that Esther had come home, the 
 old woman was privileged to take the place she 
 had formerly had. She was in and out of the 
 dining-room, sometimes assisting the pert maid
 
 282 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 to serve. She gazed earnestly at Lucile, too, 
 as though recalling something. 
 
 Lucile, in spite of herself, could not help 
 being attracted by Esther. Esther was all 
 loveliness and kindness to the girl. 
 
 " She is not responsible for her mother," she 
 said to herself. "Nobody is not that I'd 
 mind being for my own mother." 
 
 Esther's eyes were shining and her color 
 reflected her excitement. She was so gay that 
 nobody at the table dreamed how her heart was 
 beating under the beautiful new Paris gown. 
 Mammy knew, and she shook her head sadly as 
 she peeped from the pantry door. 
 
 Mrs. Richards had never seen Esther " carry 
 ing on," as Mammy called it, when the girl was 
 so full of spirits that she actually bubbled over. 
 She had always been quiet and reserved in her 
 presence dull the older woman had thought 
 her. Now her wit sparkled and flashed from 
 person to person. Her charm was like an elec 
 tric current and brought sparks from everybody 
 with whom it came in contact. Even old Peter 
 arose to the occasion and actually made a pun 
 the first in his life. 
 
 Doctor Jim gazed like one bewitched at the 
 beautiful girl. Her gown was of cloth of gold, 
 that darkened in the folds to the exact color of
 
 Esther and Jim 283 
 
 her Hair. He marveled at the snowy whiteness 
 of her neck and arms. He forgot to eat, and 
 forgot to be pleasant to his neighbor, Lucile. 
 He was oblivious to everything but the fact that 
 Esther was home and that he could hardly wait 
 to get her by herself and tell her how he adored 
 her. Twenty was old enough, surely, he thought. 
 She had been out in the world and had met other 
 men. And by this time, she should know her 
 heart. If he could win her, he would not be 
 taking advantage of her youth and inexperience. 
 If he could! Well, if he failed at first, he could 
 keep on trying. Jim Dudley felt very doubtful 
 of his own desirability as he gazed in the eyes of 
 this golden girl. He had known that she was 
 lovely as a child. He knew also that the day 
 would come when he would tell her of his love, 
 but he could not have known into what a glowing 
 woman that child would grow, nor could he real 
 ize that the love he had for the eighteen-year-old 
 girl would turn into a consuming flame. 
 
 Would the supper never end? He looked 
 knowingly at Mammy, who was helping to 
 remove the plates. The old woman knew how he 
 felt. He was sure of it, because she seemed to be 
 hurrying the pert maid and the dignified butler, 
 who were more stylish than expeditious in their 
 serving.
 
 284 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " You alls thinks if you co'ses yo' victuals, you 
 is did all that is ter be did, " the old woman 
 declared, as she remonstrated with the two ser 
 vants in the pantry. * Young folks don't want 
 ter set all night while you is stylishfying. You 
 alls b'lieves in mo* plates than things ter eat off 'n 
 'em. Anybody'd think white folks had pertitions 
 in they innards. I b'lieves in soup plates an' din 
 ner plates an' butter plates an' pie plates but 
 all of this puttin' two green peas on a plate an' 
 snatching it off an' an' puttin' a soggy 'tater on 
 anudder wif a bit of feesh no bigger'n a sick 
 cat could eat, an' then a takin' that away, an' 
 so on, I tell yer 'tain't our way. No wonder Doc 
 Andy is lookin' so flabbyfied. He don't git 
 'nough ter fill out his hide. All these here lil 
 samples you han's him ain't stickin* ter his ribs. 
 You ain't called on ter keep a-fillin' his glass so 
 full, neither." 
 
 " Over at last ! And now, will these people 
 ever let me have a moment with Esther? " 
 thought Jim. Peter looked as though he were 
 there for all night, so fascinated was he by the 
 beauty and charm of his godchild. Esther had 
 given him another kiss when she thanked him 
 for the birthday roses, and at supper she had 
 appeared wearing one in her hair. 
 
 Dr. Wallace, who had drunk rather too many
 
 Esther and Jim 285 
 
 toasts, was in a gay mood and beamed on every 
 body. As for Jim, were he not descended of a 
 long line of resolute pioneers, who refused to 
 give up no matter how great the odds, he would 
 have left without having that word with Esther 
 that must be spoken and spoken with no third 
 person present. Mammy finally arranged it for 
 him. She had come to say good-night to her 
 godchild, and by skillful management, made 
 Peter decide to leave for his bachelor quar 
 ters on the car that had been ordered out to take 
 her home. Esther went into the hall to bid 
 good-bye again to her two dear friends. When 
 Mammy and Peter had left, the blood of the 
 frontiersman asserted itself and Jim drew her 
 into the library and shut the door. 
 
 " At last! I thought it would never be over 
 but I'm not going to waste time talking about 
 it there's too much more to say, and I'd better 
 begin before somebody comes butting in." 
 
 " I think I had better go back to Daddy 
 and and Mrs. Richards and her daughter," 
 faltered Esther. There was an ominous shine in 
 Jim's eyes that suddenly made her feel very 
 young and small and a little scared. " If you 
 will let me pass, please, Jim, dear." 
 
 ' Why, Esther, darling, I can't let you go 
 yet. I've been waiting for centuries to say some-
 
 286 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 thing to you, and now I simply have to get it out, 
 even if you don't want to listen. Will you listen, 
 Esther? " 
 
 !__!_ don't know." 
 
 "I could tell you lots better if you sit down. 
 Won't you let me hold your hands? " 
 
 " Well, I believe I could listen better if we 
 just sit down and I hold my own hands." She 
 seated herself on the sofa, drawing to one side as 
 Jim seated himself beside her. 
 
 Jim remonstrated gently. " I don't see the 
 use, dearest, in putting distance between us. 
 Nothing will ever keep me away from you 
 except one thing. And you wouldn't say that 
 one thing, would you, dear? Of course, if you 
 have found a new prince, a foreign nobleman or 
 something, I shall have to submit, but you 
 haven't done that, have you? " 
 
 ]ST__o!" 
 
 " I know you are mighty young, and, dearest, 
 maybe I ought to let you look around before 
 I tell you this thing I'm going to tell you, but 
 I but suppose you look around and find 
 somebody else, what in the thunder will I do? 
 Why, little girl, I've loved you ever since 
 I saw you sitting in the mulberry tree ever 
 since you came sweeping into the room and 
 bowed so low I had to help you up. I knew it
 
 Esther and Jim 287 
 
 all the time, but somehow I never realized how 
 dear you were to me until you went off to school. 
 I have waited and waited for you to come home. 
 But I did not know how beautiful you would 
 be, and now that you are home, I find I love 
 you ten times as much as I thought I did. Oh, 
 Esther, won't you ! " 
 
 :< Won't I what?" she whispered. 
 
 " Won't you be my princess and let me be the 
 prince forever? " 
 
 Esther looked at him, her heart in her eyes. 
 She remembered what dear old Mammy had 
 said to her about changes in people being the 
 only thing that mattered. Jim had not changed. 
 His eyes were the same kind, merry ones that 
 had looked into hers when he said, " Rise, 
 princess ! " And he loved her and wanted to 
 marry her! Love him? Of course she loved 
 him! She couldn't remember when she hadn't. 
 But now the feeling was different. It wasn't 
 like loving Daddy and Mammy and Peter and 
 Marian. Loving them did not make her all 
 choked up. This new kind of love, the kind she 
 felt for Jim, almost hurt. 
 
 He took her hands in his. His voice came to 
 her in accents of languorous softness. 
 ' What did you say, dearest? " 
 
 She hung her head. She wanted to tell him
 
 288 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 how much she did love him, but the heart that 
 had been beating so wildly under the cloth-of- 
 gold somehow got up in her throat. 
 
 "What is it, darling?" 
 
 "I I Oh, Jim, I wish my mother could 
 be alive!" 
 
 " Poor little Esther! " He kissed her hands. 
 Just as he did so, the door opened quickly and 
 Mrs. Richards came into the room. 
 
 "Pardon me!" she said, "but Dr. Wallace 
 sent me to suggest that Miss Esther might want 
 to excuse herself and retire, as she had rather a 
 strenuous day." There was an air of insolent 
 triumph in her bearing of which both Esther 
 and Dr. Dudley were conscious. They gave each 
 other a meek farewell, Jim glancing into the 
 girl's troubled eyes and whispering: 
 
 " To-morrow! "
 
 Chapter 28 
 SETTING A TRAP 
 
 Andrew Wallace could not get it straight in 
 his own mind how the thing had come to pass 
 how he, most bashful and reserved of men, had 
 been discovered by Lucile Richards with his 
 arms around her mother. 
 
 He remembered quite well that he had drunk 
 several toasts in -honor of Esther's birthday and 
 in consequence had felt quite cheerful and lively. 
 Champagne always made him forget his bash- 
 fulness. He remembered that the party had gone 
 into the parlor together and that Peter had made 
 a pun quite a funny pun. But he could not 
 recall it. Of course, the funniest part of the 
 pun was that old Peter had made it. Mammy 
 had come in, and he remembered telling her he 
 would have her pension ready for her on the 
 morrow cash money and no checks and she 
 had said she would come over on the trolley. 
 Then he remembered that everybody had left the 
 room except Mrs. Richards. She had sunk down 
 in a chair and said that she was tired. He had 
 asked her if he could get her anything, and she 
 
 239
 
 290 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 had suggested that perhaps a bit of champagne 
 might help her she had not taken any at din 
 ner. There was one bottle left on ice. She 
 would fetch it, she said. 
 
 ' Won't you drink with me? " she had asked 
 in a kind and friendly tone. No doubt the poor 
 woman had overworked herself preparing the 
 birthday supper. He had said yes, and together 
 they finished the bottle. 
 
 Then without warning she had put her head 
 down on the arm of her chair and burst into 
 tears. Her shoulders were shaking with sobs. 
 She could not speak, but had motioned him to 
 leave her. Of course he could not do that. She 
 might be ill. He bent over her, patting her on 
 the back and begging her to let him do some 
 thing for her. He could not swear to it, but his 
 impression was that she had raised herself up 
 out of her chair and he had assisted her. How 
 he got his arms around her was a mystery, but 
 around~her they were, and at that moment Lucile 
 entered the room. 
 
 He could not remember exactly what had 
 happened after that. He had a faint idea that 
 Lucile had kissed her mother and shaken hands 
 with him. Why, he did not know. It seemed 
 strange that a young woman who lived in his 
 house and with whom he had just supped and
 
 . Setting a Trap 291 
 
 spent the evening should be shaking hands with 
 him. This matter of handshaking was worrying 
 him more than anything else as he lay in his bed 
 the morning after the birthday party. Why 
 should Lucile kiss her mother? He could not 
 remember having seen her do so before, even 
 when the girl went off to her office in the morn 
 ing. They did not seem to be a very affection 
 ate pair. Esther was always kissing him, but 
 Esther was such a loving child. 
 
 What an old fool he was to have drunk so 
 much champagne. His head felt like old times 
 before Esther came into his life. He had not 
 had too much to drink for twenty years. Cham 
 pagne had usually been served on Esther's birth 
 day, but never more than was required to drink 
 to many happy returns of the day. The butler 
 must have kept his glass filled without his real 
 izing it. 
 
 A cold bath restored him somewhat, but the 
 behavior of his housekeeper and her daughter 
 still puzzled him. He wished he had a cup of 
 Mammy's coffee. In the old days she used to 
 bring it to his bed-side, those youthful days 
 before his mascot came to live with him, when it 
 was the usual thing for him to drink too much 
 at night and have a headache the following 
 morning. He could recall how sad her kindly
 
 292 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 brown face would look as she handed him the 
 coffee. What good coffee it always was, too! 
 Maud's coffee was either strong and muddy, 
 with a bitter taste, or weak and watery. She 
 never seemed to strike the happy medium. He 
 had not liked to complain to Mrs. Richards. 
 She tried so hard to have everything nice, and 
 no doubt it would have hurt her feelings to have 
 him find fault. He wondered why she herself 
 did not notice how poor the coffee was. 
 
 What in the deuce had the woman cried about ? 
 He hated to see women cry. Well, no doubt the 
 poor woman regretted the occurrence too. Such 
 an invaluable office attendant, he reflected, must 
 hate herself for having indulged in the feminine 
 weakness of tears. Another time he must be 
 careful and not be too sympathetic. She might 
 not understand. He heartily hoped there would 
 not be another time. He wondered how long 
 it would take Esther to learn how to keep house. 
 Mammy might take her in charge and show her. 
 He hoped she would not lean towards so many 
 fancy dishes. 
 
 He decided not to eat any breakfast. The 
 thought of what Maud would serve him was 
 abhorrent. A cup of strong coffee at a restau 
 rant would set him on his feet again, and doubt 
 less poor Mrs. Richards would be relieved at his
 
 Setting a Trap 293 
 
 - \ 
 
 absence, after having been so foolish as to weep 
 in his arms the night before. He ordered the 
 car and was gone before the ladies of the house 
 hold were stirring. 
 
 The angel of sleep had not dealt very kindly 
 with those ladies during the night, and now that 
 morning had come, all three of them were trying 
 to make up for the wakeful hours they had 
 spent. Esther had been too happy and excited 
 to sleep. She was sorry not to be in her own 
 bed in her own room. To dream of Jim there 
 would have been far sweeter. On the other 
 hand it was fun to woo sleep for the first time 
 in the guest chamber. One could amuse one's 
 self, after the manner of girls sleeping in a 
 strange room, by naming the four corners for 
 four men friends. In the morning one was sure 
 to laugh when one woke up, glanced at the 
 corner one was facing, and ascertained the man 
 one was sure to marry. 
 
 Lucile could not sleep for weeping. How she 
 hated herself! The evening had been one of tor 
 ture to her the torture of watching the love- 
 light in the eyes of Jim Dudley. But the light 
 did not shine for her, as she so ardently had 
 hoped it might. It burned for Esther Esther, 
 who had everything and whom everybody loved. 
 Peter and Mammy had just left when Lucile
 
 294 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 had seen Dr. Dudley lead Esther into the library 
 and shut the door. She had rushed up to her 
 room for the storm of tears she felt was coming. 
 Before she had quite wept herself out, her 
 mother had knocked hurriedly on her door, com 
 manding her to open it and listen to her. With 
 a heart full of bitterness she had consented to be 
 a party to the fraud her mother was about to 
 perpetrate on their kind and generous host. Her 
 part was to stand in the hall until given a signal 
 from her mother; then she was to enter the 
 parlor. She quickly perceived that Dr. Wallace 
 had been drinking too much to know what he was 
 doing, or to take in the fact that she was con 
 gratulating him on his having won the heart of 
 her mother. She wondered if he remembered 
 anything at all about it, or if her mother would 
 be forced to remind him of what had passed 
 between them. All that had passed had been a 
 few kindly, maudlin words from the physician, 
 who was trying to comfort a lady in distress, 
 and then when the signal came and Lucile had 
 entered, she found her mother locked in his arms 
 as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. 
 
 ;< It was a low thing to do! Don't speak to- 
 me!" she had exclaimed when her mother fol 
 lowed her to her room to talk things over. 
 
 " Ah, you are cross because you are not so
 
 Setting a Trap 295 
 
 clever," sneered the older woman. " I inter 
 rupted a very pretty scene between Esther and 
 your friend a moment ago. I am afraid it is all 
 up between you two unless something occurs to 
 intervene." 
 
 " I don't want anything to occur! I am sick 
 of all of this intrigue." 
 
 " Well, well ! Go to bed, child, and you will 
 feel better about it in the morning. I am cer 
 tainly obliged to you for helping me out. I'll 
 do the same for you if I get the chance." 
 
 Mrs. Richards went to her room humming a 
 little tune. How happy she was! The hard 
 times were over for her. Perhaps she would 
 spend the rest of her life in affluence. How for 
 tunate that Dr. Wallace was such a gentleman! 
 Even if he had been too deep in his potions to 
 know what was going on, the slightest reminder 
 would be all that was necessary. He would be 
 the last man on earth to try to crawfish out of an 
 engagement, even if he had been insensible 1 of 
 making it. She would straighten it all out on the 
 morrow. In the meantime, sleep ! But sleep was 
 not for her, either. Plans and plans and more 
 plans crowded through her brain. 
 
 Esther was the most difficult problem to attend 
 to. Maybe it would be wiser to encourage the 
 match between her and Dr. Dudley, as that
 
 296 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 would make things much simpler for them all. 
 Poor Lucile! It was too bad. If it could be 
 managed differently she would do it. It was a 
 pity to allow such a desirable prospect to escape. 
 " And how I do hate the minx ! " she 
 exclaimed. " I'd like to hurt her and that old 
 nigger, too ! "
 
 Chapter 29 
 A PATIENT'S IDENTITY 
 
 Bright and early Mrs. Richards was in the 
 office. She looked as fresh and clean as a lily 
 in her spotless white linen dress. She was irri 
 tated that Lucile should have come to breakfast 
 with heavy eyes and a sullen expression. Could 
 it be that the girl was not going to play the 
 game? It was a relief to learn that the doctor 
 had gone off on an early call, as she did not want 
 him to see Lucile. She was also pleased that 
 Esther had decided to breakfast in her room. 
 
 She needed the time to think and plan. Lucile 
 had dragged herself off to work, and Esther, 
 no doubt, would not appear for hours, as she 
 had much unpacking to do. Mike came with a 
 message from Dr. Wallace, who gave a list of 
 his calls for the morning in case he should be 
 needed. A sealed envelope containing Mammy's 
 pension was also sent. Dr. Wallace always saw 
 to it that his faithful old servant had this pen 
 sion exactly on time, and it was always in crisp 
 new bills, as Mammy would have naught to do 
 with banks and checks. 
 
 297
 
 298 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 The bell rang. She heard a man asking in a 
 husky voice for the doctor. 
 
 " He won't be in for an hour," the butler 
 answered. 
 
 " I'll come in and wait." 
 
 What a bore to have a patient sitting around 
 the office for a whole hour, especially when she 
 had so much to think about, and bills to make 
 out besides! The man was ushered in by the 
 butler. With a curt nod in his direction, but 
 without looking at him, she went on with her 
 work. The patient seated himself where he could 
 take in the clean-cut profile of the white-clad 
 figure. He gazed at her attentively as she bent 
 over her orderly desk. 
 
 " Aren't you going to speak to me, Lou? " 
 
 For a moment her heart stopped beating, and 
 then it hammered so violently that she was forced 
 to put her hand on it to still its clamor. 
 
 " Dick Stanley! " she gasped. " What do you 
 want? " 
 
 " I want about everything a man can want. 
 First, I'd like a kiss. Don't look so disgusted ! v 
 I know I'm pretty seedy, but I'm clean enough. 
 A man's own wife might put up with a little 
 seediness. You are my own wife, you know." 
 He came towards her. 
 
 "Don't touch me, you brute!"
 
 A Patient's Identity 299 
 
 " Oh, come now, I'm not such a brute ! You 
 left me before I left you. Neither one of us is 
 an angel. I say, old girl, you have remained 
 deucedly handsome. What are you doing here in 
 Andrew Wallace's home? I never was more 
 surprised." 
 
 " Oh, you did not come here to see me then? " 
 in a relieved tone. ' You did not know I was 
 here?" 
 
 " How should I? I came to see Wallace for 
 auld lang syne, hoping to get a little cash out 
 of him. I hear he has prospered. I fancy you 
 are in his hire, and must know. What does he 
 make a year? " 
 
 " None of your business ! " 
 
 " Oh, don't be so strict with me, Lou! I swear 
 I am not going to bother you. Let's be friends. 
 What's your grouch? " 
 
 "Grouch, indeed! Here I have struggled 
 along to take care of myself and Lucile that's 
 Lucy, I call her Lucile now " 
 
 " More stylish, eh? Tell me about the kid! " 
 
 ' Well, I have taken care of the both of us, 
 and now that she is on her feet and I am begin 
 ning to see some chance of establishing myself, 
 here you come along don't touch me, I say! 
 I hate you! I wish I had divorced you twenty
 
 300 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Well, why didn't you? " 
 
 " I would have if I thought there was any 
 chance of your ever turning up again.'* 
 
 " I tell you I won't trouble you ! Does Wal 
 lace know you are the wife of his old poker com 
 panion? " 
 
 " No, I call myself Mrs. Richards. He thinks 
 I am a widow." 
 
 " Is Wallace still a bachelor? " 
 
 " Oh, no, a widower. He has a daughter who 
 was twenty yesterday. His wife died when she 
 was born." 
 
 ' That's funny. It was just about twenty 
 years ago that I left this burg and he was sup 
 posed to be a bachelor then. I remember the 
 last night we had a little game, a terribly windy, 
 rainy night in March. Wallace had a run of 
 luck that wiped me out it was that night that 
 some woman left a baby on his doorstep. I 
 remember I guyed him by suggesting it was his. 
 Of course, I knew it wasn't we all knew that 
 Wallace's middle name was Joseph but it 
 made the old nigger cook madder than hops. I 
 wonder what he did with the kid. Just like him 
 to keep it." 
 
 " Was it a girl ? " inquired the woman, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " Yes! It was all wrapped up in an old serge
 
 A Patient's Identity 301 
 
 jacket, and there was an envelope of patterns 
 and some white thin stuff in the bundle. I 
 remember it quite well. A guy named Peter 
 Roche was here, too." 
 
 " Do you know, Dick, I'm almost glad you 
 have come back? I can do a lot for you if you 
 will promise to keep yourself hidden. Dr. Wal 
 lace does make a tremendous income, and if all 
 goes well, I can control it. You will have to help 
 me, though." 
 
 "Help you! How?" 
 
 " Help me by keeping out of the way! " 
 
 " Hump! I have been helping you for more 
 than twenty years!" He laughed. "What's 
 your game? " 
 
 " I am going to marry Andrew Wallace, and 
 I'll see to it that you spend the rest of your days 
 in comfort." 
 
 ' That's a dangerous game, old girl. Sup 
 pose I object." 
 
 ' That's nonsense. You don't care a rap. 
 There is no use in pretending you do." 
 
 ' You always were a cold one. That's one 
 reason I " 
 
 " Never mind all that ! Nobody knows I am 
 Mrs. Stanley, and if anyone did, what difference 
 would it make so long as you don't make your 
 appearance? You look pretty down-and-out
 
 302 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 hardly fit to make a living and here I offer 
 you a place on Easy Street. All you have to do 
 is disappear again." 
 
 " But I must see little Lucv first." 
 
 V 
 
 ' That's just what you mustn't do at least 
 not for a long time. The girl is fully capable 
 of making a fool of herself." 
 
 " I'm glad of that. A woman ought to be 
 capable of making a fool of herself on occasion. 
 It's more human. But I came to see Wallace, 
 hoping for a small loan. I'm dead broke. Just 
 got to this city last night and have not yet had 
 my breakfast." . 
 
 " I haven't any change in the house only 
 a few cents. But I can give you a check." She 
 thought rapidly. A check might lead to the 
 identification of this husband whom she wanted 
 to disappear. There was Mammy's money! 
 Why not give him that? She could put the old 
 woman off until she could get the cash for her. 
 
 "Here, take this! There is enough here to 
 keep you in comfort for quite a while. Now, go ! 
 Don't come here, for goodness sake! Write to 
 me, if you must, but don't come. Remember 
 my name is Mrs. Richards." 
 
 He left, and she watched him as he walked 
 up the street. Was this the man she had once 
 loved this broken, middle-aged roue? Ah,
 
 A Patient's Identity 303 
 
 well! There was no time for sentimentalizing. 
 There was work to be done. She called the 
 housemaid and told her to answer the office tele 
 phone; then with a triumphant smile on her face 
 she mounted the stairs and tapped at Esther's 
 door.
 
 Chapter 30 
 THE UNBELIEVABLE STORY 
 
 A sorry, little figure, wretchedness written 
 into every outline, Esther stood in the middle of 
 her room, her open trunks, half unpacked, lying 
 all around her, and her pretty clothes scattered 
 over bed and chairs. Was she asleep had she 
 dreamed all the terrible things that Mrs. Rich 
 ards had just been telling her? Was she Esther 
 Wallace or was she not? Mrs. Richards said 
 not that she was a foundling, nameless, living 
 on the charity of Dr. Wallace. 
 
 That was terrible unbelievable! But no, 
 not so terrible as the other thing the woman had 
 mentioned. She had said that she was to marry 
 her daddy! Her daddy her own dear daddy? 
 No, that couldn't be. There must be some mis 
 take. Her heart cried out against the thought. 
 Lies lies they must be lies! Her daddy 
 would not send this heartless woman to tell her 
 this terrible thing about her birth! And what 
 was it she had said about Jim dear Jim, who 
 was all but her's? A selfish crime for her to 
 marry Jim ! How ridiculous ! Ruin his career 
 
 304
 
 The Unbelievable Story 305 
 
 pull him to the dust those were the phrases 
 that had been thrown at her. What did these 
 things mean? The woman had said that Jim 
 would never have spoken to her of love if he 
 had known that she was a foundling. 
 
 A torrent of sobs overcame the little, dejected 
 figure. And then the thought came of her 
 mother the mother of whom she had dreamed 
 so often. Was all that a lie, too? Was her 
 mother none of the beautiful things she had 
 thought her to be? Was her love for her all 
 based on a lie? Had her whole life and hap 
 piness been built upon an untruth? And Mammy 
 was Mammy a liar, too, with all her wonder 
 ful tales of her mother's golden hair and blue, 
 blue eyes, her beautiful nature and tidy habits? 
 And what about her father's devotion to his 
 young wife; his grief over her death so sharp 
 that he never could speak of her? Were these 
 all lies? 
 
 What was she to do? She couldn't stay in 
 the house with all of these people who hated her. 
 Mrs. Richards hated her, or she could not have 
 told her those terrible things even if they were 
 true. Her father no longer loved her, or he 
 would not have had a stranger tell her that she 
 was not his own child. He might have felt that 
 she must know about it, but if he loved her, even
 
 306 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 the least bit, he would have put his arms around 
 bar and gently and tenderly told her the truth. 
 Softened by lore, the truth might not have been 
 so horrible. 
 
 Jim loved her, but when he knew about her, 
 he would be sorry he had told his love. Thank 
 God. she had not had a chance to answer his 
 question with the fatal word that lay in her 
 heart and eyes and trembled on her lips. She 
 would not ruin his career for worlds. 
 
 " 111 go to Mammy! " she cried. " Mammy 
 can tefl me the truth. Mammy loves me no mat 
 ter what I am." 
 
 She piled the pretty clothes back in the boxes 
 and trunks. 
 
 "IH have to take some clothes, but only 
 enough to keep me decent until I can earn my 
 living. Luefle can have all these," she thought, 
 bitterly. " I wonder if she hates me, too." 
 
 ** I mustn't take this suitcase. It's too hand 
 some. There's one up in the attic that will do." 
 
 Quickly she climbed the attic stairs. Mrs. 
 Richards' energy had not extended to the attic. 
 It was the one place in the house that had 
 remained untouched bv her efficiency. The 
 trunks stood against the wall as of yore and 
 chairs and tables were piled up in the 
 r. There stood the old valise. There was
 
 The Unbelievable Story 3CT7 
 
 the chest with the costumes for tableaux. She 
 opened it. The queen's crown, crushed and out 
 of shape, was on top. 
 
 Poor little queen! 77 she sighed, straight 
 ening out the tinsel points. 
 
 There was also an old trunk in which Mammy 
 kept odds and ends. It was open. Evidently 
 Mrs. Richards had piled a lot of things in it when 
 she had re-decorated the house things she had 
 decided were of no value. 
 
 Sticking out from this pile, y^gfluT- saw the 
 frame of the picture she had painted and pre 
 sented to her father on her twelfth birthday. She 
 pulled it out. 
 
 '' Poor Mother! Poor littk imaginary 
 Mother! I am going to take you with me, I 
 wonder what else is in this trunk." 
 
 She laughed and cried over the soiled shelf- 
 papers, with their wonderful friezes of birds, 
 beasts and fairy queens. Mammy had saved 
 them all. Dear Mammy! What was this? An 
 old blue-serge jacket! Whose was ft? Not 
 Mammy 7 s she always wore black and it was 
 too small for Mammy besides, Esther slipped 
 it on. It just fitted. Could it be the very jacket 
 she had come wrapped in? Mrs. Richards had 
 spoken of an old serge jacket. Maybe the 
 envelope of patterns was there, too. In the next
 
 308 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 handful, it came to light, wrapped in some bits 
 of yellowing cloth. 
 
 " Baby's first clothes," she read on the 
 envelope. There was a picture of a round- 
 cheeked baby dressed in all its finery and on the 
 back a mysterious chart showing how to cut the 
 most clothes from the least cloth. " Poor little 
 Mother! You are not imaginary any more. You 
 are real. You are real, and I believe you loved 
 me. You love me still! " 
 
 Still wearing the jacket, and with her treas 
 ures clasped in her arms, Esther flew back to 
 her room. It wasn't such a bad-looking little 
 jacket when it was smoothed out. It had rather 
 a jaunty air. 
 
 " I am going to wear it when I leave. This, 
 at least, I am entitled to. This is the tea rose 
 I came from this little, old jacket! " she cried. 
 
 Rapidly she packed the old valise, putting in 
 only the simplest and most indispensable articles. 
 She crept downstairs, the shabby suit-case quite 
 weighting her down. Without meeting anyone 
 she slipped out the back door. Mike was in the 
 garage rubbing up the new car. He looked up, 
 grinning, pleased to have a visit from the little 
 mistress. 
 
 " Mike, will you do something for me? " 
 
 " Sure, Miss, anything under hiven! "
 
 The Unbelievable Story 309 
 
 " Will you take me somewhere and never tell 
 a soul where I have gone? " 
 
 "Sure! You wouldn't be asking me if it 
 wasn't right! " and Mike jumped in his car and 
 skillfully backed it out of the garage. He was 
 somewhat mystified at the appearance of the 
 young mistress. The shabby blue jacket and 
 battered hat did not look like one of the elaborate 
 Parisian outfits she was supposed to have brought 
 back with her. And the old valise was certainly 
 not the one that he had brought from the station. 
 
 " Take me to Mammy, Mike. And remember, 
 never tell! " 
 
 But when she arrived, Mammy was not at 
 home. Esther knocked first at the front door 
 and then the rear; then went all the way around 
 the little whitewashed cottage into the wood-shed, 
 and even into the chicken house, scaring a big 
 blue hen off her nest before she had laid her daily 
 egg- 
 
 " She's not here, Mike, but I'll just wait/* 
 she called. " Now, remember, you are not to tell 
 anyone that you brought me here." 
 
 " Yes, Miss! Shall I come back for you? " 
 
 " No, I thank you, Mike. You are very good 
 to me. Good-bye, Mike. My best love to Cora 
 and little Esther."
 
 Chapter 31 
 ESTHER LEARNS THE TRUTH 
 
 Mammy had started on her way to Dr. Wal 
 lace's at an early hour. She had planned to help 
 Esther unpack and put away her things. 
 Besides, it was the day for her pension, and she 
 was as regular about drawing her pension as 
 about everything else. Once a month she would 
 arrive, and each time would find that the doctor 
 had left it for her in crisp new bills in a sealed 
 envelope. She had another reason for hurrying 
 over, and that was that she too had seen the love- 
 light in Jim Dudley's eyes, and she felt sure 
 Esther would have something to tell her. 
 
 " My lamb, my lamb!" she muttered as she 
 walked along the street, after alighting from the 
 trolley. " She was as booful as the day las' night 
 an' Dr. Dudley looked lak he gonter eat her up. 
 If it come ter pass lak I see it a-doin', I'll die 
 happy." 
 
 "Whe'fo' you all time talkin' 'bout dyin'?" 
 Mammy's second voice now came into play. " I 
 gon ter lib mebbe ter rock anudder cradle. 
 They's a plenty er spunk lef in me yit." 
 
 310
 
 Esther Learns the Truth 311 
 
 " Hi, somebody a-comin out er the gre't house," 
 she remarked as she turned the corner. " Doc 
 Andy is got mo' praxis than anybody in town, 
 I hearn." 
 
 " Look lak I done seed that there man befo'. 
 Sence I got my eyesight back I sho kin see fur 
 up the street. He got on a red necktie, too. I 
 wan't never no hand fur red neckties on gem- 
 mans, 'less'n the red air kinder quietfied an' the 
 gemman air refimed 'nough ter carry it off." 
 
 The man and Mammy met and passed one 
 another. He paid no attention to the old woman. 
 He was occupied in counting a roll of crisp new 
 bills which he had taken from an envelope, care 
 lessly throwing the envelope on the ground. 
 Mammy eyed him closely. 
 
 " Twenty year ain't improved you none," she 
 mumbled after he had passed her and turned 
 the corner, " but it ain't changed you much 
 either. You air the same Stanley, only broader 
 an' squatter an' blacker. I sho am tickled I done 
 corned along this street at this time. You air 
 still keerless, too, a-making dirt wherever you 
 goes an' throwin' papers in front er Doc Andy's 
 house." 
 
 She stopped and picked up the envelope. 
 Plainly written on it in the doctor's hand was 
 "Mammy's Pension."
 
 312 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 "Umhurn ! You done been in ter see yo' lubly 
 wife an' she air payin' you ter keep yo' mouf 
 shet wif ol' 'Ria Johnson's money. This here 
 air business fur Mr. Peter. I reckon my baby '11 
 hab ter f ol' up her own putties this mornin' 'cause 
 her Mammy air got business wif Jedge Roche." 
 
 Peter Roche was a very busy lawyer, but he 
 let it be understood that nobody must disturb 
 him while he and Mammy had their long con 
 fidential talk. 
 
 " Wallace is a fool, Mammy, a fool! He was 
 drinking too much champagne last night, too. 
 That woman saw to it that his glass was kept 
 filled. She is after him tooth and nail, but thank 
 God, this disreputable husband of hers is back 
 at last! I intend to tell Wallace this very day 
 all about her. I have got her past all ticketed. 
 The report has just been handed in this very 
 morning." He reached for a packet of papers 
 in a pigeon-hole marked " R." " She is a sly 
 one," he continued, " but detectives are still more 
 so. She is not fit to be in the house with Esther." 
 
 " But, Mr. Peter, that there Stanley was there 
 the night my baby lamb was lef on our do' step. 
 S'posin', only s'posin', he up an' tells Mrs. Rich 
 ards about it! She is jes' low-lifed enough ter 
 go tell Esther. Oh, my baby, my baby! " 
 
 " You had better go quickly and stay with
 
 Esther Learns the Truth 313 
 
 Esther all you can. Make some excuse to be 
 with her eveiy minute until this woman is out of 
 the way. Poor little thing! There is no use in 
 her ever knowing the truth." 
 
 A taxi was called and Mammy sent to Dr. 
 Wallace's post-haste. 
 
 " Humph ! Stylish this mornin' ! " was the 
 housemaid's saucy greeting as Mammy alighted. 
 The girl was sweeping off the sidewalk. 
 
 ' You air moughty late a-sweepin' off the 
 front," the old woman remarked, as she pushed 
 past the broom which the girl held in the path. 
 
 " Mrs. Richards tol' me to say to you that Dr. 
 Wallace ain't see fit to give you yo' pension to 
 day. You'll have to come to-morrow." 
 
 " All right," was the ominously meek accep 
 tance of this. " I'll jes' go on up an' see Miss 
 Esther." 
 
 " She done gone." 
 
 " Gone whar? " 
 
 ' Th'aint no tellin'. I seed her draggin' a ol' 
 suitcase out to the garage, an' she hopped in the 
 big car an' the shover took her oft 3 . He done 
 come back without her an' he ain't a-sayin' whar 
 he done took her." 
 
 "Air Doc Andy in?" 
 
 "No! He air spected in at leven." 
 
 " An' Mr. Mike whar he? "
 
 314 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " He done gone ter shove the doctor aroun'." 
 
 " Air Dr. Dudley been here this mornin' ? " 
 
 " He done corned an' gone. He asked fur 
 Miss Esther. Mrs. Richards seed him an' I don't 
 know what she done tol' him, but he went off 
 lookin' kinder puzzled lak an' pale 'roun' the 
 gills. He flung hisse'f in his car and buzzed 
 off." 
 
 Without a word Mammy turned on her heel 
 and walked off. 
 
 ' That chil' air gone ter me. I's as sho of it 
 as I's bawn. Ain't I her fairy godmother? " 
 
 She found Esther seated on her doorstep, her 
 shabby valise at her feet. Without a word the 
 old woman opened the door and ushered her 
 into her clean front room. She took the valise 
 from her unresisting hands and drew off the old 
 serge jacket. Tenderly she lifted the battered 
 hat from the curly head; then she seated herself 
 in a low chair and drew the girl down into her 
 lap. There were no tears left to shed, but Esther 
 put her face against the old woman's faithful 
 bosom and wished with all her heart that she 
 was dead. 
 
 " Mammy knows all about it, honey ; she 
 knows. She knows that that wicked woman done 
 tol' her baby something to make her miserable, 
 an' her baby up an' packed her bag an' corned
 
 Esther Learns the Truth 315 
 
 straight ter her Mammy. Ain't it the truf ? " 
 
 Esther nodded her head. She could not trust 
 herself to speak. 
 
 " Cyarn't you tell yo' Mammy all 'bout it? " 
 
 It all came out, finally, in faint jerky whis 
 pers. Mammy listened intently, her face set 
 like a piece of bronze. When she heard that 
 Mrs. Richards had announced her intention of 
 marrying Dr. Wallace, she snorted disdainfully. 
 
 " What time wa' it whin she made sich a 
 'nouncement ? " 
 
 " Nine o'clock exactly! I remember my little 
 traveling clock chimed while she was in my room. 
 To think, Mammy, it was only two hours ago! 
 It seems like a whole life-time to me." 
 
 " Nine o'clock! Well, if that don't beat Bob's 
 tail!" the old woman laughed. "Ain't she one 
 she debble?" 
 
 " But, Mammy, I can't see anything to laugh 
 about." 
 
 " No more would I if'n I hadn't a happened 
 ter see Mrs. Richards' own wedded husban' 
 a-coming up the street at nine o'clock percisely. 
 She ain't let no grass grow under her feet. That 
 there man what is her husban' (an' his name is 
 Stanley an' not Richards) is the only pusson 
 what knowed about the time you corned ter us as 
 a lil' baby chiF. We done hoped he wa' dead
 
 316 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 an' gone, but he done tu'ned up, an' sho as shoot- 
 in', he air tol' his wife about it an' she done made 
 out the doctor tol' her the hellcat what she 
 air! Doc Andy don't know nothin' 'tall 'bout 
 her being Mrs. Stanley, an' he ain't no mo' tol' 
 her 'bout you not bein' his own flesh an' blood 
 than he air asked her ter marry him. Doc Andy 
 done drunk too much las' night an' he wa'n't 
 'sponsible. I done tol' that proudified butler 
 time an' agin not ter be so spry a-filling his 
 glass. Now, baby, I knows well 'nough you is 
 a-blamin' me an' a-blamin' po' Doc Andy fer 
 a-lyin' ter you all these years, an' maybe we is 
 ter blame an' maybe we is done right. Right or 
 wrong, I ain't sorry I done what I done." 
 She held Esther close in her arms as she spoke. 
 ' Th'ain't nobody ter blame but me. Doc 
 Andy ain't never lied outright. You 'member 
 how he jes' kep' his mouf shet when the subjec' 
 of his wife corned up. I done all the lyin', an' 
 I done it the bes' I could. Whin I started out 
 in the fust beginning I didn't lie no mo'n jes' 
 enough ter make it soun' lak the truf , but arfter 
 I got a-goin', I mus' say I took a kind er pleas 
 ure in stancifyin' my tale. It wa' my notion in 
 the fust beginning ter make up a dead wife fer 
 the doctor, an' I tol' him then I'd do all the dirty 
 wuck an' I done it. I wa'n't a-goin' ter hav
 
 Esther Learns the Truth 317 
 
 you a-growin' up 'thout no name nor nothin'. 
 Do you 'member one time you corned from school 
 a-tellin' a tale 'bout a liT gal named 'Melia what 
 wa' 'dopted out of a home fer foumlin's? " 
 
 " Yes, Mammy, I remember. She stole things 
 and all the girls said it was because she had inher 
 ited bad ways from her mother." 
 
 "Zactly! Now I wa'n't goin' ter hab folks 
 a-lookin' out fei tricks ter crop out in you an* 
 hab you a-hangin' yo' haid. I knowed that when 
 you got growed up an tu'ned out ter be the angel 
 you wa' gonter be, no matter what corned up, I 
 knowed you'd be you an' you air as good as 
 you air booful, an' th'aint nobody what kin take 
 it away from you. You knows right from wrong, 
 an' you ain't 'sponsible ter nobody but yo' own 
 se'f fer yo' havior. As fer me, I been a-lyin* 
 systemastic fer twenty year, but 'fo' Gawd, this 
 lyin' what I been a-doin' wa' mos' lak prayin'. 
 I won't say I didn't kinder enjy it. I got so's 
 yo' lil mother wa' as real ter me as she wa' ter 
 you. Sometimes I used ter kinder think she wa' 
 whisperin' in my ear what ter say ter you. Her 
 sperit is a-watchin' over you, my lamb, an' she 
 ain't a-blamin' yo' ol' black Mammy fer what she 
 done. I knows you is feelin' wuss about yo' 
 mother than anything else, 'cause you been a-set- 
 tin' sech sto' on what you been a-dreamin' 'bout
 
 318 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 her, but, honey baby, you ain't got no cause ter 
 feel bad about her. Who's ter say we ain't a-been 
 dreamin' true dreams 'bout her? She wa' putty, 
 'cause how come you so if she wa'ii't? An' she 
 wa' good, too I am sho she wa' good. What 
 do we know to the comtrary? You is good an* 
 you is jes' as apt ter 'herit goodness as putti- 
 ness. You wa' allus jes' nachelly good an* you 
 wa' allus jes' nachelly healthy. We don't know 
 nothin' 'bout what made her feel lak leavin' you 
 whar she lef you, but we mus' keep on a-lovin* 
 her an' thinkin' the bes' 'bout her, an' whin we 
 pass beyon' the pearly gates, we will meet her 
 an* she kin tell us all we ought ter know. Now, 
 my baby lamb, I don't want you ter blame yo' 
 paw fer nothin'. You kin blame me all you want 
 ter you kin blame me an' call me a ol' black 
 liar you kin leave me an' nebber speak ter 
 me agin fer deceibin' you all these years. No 
 matter what you do or think, I ain't a-regrettin' 
 what I done. I fixed it so you'd have a happy 
 time whilst you wa' a chil', an' I took my chanct 
 on yo' nebber knowing the truf. But now that 
 you knows it, I feels lak you is got stren'th ter 
 bear it. As fer Dr. Jim, why chil', don't you 
 know that ol' hellyon air arfter him fer her own 
 gal? She done foun' out he air got prop'ty out 
 in Kaintuck an' she 'low she better keep him
 
 Esther Learns the Truth 319 
 
 in de fambly. He air been politeful ter the gal 
 an' got her a-thinkin' 'bout him. Dr. Jim ain't 
 studyin' 'bout nobody but- my baby lamb. He 
 ain't a-carin' how you got inter this here worl'. 
 He's so glad you air here an* air what you air 
 that he ain't a-worryin' his haid 'bout no do'steps 
 nor nothin'. I ain't a-sayin' you ought'n ter 
 tell him about it an' let him do his own answerin', 
 but I'm a-knowin what he'll say." 
 
 " Oh, Mammy, you are such a wonderful 
 fairy godmother! Already I feel better about 
 everything. I don't believe Daddy did tell her 
 about me. That hurt me as much as anything. 
 But, Mammy, I am going to stay with you for 
 a while. I can't go back home while Mrs. Rich 
 ards is there. Maybe she will go on staying." 
 
 " No, she won't, honey ; that I knows. You 
 cyarn't stay wif me 'cause white folks ain't 'lowed 
 ter come stop whar niggers lib. This hyar seg- 
 remgation 'rangement done made it wrong fer 
 white folks ter move in wha mos'ly black folks 
 is habitatin'. Co'se, all my neighbors over hyar 
 in the ward is black, an' so you won't be 'lowed 
 ter stop wif yo' Mammy. You kin spen' the day 
 an' res' yo'se'f, but if you don't go home, we'll 
 hab ter fin' a bo'din' house fer you. But now 
 I's got a lil shoppin' ter do, an' I's gonter leab 
 you ter yo'se'f a bit."
 
 320 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Oh, Mammy, let me go with you ! You and 
 I haven't shopped together for so long." 
 
 " Now, baby, you jes' stay on here an' res' 
 yo'se'f. I'll be back fo' ve'y long. Don't let no 
 wolf come git you while I'm gone lak they 
 done in the story when the ol' nanny-goat wint 
 ter the sto'. You stay an' keep house fer Mammy. 
 You kin make a lil pull candy if you's a min'." 
 
 Esther smiled. Would Mammy ever get over 
 treating her like a little child, she wondered? 
 
 " I believe I'll lie down on your sofa and take 
 a nap right here by the window. I don't know 
 what makes me so tired." 
 
 Mammy covered her up with her best quilt, 
 the self-same one she had used on the baby 
 Esther, and crept softly from the room.
 
 Chapter 32 
 CLEARING THE ATMOSPHERE 
 
 For the second time that morning, Mammy 
 boarded the trolley. 
 
 " All this hyar jumpin' roun' is a limberin' 
 my jints. I reckon I'll pay fer it come night 
 fall, but I got some wuck ter do fer my white 
 folks an' I got ter keep a-goin fer a spell." 
 
 Peter Roche had been trying his hardest to 
 get into communication with Dr. Wallace during 
 the morning, but he missed him at every turn. 
 He had hoped to reach his old friend and divulge 
 what he had learned about his office attendant 
 before the doctor should get back to his home 
 to keep the eleven-to-twelve office hour, but in 
 this he was unsuccessful. Peter decided he would 
 have to go to the Grant house and take his 
 chances on seeing the doctor alone in his office 
 after the hour. 
 
 Twelve o'clock struck. The last patient had 
 gone, and Dr. Wallace sank back in his chair 
 exhausted. He wished Mrs. Richards would go 
 on about her business and not hover around him 
 so. What was the woman after? She seemed 
 
 321
 
 322 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 to be entirely different from the person who had 
 been such a help to him. 
 
 "Where is Esther?" he asked. 
 
 " She left the house early this morning and has 
 not returned." 
 
 "Where did she go?" 
 
 , " I do not know. The chauffeur perhaps can 
 tell you." 
 
 He rang the bell for Mike, who came quickly. 
 
 " Mike, where did you take Miss Esther? " 
 
 " She asked me not to be tellin' anywan." 
 
 " Absurd! Where did you take her? " 
 
 Mike said nothing, but his face grew crimson 
 and he stood twirling his cap. The doctor looked 
 at him as sternly as he knew how to look, but 
 Dr. Wallace did not excell in looking stern. 
 
 'Why did she go anywhere? When will she 
 come back? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir." 
 
 " Don't know! What did she say? " 
 
 "Nawthin', sir!" 
 
 " Mike, I must know where my daughter is." 
 
 "Yes, sir!" 
 ' Why don't you tell me where you took her? " 
 
 " I have told you, sir, that I promised her not 
 to tell." 
 
 ' Then you may go ! " stormed his master. 
 Mike turned on his heel and left the room.
 
 Clearing the Atmosphere 323 
 
 " What can be the matter with Esther? " he 
 said, turning helplessly to Mrs. Richards. 
 
 " She had a suitcase with her, but your daugh 
 ter has never treated me with any respect or con 
 fidence, so I could not ask her where she was 
 going. I felt that it was not yet any of my 
 business." She put a slight accent on the " yet." 
 The doctor looked at her in a dazed way. 
 
 " The truth of the matter is that Esther is 
 jealous of me and of Lucile." 
 
 "Jealous! Why?" 
 
 " I felt that it was only right to tell her of 
 what occurred last night, and she was very 
 angry." 
 
 "What occurred?" 
 
 " And have you so soon forgotten? " 
 
 " Forgotten what? What did occur? " 
 
 ' Why, my dear Dr. Wallace, right in the 
 parlor you asked me to be your wife and I 
 accepted." Her manner was coy, but the 
 ominous white dents were visible around her 
 nose. 
 
 " My dear madam " Dr. Wallace could 
 only gasp. 
 
 " My daughter came in and found you with 
 your arms around me. Surely, you cannot say 
 that you do not remember. It has meant so 
 much to me to know that all of my loneliness
 
 324 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 is at an end. " Here she began to whimper, 
 holding her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 " My God ! " was all Dr. Wallace could say. 
 Had he really been so foolish as to do this terrible 
 this, he asked himself. He could remember hav 
 ing his arms around her, but how they got there 
 he did not know. It was all because of that cham 
 pagne. He couldn't remember saying a word 
 about love or marriage. And this woman had 
 gone and told Esther, and she had gone off some 
 where I Maybe Mammy would know where. He 
 must send for Mammy. In the meantime, he felt 
 that he hated his office assistant. Marry her! 
 He'd rather die. Why, she wasn't even a real 
 lady. He realized it now for the first time. 
 Would a real lady have taken advantage of a 
 drunken man ? He was drunk ; he must have been. 
 
 He sat and looked at her helplessly while she 
 sniffed in her handkerchief. Then he began to 
 wonder if she would not take a sum of money 
 and call it off. She couldn't have any real feel 
 ing for him. It wasn't possible. He would see 
 Peter and get him to take the matter up. But 
 what a humiliation it would be to confess to his 
 old friend ! And Esther ! What would his little 
 girl think of him? A breach of promise case was 
 an awful disgrace, but it couldn't be so bad as 
 marrying.
 
 Clearing the Atmosphere 325 
 
 " What did you tell Esther? " he asked in a 
 meek voice. 
 
 " I told her what you told me to tell her. You 
 told me to let her know about her being a found 
 ling, and how she was put on your doorstep 
 wrapped in an old serge jacket with no mark of 
 identification nothing but a package of paper 
 patterns and some bits of cotton cloth. Of course, 
 I did not relish breaking the news to her, but you 
 had asked me to do it. She was furious about 
 the whole thing and would not speak to me." 
 
 Andrew Wallace sank down in his chair and 
 closed his eyes. It had come at last! His child 
 knew all the miserable, sordid truth, and it had 
 been his fault. His little mascot! What must 
 she think of him? How hurt she must have 
 been to learn this terrible thing from a per 
 son she had never liked a stranger, indeed! 
 Maybe, even now, she had gone off and jumped 
 in the river! Blood will tell. Her mother before 
 her had done it w T hy not Esther? Mrs. Rich 
 ards must be telling the truth. He must have 
 told her all about Esther. How else could she 
 have had it so straight serge jacket, paper 
 patterns and all. 
 
 He covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, don't take it so hard," and now 
 Mrs. Richards was the comforter. She put her
 
 326 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 arm around him and drew his head down on her 
 bosom. With a sharp effort he threw her off, 
 and just then Mammy came hobbling into the 
 room. 
 
 " Doc Andy, I's got a word ter say ter you." 
 . " Your master is otherwise engaged," said 
 Mrs. Richards, her face flaming with anger and 
 the white dents showing very plainly. 
 
 " Mammy, Mammy, where is Esther? Is she 
 safe? " 
 
 " Yes, Doc Andy, she air safe, but it ain't 
 thanks ter you nor yo' household. Ain't I raised 
 you, Doc Andy? Ain't I raised yo' lil gal, an* 
 done it the bes' I kin? " 
 
 "Yes, Mammy!" 
 
 :< Well, then, I air gonter deman' that you 
 listen ter me an' you make yo' housekeeper 
 listen ter me. I ain't got nothin' in life but 
 knowin' my white folks is happy an' I see mis'ry 
 ahead fer them if I can't speak out. You make 
 Mrs. Richards stay, too, Doc Andy." 
 
 Mrs. Richards w r as preparing to leave. She 
 started towards the door, but Dr. Wallace 
 caught her firmly by the arm, and she was com 
 pelled to stop and listen to what Mammy had 
 to say. 
 
 The old woman had straightened up, and her 
 eyes were flashing as she told all she knew about
 
 Clearing the Atmosphere 327 
 
 Mrs. Stanley, alias Mrs. Richards. She spoke 
 of the similarity in voice, mentioned her doubts 
 about her identity, and then told how certainty 
 had come to her when she was lying on the floor 
 after her accident. 
 
 " Now, is you or ain't you Mrs. Stanley? " 
 Mammy asked, pointing a finger of accusation 
 at the infuriated woman. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Stanley, Dr. Wallace," she said 
 ignoring Mammy. "But I cannot see that I 
 have committed any crime in concealing my 
 name, since Stanley certanly had done nothing 
 to make that name honorable. As a widow, I 
 determined to let the past vanish, and so I took 
 my maiden name of Richards. I will go, now," 
 she remarked with dignity. " I do not intend 
 to stand here and have this vile negress insult 
 me further.'* 
 
 "No, you won't go! Hoi' on ter her, Doc 
 Andy. I air jes' coming to the meat in the 
 nut. You ain't no widow woman any mo' than 
 Doc Andy is a widow man. He ain't neber been 
 married, an' Mr. Stanley ain't any deader than I 
 is, an' Gawd be praised, they is enough life lef 
 in me ter see my white folks through." 
 
 "Stanley not dead! You are mad!" cried 
 Mrs. Richards. 
 
 ' Yes, I am mad, mad as a wet bin, an' what's
 
 328 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 mo', my bite air gonter do some damage bef o' I 
 gits thu. Whar wa' you at a leetle befo' nine 
 th ; s mawnin'? Answer me that. Well, you 
 needn't answer if you thinks a nigger ain't wuth 
 answerin'. I knows ! You wa' in this hyar very 
 room a-talkin ter Mr. Stanley, an* he tol' you 
 all about my baby chil', an' how she wa' lef on 
 the do'step, an' the patterns an' all, an' you tol' 
 him that you an' Doc Andy wa' done goin' to - 
 be married an' that he would hab a sof berth 
 
 V, 
 
 if he'd jes' keep hisse'f dark. An' he up'n said 
 he wa' broke, an' you jes' ban' him over ol* 'Ilia 
 Johnson's penshum. Now, ain't I a-tellin' the 
 truf ? " 
 
 " Let me go! How can you stand here and 
 let me be so insulted?" Mrs. Richards tried to 
 get away, but the doctor held her firmly. 
 
 " Go on, Mammy!" 
 
 " Then you goes up into Esther's room an' 
 you tells her that her paw is gonter marry you 
 and that he done sint you up ter tell her all about 
 it, an' then you tells her about how she corned 
 here an' then whin you felt maybe the po' 
 lamb still had a lil piece er heart lef that wa'n't 
 all broke inter bits, you tells her that she will 
 do wrong ter marry Dr. Jim cause of her being 
 onlegitermat an' then you lef her. Now, ain't 
 it the truf? "
 
 Clearing the Atmosphere 329 
 
 " Mammy, how do you know all this? " asked 
 the doctor, hoping she had some proof of it. He 
 could not know how Mammy could have amassed 
 such an amazing aggregation of facts. 
 
 " I seed Mr. Stanley wif my own eyes what 
 is good as new a-comin out er this very house 
 a-countin' a bunch er new bills, an' wif his usual 
 untidy ways he th'owed this very Velope on the 
 pavement." She produced the torn envelope 
 addressed in the doctor's handwriting. 
 
 " Now, if you don't believe me, you kin jes' 
 phome Mr. Peter. Me'n him is a been wuckin* 
 up this case tergether. What I don't know, he 
 knows but here he am ter speak fer hisse'f ." 
 
 In walked Peter. The situation was intelli 
 gible at a glance. 
 
 "Now, befo' I stops, I want ter say something 
 mo'. You done took my penshum an* you kin 
 keep it, but you is got ter state in the presence 
 er these hyar witnesses that you put the brandy 
 bottle on the sideboard yo'self that there time 
 I wint blin', an' you done it fer meanness an* 
 cause you were scairt I'd say you wa' Mrs. Stan 
 ley. Ain't that the truf ? You'd better answer 
 or I'll git the law on you 'bout my penshum." 
 
 Mrs. Richards bowed her head. The doctor 
 released her and she hurried from the room. 
 
 " Dear old Mammy! You raised a fool when
 
 330 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 you raised me. Peter, why don't you tell me 
 what an ass I am?" Dr. Wallace grasped his 
 friend by the hand. { 
 
 The door opened and Jim Dudley came hur 
 riedly in. 
 
 " Where is Esther ? I have tried to see her 
 and get her on the phone. What is the mys 
 tery? Mammy, you are the only sane person 
 I know. Tell me where Esther is!" 
 
 " She air at my cabin. I jes' stepped out a 
 minute ter buy some Visions fer her lunch." 
 
 'Well, come on! I'll take you in my car, 
 and please may I have some lunch, too? " 
 
 " Sho if you kin wait 'till I knock it up." 
 
 Together the young aristocrat and the old 
 colored mammy left the house. From an upstairs 
 window Mrs. Richards peeped out and saw 
 them. 
 
 " Lou Stanley, you are beaten and beaten 
 by a nigger at that," she said bitterly. Then she 
 dragged out her trunk from the closet and began 
 to pack it.
 
 With silent steps Mammy and Dr. Jim entered 
 the little white house where the sleeping girl 
 lay. All traces of weeping had departed from 
 her pretty face, leaving only faint violet circles 
 under the closed lashes. Jim felt like kneeling, 
 but it really seemed more sensible to sit, so he 
 drew up a chair where he could gaze upon the 
 girl, and there he patiently waited for her eyes 
 to open. 
 
 The closed eyes finally did open a moment and 
 gazed at the young man, but then they closed 
 again as though the girl could not make up her 
 mind to come back to reality. Reality meant 
 misery and sadness, but her dreams had been 
 sweet, and so she had determined to dream on. 
 On immaculate creases, Jim dropped down and 
 kissed her hand. 
 
 " Why Jim! Are you here? " 
 
 " Esther, you didn't give me my answer last 
 night. I have been hunting you all day. What 
 is it, sweet? " 
 
 " Oh Jim I have found out something 
 
 331
 
 332 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 that makes me know that we that I I don't 
 love you." 
 
 ' You don't love me ! Esther, dearest, please 
 tell me what is the matter. Didn't you love me 
 last night? I'd believe your eyes as soon as I 
 would your lips, and your eyes seemed to tell 
 me the truth last night. What has happened? " 
 
 " I'd rather you ask Mammy. She knows." 
 
 " I know she knows something, but she 
 wouldn't tell me a thing. I have tried to make 
 her talk, but she just shakes her head and says 
 nothing." 
 
 And so Esther told him the pitiful little 
 tale. She would not let him touch her while she 
 told it. "And so you see," she said in conclu 
 sion, " it will never do. You might ruin all your 
 prospects your whole life in marrying a girl 
 like me, with no name no more name than 
 Cora's little Esther." 
 
 " Well, of all the tommyrot ! No name ! Why, 
 your name is Esther Wallace now, and it is going 
 to be Esther Dudley as soon as we can manage 
 it ! What difference does it make to me how you 
 got here just so you are here? " 
 
 " That is what Mammy said." 
 
 "Dear old Mammy ! What a trump she is ! " 
 and again he clasped the willing hands of the 
 unresisting girl.
 
 Mammy's Justification 333 
 
 " But, Jim, if you had known this about me, 
 wouldn't you have been less inclined to give me 
 your your heart? " 
 
 u Why, honey, I have known it for years ! 
 Your father told me all about it before I sent 
 that letter to you the one I wrote the night 
 after you went off to boarding-school. . I reckon 
 you have forgotten all about that letter " 
 
 " No, I haven't. I have it yet." 
 
 " Ever since I wrote that letter I have con 
 sidered myself engaged, only the engagement 
 has been rather one-sided. Couldn't you make 
 it two-sided, now, sweetheart? " 
 
 Esther could and she would. All the pent-up 
 feelings of the girl gave way. She threw her 
 self on her lover's shoulder and sobbed. 
 
 While Esther was making it two-sided, 
 Mammy was waving her wand to some purpose 
 in her cheerful little kitchen. 
 
 '* When they's aigs in the house, an* bakin in 
 the house, an' meal in the bar'l, an' a drap er 
 milk fer mixin', comp'ny kin come all they's a 
 min* ter. OF 'Ria Johnson kin stir herse'f an' 
 knock up a snack quicker 'n a wink. I's seen 
 Dr. Jim eat fifteen corn-cakes at a sittin', an' 
 praise Gawd, they's still some 'lasses in the 
 pitcher nice black, nigger 'lasses wif some 
 tas* to it 'sides sweetness."
 
 334 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " You all time thinkin' 'bout victuals! " Here 
 Mammy's second voice took up the thread of 
 reflection. " Don't you reckon Dr. Jim an' 
 Miss Esther is got somethin' ter do 'sides eat 
 corn hatty cakes? 'Lasses ain't gonter be no 
 treat to they alls after all the sweet talk an 
 an maybe kisses." The old woman wiped her 
 eyes. 
 
 " You cyarn't pick no quar'l wif me, nigger! " 
 the original voice answered. " I's too happy fer 
 quar'lin'. Things is a tu'nin' out my way. I 
 knows I's black; I knows I ain't eddicated; I 
 knows I wa' bawn in slabery an* wa' a woman 
 growed befo' I got my freedom. I knows all 
 that. But I knows Idone tuck my white folks' 
 fairs in my ban's an' I done wuck 'em out ter do 
 my way. It wa' all fer my baby. I done lied 
 one big lie an' I stuck to it an' now, praise 
 Gawd, I won't hab ter lie no mo'." 
 
 " If'n you ain't too proudified ter eat in 
 the kitchen, yo' snack air ready," announced 
 Mammy, entering the front room. ' Well, 
 Gawd in Heaben, what kinder carryin's on is 
 this?" 
 
 " Look, Jim! " cried Esther, not a whit embar 
 rassed by Mammy. " Only look ! Mammy is a 
 fairy godmother. Can't you see her beautiful 
 face with a glow all around it, and her long,
 
 Mammy's Justification 335 
 
 pale-blue robes with stars and moons and suns 
 all over it? Those aren't apron strings in the 
 back. Those are beautiful wings." 
 
 "Mebbe so! Mebbe so!" laughed the old 
 woman, delightedly. " But now I'm a-tellin you 
 that yo' victuals air a-gittin chilled." 
 
 Hand in hand they went to the tiny kitchen. 
 
 While they ate, Mammy fried cakes and told 
 them of the happenings of the morning. Dr. 
 Dudley was astonished at the perfidy of the 
 woman whom he had liked and trusted. 
 
 " How could she have fooled me so? " 
 
 " Lawd love us, Dr. Jim, you ain't got no since 
 'bout females. You think they is all lubly ladies. 
 So they is all lubly ter you. Me'n Miss Esther, 
 we knowed from the fust beginning jes' what 
 kind er she-debble she wa*. but we bided our 
 time, we bided our time." 
 
 " Now, I don't want ter hurry you, honey 
 baby, but yo' paw air pow'ful unhappy 'bout 
 you an' I reckon he am neglectin* the sick an' 
 sufFerin' while he grunts an' groans. An' I 
 cyarn't see that Dr, Dudley air ministered none 
 ter the ailin' this day. 'Cose, gittin* engaged 
 air kinder upsettin', but it's time ter be a-movin 
 'long." 
 
 "But, Mammy, I can't go home until Mrs. 
 Richards is out of the way. I simply can't."
 
 336 Mammy's White Folks 
 
 " Why, honey baby, that there woman air took 
 herse'f off Ion' 'fo this. She knowed she wa' 
 whoopt, an' she wa'n't gonter stay an* git nothin 
 mo'. I reckon she done jined that there Stanley 
 an' they is already a-puttin they evil haids ter- 
 gether ter think up mo' ways ter do folks." 
 
 "And Lucile? Poor Lucile! What will 
 become of her? " 
 
 ' Yo* paw will see to it that she don't suffer 
 none. You might go name it to him." 
 
 ;< I won't go until you promise me one thing, 
 Mammy," said the young man as he shook her 
 gnarled old hand. ' When Esther and I are 
 married, you will have to come and live with us 
 and keep house for us." 
 
 "We'll see! We'll see!" said the delighted 
 old woman. " Anyway, I won't be fer from my 
 white folks wharever I is." 
 
 THE END
 
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