j ,-. W- 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