"I'll give it to him right away, quick," she cried delightedly as she ran from the room.

"Good!" Then rising he extended his hand, saying, as he clasped Mrs.

Carruth's:

"She is a little trump, Mrs. Carruth. Jove! if you could have been there and seen her championship of that old horse, and her dauntless courage when that old rascal, Jabe, bore down upon her, you would be so set up that this house would have to expand to hold you. Please don't reprove her. I ask it as favor, although I have no right to do so. She has a fine spirit and a finer sense of duty, Mrs. Carruth, for she gave me a rare call-down when I tested it by hinting that she'd best keep mum on the subject if she was likely to come in for a wigging. She is a great little la.s.sie and I am going to ask you to let me know her better."

"Jean is about right, _I_ think, Mr. Stuyvesant," said Constance, as she shook hands good-bye. "She is peppery and impulsive, I know, but it would be a hard matter to make her tell an untruth, or go against what she considered her duty."

"I'm _sure_ of it, Miss Constance," was the hearty answer. "And now good-bye. You will let me come again, Mrs. Carruth?"

"We will be very pleased to welcome you," was the cordial reply.

"Good! I'll come."

CHAPTER V

A New Member of the Family

"Has you-all done 'cided to do wid out yo' suppers dis yer night?

'Cause if you _is_ I 'spec's I kin clar away," was the autocratic inquiry of Mammy Melviny as she stood in the doorway of the living-room, her ample proportions very nearly filling it.

Hadyn Stuyvesant's call had been of longer duration than Mammy approved, for her hot corn cakes were being rapidly ruined by the delayed meal, and this was an outrage upon her skill in cooking. Mammy had been Mrs. Carruth's nurse "down souf" and still regarded that dignified lady as her "chile," and subject to her dictation. She was the only servant which Mrs. Carruth now kept, the others having been what Mammy stigmatized as "po' northern no 'count n.i.g.g.e.rs" who gave the minimum of work for the maximum of pay, and were prompt to take their departure when adversity overtook their employer.

Not so Mammy. When the crisis came Mrs. Carruth stated the case to her and advised her to seek another situation where she would receive the wages her ability commanded, and which Mrs. Carruth, in her reduced circ.u.mstances, could no longer afford to pay her. The storm which the suggestion produced was both alarming and amusing. Placing her arms upon her hips, and raising her head like a war-horse scenting battle, Mammy stamped her foot and cried:

"Step down an' out? Get out 'en de fambly? Go wo'k fer some o' dese hyer strange folks what aint keer a cent fo' me, an' aint know who I _is_? _Me?_ a Blairsdale! Huh! What sort o' fool talk is _dat_, Baby?

Yo' cyant _git_ me out. Yo' need 'n ter try, kase 'taint gwine be no good ter. I's hyer and hyer I's gwine _stay_, no matter _what_ come.

'Taint no use fer ter talk ter _me_ 'bout money and wages an' sich truck. What I kerrin' fer dem? I'se got 'nough, an' ter spare. What yo' t'ink I'se been doin' all dese years o' freedom? Flingin' my earnin's 'way? Huh! You _know_ I aint done no sich foolishness. I'se got a pile--yis, an' a _good_ pile too,--put 'way. I need n't ter ever do a stroke mo' work long 's I live if I don't wantter. I'se _rich_, I is. But I _gwine_ ter work jist 's long's I'se mind ter. Ain't I free?

Who gwine ter say I cyant wo'k? Now go long an' tend ter yo' business and lemme lone ter tend ter mine, and dat's right down wid de pots and de kettles, and de stew pans, an' de wash biler and de wash tubs, an'

I reckon I kin do more 'n six o' dese yer Norf n.i.g.g.e.rs put togedder when I set out ter good an' hard if I _is_ most sixty years old. Hush yo' talk chile, an' don't let me ketch you a interferin' wid _my_ doin's agin. You heah _me_?" And at the end of this tirade, Mammy turned sharply about and marched off like a grenadier. Mrs. Carruth was deeply touched by the old woman's loyalty, but knowing the antebellum negro as she did, she realized how wounded Mammy had been by the suggestion that she seek a more lucrative situation among strangers. Mammy had been born and raised a slave on Mrs. Carruth's father's plantation in North Carolina, and would always consider herself a member of Mrs. Carruth's family. Alas for the days of such ties and such devotion!

So Mammy was now the autocrat of the household and ruled with an iron hand, although woe to anyone who dared to overstep the bounds _she_ had established as her "Miss Jinny's" rights, or the "chillen's"

privileges as "old marster's gran'-chillern." "Old Marster" was Mammy's ideal of what a gentleman should be, and "de days befo' de gre't turmoil" were the only days "fitten for _folks_ (always to be written in italics) to live in."

She was an interesting figure as she stood in the doorway, and snapped out her question, although her old face, surmounted by its gay bandanna turban was the personification of kindliness, and her keen eyes held only love for her "white folks."

She was decidedly corpulent and her light print gown and beautifully ironed white ap.r.o.n stood out from her figure until they completely filled the doorway.

Mrs. Carruth turned toward her and asked with a quizzical smile;

"What is spoiling, Mammy?"

"Huh! Ain't nuffin spilin's I knows on, but dat Miss Nornie done say she ain't had no co'n cakes 'n 'bout 'n age an' if she _want_ 'em so turrible she'd better come and _eat_ 'em,"--and with a decisive nod Mammy stalked off toward the dining-room.

"Come, girls, unless you want to evoke the displeasure of the presiding genius of the household," said Mrs. Carruth smiling, as she led the way in Mammy's wake.

It was a pleasant meal, for Mammy would not countenance the least lapse from the customs of earlier days, and the same pains were taken for the simple meals now served as had been taken with the more elaborate ones during Mr. Carruth's lifetime. The linen must be ironed with the same care; the silver must shine as brightly, and the gla.s.s sparkle as it had always done. Miss Jinny must not miss any of the luxuries to which she had been born if Mammy could help it.

"Isn't he splendid, mother?" asked Jean, as she b.u.t.tered her third corn cake. "He was _so_ good to Baltie and to me."

"I am very glad to know him, dear, for Lyman was much attached to him."

"Where has he been all these years, mother, that we have never met him in Riveredge?" asked Eleanor.

"He has lived abroad when not at college. He took his degree last spring. His mother died there a little more than a year ago, I understand. She never recovered from the blow of his father's death when Hadyn was about fifteen years of age. She went abroad soon after for her health and never came back. He came over for his college course at Princeton, but always rejoined her during his holidays."

"How old a man is he, mother? He seems both young and old," said Constance.

"I am not sure, but think he must be about Lyman's age--nearly twenty-four. But the Society seems to have made a wise choice in electing him its president; he has certainly taken energetic measures in this case and I am glad that he has, for it is disgraceful to have such a thing occur in Riveredge. Poor old horse! It would have been more merciful to shoot him. How could Jabe Raulsbury have been so utterly heartless?"

"But, mother, suppose no one will take old Baltie and give him a home?" persisted Jean, "will he _have_ to be shot then?"

"Would it not be kinder to end such a hapless existence than to leave it to an uncertain fate, dear?" asked Mrs. Carruth gently.

"Well, maybe, but _I_ don't want him killed. He _loves_ me," was Jean's answer and the little upraising of the head at the conclusion of the remark conveyed more to Constance than to the others. Constance understood Jean better than any other member of the family, and during the summer just pa.s.sed Jean had many times gone to the field in which Baltie was pastured to carry some dainty to the poor old horse and her love for him and compa.s.sion for his wretchedness were deep.

No more was said just then, but Constance knew that the subject had not pa.s.sed from Jean's thoughts and one afternoon, exactly two weeks from that evening, this was verified.

Mrs. Carruth had gone to sit with a sick friend. Eleanor was in her room lost to everything but a knotty problem for Monday's recitation, and Mammy was busily occupied with some dainty dish against her Miss Jinny's home-coming. Constance was laying the tea-table when the crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch, upon the gravel of the driveway caused her to look up, there to behold Jean with old Baltie in tow.

"Merciful powers, what _has_ the child done now?" she exclaimed as she let fall with a clatter the knife and fork she was about to place upon the table and flew to the front door, crying as she hastily opened it: "Jean Carruth what in this world _have_ you been doing?"

"I've brought him home. I _had_ to. I went down to ask Mr. Pringle if anybody had come to take him, but he wasn't there. There wasn't _any_body there but old deaf Mike who cleans the stable and I couldn't make _him_ understand a single thing I said. He just mumbled and wagged his head for all the world like that China mandarin in the library, and didn't do a thing though I yelled at him as hard as I could."

"But _how_ did you get Baltie and, greater marvel, _how_ did you bring him all this way home?" persisted Constance, bound to get to the bottom of facts.

"I went into the box-stall--it's close to the door you know--and got him and led him here."

"But where was Mike, and what was he doing all that time to _let_ you do such a thing?"

"O, he went poking off down the stable and didn't pay any attention to me. It wouldn't have made any difference if he _had_; I had gone there to rescue Baltie and save him from being shot, and I didn't mean to come away without doing it. The two weeks were up to-day and he was _there_. If any one had been found to take him he _wouldn't_ have been there yet, would he? So _that_ settled it, and I wasn't going to take any chances. If I'd let him stay one day longer they might have shot him. If I could have found Mr. Pringle I'd have told him, but I couldn't, and I didn't dare to wait. I left my bank money, almost five dollars, to pay for this week's board--Mr. Stuyvesant said it would be enough--and a little note to tell him it was for Baltie; I wrote it on a piece of paper in his office, and then I came home as fast as Baltie could walk, and here we are."

Jean had talked very rapidly and Constance was too dumfounded for the time being, to interrupt the flow of words. Presently however, she recovered her speech and, resting one hand on Baltie's withers and the other on Jean's shoulder, asked resignedly:

"And now that you've got him, may I ask what in this world you propose to _do_ with him?"

"Take him out to the stable of course and take care of him as long as he lives," was the uncontrovertible reply.

"Mother will _never_ let you do such a thing, Jean, and he must be taken back to Pringle's at once," said Constance, with more emphasis than usually entered her speech toward this mad-cap little sister.

"I won't! I won't! I _won't_ let him go back!" broke out Jean, a storm of sobs ending the protest and bringing Mammy upon the scene hot-foot, for Mammy's ears were keen for notes of woe from her baby.

"What's de matter, honey? What done happen ter yo'?" she cried as she came hurrying across the little porch upon which the dining-room opened. "Bress Gawd what yo' got dere, chile? Hucc.u.m dat old horse here?"