Part 5 (2/2)
”Mammy, your baby is very weary, and sorely disheartened this morning, and very, very lonely.”
The words ended in a sob.
Instantly all Mammy's sympathies were aroused. Gathering the weary head in her arms she stroked back the hair with her work-hardened hand, as she said in the same tender tones she had used to soothe her baby more than forty years ago:
”Dere, dere, honey, don' yo' fret; don' yo' fret. Tell Mammy jist what's pesterin' yo' an' she'll mak' it all right fer her baby. Hus.h.!.+
Hush. Mammy can tek keer of anythin'.”
”Oh, Mammy dear, dear old Mammy, you take care of so much as it is.
What _would_ we do without you?”
”Hush yo' talk chile! What I gwine do widout yo' all? Dat talk all foolishness. Don't I b'long ter de fambly? Now yo' mind yo' Mammy an'
tell her right off what's a frettin' yo' dis day. Yo' heah _me_?”
Mammy's voice was full of forty-five years of authority, but her eyes were full of sympathetic tears, for her love for her ”Miss Jinny” was beyond the expression of words.
”O Mammy, I am so foolish, and I fear so pitifully weak when it comes to conducting my business affairs wisely. You can't understand these vexatious business matters which I must attend to, but I sorely miss Mr. Carruth when they arise and _must_ be met.”
”Hucc.u.m I cyan't understand 'em? What Ma.s.sa Bernard done tackle in his business dat I cyan't ef _yo'_ kin? Tell me dis minute just what you'
gotter do, an' I bate yo' ten dollars I c'n _do_ it.”
”I know there isn't anything you would not try to do, Mammy, from taking care of an old horse, to moving the contents of the entire house if it became necessary,” replied Mrs. Carruth, smiling in spite of herself, as she wiped her eyes, little realizing how near the truth was her concluding remark regarding Mammy's prowess.
”I reckon I c'd move de hull house if I had _time_ enough, an' as fer de horse--huh! ain't he stanin' dere a livin' tes'imony of what a bran-smash an' elbow-grease kin do? 'Pears lak his hairs rise right up an' call me bres-sed, dey's tekin' ter s.h.i.+nin' so sense I done rub my hans ober 'em,” and Mammy, true to her racial characteristics, broke into a hearty laugh; so close together lies the capacity for joy or sorrow in this child race. The next instant, however, Mammy was all seriousness as she demanded:
”Now I want yo' ter tell me all 'bout dis bisness flummy-diddle what's frettin' yo'. Come now; out wid it, quick.”
Was it the old habit of obedience to Mammy's dictates, or the woman's longing for someone to confide in during these trying days of loneliness, that impelled Mrs. Carruth to explain in as simple language as possible the difficulties encompa.s.sing her?
The burden of meeting even the ordinary every-day expenses upon the very limited income derived from Mr. Carruth's life insurance, which left no margin whatsoever for emergencies. Of the imperative necessity of continuing the fire insurance he had always carried upon the home and its contents, lest a few hours wipe out what it had required years to gather together, and his wife and children be left homeless. How, under their altered circ.u.mstances this seemed more than ever imperative, since in the event of losing the house and its contents there would be no possible way of replacing either unless they kept the insurance upon them paid up.
Mammy listened intently, now and again nodding her old head and uttering a Um-uh! Um-uh! of comprehension.
When Mrs. Carruth ceased speaking she asked:
”An' how much has yo' gotter plank right out dis minit fer ter keep dis hyer as'sur'nce f'om collaps'in', honey?”
”Nearly thirty dollars, Mammy, and that seems a very large sum to me now-a-days.”
”Hum-uh! Yas'm. So it do. Um. An' yo' aint got it?”
”I have not got it to-day, Mammy. I shall have it next week, but the time expires day after to-morrow and I do not know whether the company will be willing to wait, or whether I should forfeit my claim by the delay. I have written to ask.”
”Huh! Wha' sort o' compiny is it dat wouldn't trus' a _Blairsdale_, I like ter know?” demanded Mammy indignantly.
Mrs. Carruth smiled sadly as she answered:
”These are not the old days, Mammy, and you know 'corporations have no souls.'”
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