Part 8 (1/2)
”Huh! Mek a Blairsdale 'ceited?” retorted Mammy, as she started up to the attic. ”Dey's got too much what dey _knows_ is de right stuff fer ter pester dey haids studyin' 'bout it; it's right dar all de endurin'
time; dey ain' gotter chase atter it lessen dey loses it.”
”Was there ever such a philosopher as Mammy?” laughed Constance as they got beyond hearing.
”Wish there were a few more with as much sound sense--black or white--”
answered Eleanor as she shook out one of Jean's frocks and hung it across the clothes-line.
A moment later Mammy joined them with more garments which cried aloud for the glorious fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne. She hung piece after piece upon the line, giving a shake here, a pat there, or almost a caress upon another, for each one recalled to her loving old heart the memory of more prosperous days, and each held its story for her. When all were swinging in the suns.h.i.+ne she stepped back and surveyed the array, her mouth pursed up quizzically, but her eyes full of kindness.
”What are you thinking of Mammy?” asked Constance, slipping her fingers into Mammy's work-hardened hand very much as she had done when a little child.
”Hum; Um: What's I t'inkin' of? I'se t'inkin' dat ar lot ob clo'se supin lak we-all here: De'y good stuff in um, an' I reckon dey c'n stan' 'spection, on'y dey sartin _do_ stan' in need ob jist a _leetle_ spondulix fer ter put em in shape. Dar's _too much_ ob em spread all _ober_. What dey needs is ter rip off some o' dem _ruffles_ and jis hang ter de plain frocks ter tek keer ob. We spen's a heap ob time bres.h.i.+n' ruffles dat we better spen' tekin' keer ob de frocks in,”
concluded Mammy with a sage nod as she turned and walked into the house.
”Upon my word I believe Mammy's pretty near right Eleanor. We _have_ got a good many _ruffles_ to take care of on this big place and I sometimes feel that mother is wearing herself out caring for them.
Perhaps we would be wiser to give them up.”
”Perhaps we would,” agreed Eleanor, ”but where will we go if we give up the home? We have hardly known any other, for we were both too little to think much about homes or anything else when we came into this one. For my part, I am ready to do whatever is best and wisest, although I love every stick and stone here. Mother has looked terribly worried lately although she hasn't said one word to me. Has she to you?
”No, nothing at all. But I know what you mean; her eyes look so tired.
I wonder if anything new has arisen to make her anxious. She says so little at any time. I mean to have a talk with her this evening if I can get a chance. Do you get Jean out of the way. She is such an everlasting chatterbox that there is no hope of a quiet half hour while she is around. Now let's take an inventory of this array and plan my frivolity frock,” and Constance drew Eleanor down upon a rustic seat at one side of the lawn to discuss the absorbing question of the new gown to be evolved from some of the old ones which were swaying in the wind.
Perhaps a half hour pa.s.sed, the girls were giving little heed to time, for the drowsy dreamy influence of the afternoon was impressing itself upon them. Constance had planned the gown to the minutest detail, Eleanor agreeing and secretly marveling at her ability to do so, when both became aware of a strong odor of smoke.
”What is burning, I wonder?” said Constance, glancing in the direction of a patch of woodland not far off.
”Leaves, most likely. The Henrys' gardener has burned piles and piles of them ever since they began falling. I shouldn't think there would be any left for him to burn,” answered Eleanor, looking in the same direction.
”It doesn't smell like leaves, it smells like wood, and--oh! Eleanor, Eleanor, look! look at your window! The smoke is just pouring from it!
The house is a-fire! Run! Run! Quick! Quick!”
CHAPTER IX
Spontaneous Combustion
Had the ground opened and disgorged the town, men, women and children could hardly have appeared upon the scene with more startling prompt.i.tude than they appeared within five minutes after Constance's discovery of the smoke. How they got there only those who manage to get to every fire before the alarm ceases to sound can explain, and, as usual, there arrived with them the over-officious, and the over-zealous.
As Constance and Eleanor rushed into the house, the mult.i.tude rushed across the grounds and followed them hotfoot, while one, more level-headed than his fellows, hastened to the nearest fire-box to turn in an alarm.
Meanwhile Mammy had also smelt the smoke, and as the girls ran through the front hall she came through the back one crying:
”Fo' de Lawd's sake wha' done happen? De house gwine burn down on top our haids?”
”Quick, Mammy. It's Eleanor's room,” cried Constance as she flew up the stairs.
Mammy needed no urging. In one second she had grasped the situation and was up in Mrs. Carruth's room dragging forth such articles and treasures as she knew to be most valued and piling them into a blanket. There was little time to waste for the flames had made considerable headway when discovered and were roaring wildly through the upper floor when the fire apparatus arrived. Mrs. Carruth was out driving with a friend and Jean was off with her beloved Amy Fletcher.