Part 11 (1/2)
”Yas, honey, Mammy's comin'; comin' wid yo' lolly-pop, kase she want yo' ter step out spry. Yo's gwine enter a pa'tner-s.h.i.+p, yo' know _dat_, Baltie-hawse? Yo' sure _is_. Yo's de silen' pa'tner, yo' is, an' de bline one too. Jis as well ter hab one ob 'em bline mebbe,” and Mammy chuckled delightedly at her own joke. ”Now come 'long out an' be hitched up, kase we's gwine inter business, yo' an' me' an' we gotter do some hustlin'. Come 'long,” and opening the door of the box-stall in which old Baltie now-a-days luxuriated, Mammy dragged him forth by his forelock and in less time than one could have believed it possible, had him harnessed to the old-fas.h.i.+oned basket phaeton which during Mrs. Stuyvesant's early married life had been a most up-to-date equipage, but which now looked as odd and antiquated as the old horse harnessed to it. But in Mammy's eyes they were tangible riches, for Hadyn Stuyvesant had presented her with both phaeton and harness.
Opening wide the stable doors, Mammy clambered into her chariot, and taking up the reins, guided her steed gently forward. Baltie ambled sedately up to the back door where Constance was waiting to hand Mammy the box.
”Mind de do' an' don' let my apples bake all ter cinders,” warned Mammy.
”I will. I won't. Good luck,” contradicted Constance, as she ran back into the house, and Mammy drove off toward South Riveredge; a section of the town as completely given over to commercial interests as Riveredge proper was to its homes. There a large carpet factory throve and flourished giving employment to many hands. There, also, stood a large building called the Central Arcade in which many business men had their offices. It was about a mile from the heart of Riveredge proper and as Mammy jogged along toward her destination, she had ample time to think, and chuckle to herself at her astuteness in carrying out her own ideas of the fitness of things while apparently fully concurring with Constance's wishes. Mammy had no objections to Constance _making_ all the candy she chose to make; that could be done within the privacy of her own home and shock _no_ one's sensibilities.
But when the girl had announced her intention of going among her friends to secure customers, Mammy had descended upon her with all her powers of opposition. The outcome had been the present compromise.
Very few people in South Riveredge knew the Carruths or Mammy, and this was exactly what the old woman wished.
Driving her ”gallumping” steed to the very heart of the busy town she drew up at the curbstone in front of the Arcade just a few moments before the five o'clock whistles blew. Stepping from her vehicle she placed a campstool upon the sidewalk beside it, and lifting her box of candy from the seat established herself upon her stool with the open box upon her lap. Within two minutes of the blowing of the whistles the streets were alive with people who came hurrying from the buildings on every side. Mammy was a novelty and like most novelties took at once, so presently she was doing a thriving business, her tongue going as fast as her packages of candy. People are not unlike sheep; where one leads, all the others follow.
”Home-made candy, sah! Fresh f'om de home-kitchen; jis done mek hit.
Ain' hardly col'. Ten cents a package, sah. Yes _sah_, yo' better is bleeve hit's deleshus. Yo' ain' tas' no pralines lak dem in all yo'
bo'n days,” ran on Mammy handing out her packages of candy and dropping her dimes into the little bag at her side.
”Here, Aunty, give me four of those packages of fudge,” cried a genial, gray-haired, portly old gentleman with a military bearing.
”Porter, here, has just given me some of his and they're simply great!
Did you make 'em? They touch the spot.”
”La, suh, I ain' _got_ four left: I ain', fer a fac'. Tek some of de pralines; deys mighty good, suh,” bustled Mammy, offering her dainties.
”Take all you've got. Did _you_ make 'em?” persisted her customer.
”My _pa'tner_ done mak 'em,” said Mammy with dignity, as she handed over her last package.
”Well you darkies _can_ cook,” cried the gentleman as he took the candy.
For a moment it seemed as though Mammy were about to fly at him, and her customer was not a little astounded at the transformation which came over her old face. Then he concluded that the term ”darkie” had been the rock on which they had split, and smiled as he said:
”Better set up business right here in the Arcade. Buy you and your _partner_ out every day. Good-bye, Auntie.”
”Good-bye, suh! Good-bye,” responded Mammy, her equanimity quite restored, for her good sense told her that no reflections had been cast upon her ”pa'tner” in Riveredge, or her ident.i.ty suspected.
Moreover, her late customer had put a new idea into her wise old head which she turned over again and again as she drove back home.
Constance was waiting with the lantern, and hurried out to the stable as Mammy turned in at the gate.
”Oh, Mammy, did you _sell_ some?” she asked eagerly.
”Sell some! What I done druv dar fer? Co'se I sell some; I sell eve'y las' bit an' grain. Tek dat bag an' go count yo' riches, honey. _Sell some!_ Yah! Yah!” laughed Mammy as she descended from her chariot and began to unharness her steed, while Constance hugged the bag and hurried into the house.
”What are you hiding under your cape?” demanded Jean as her sister ran through the hall, and up the stairs. Jean's eyes did not often miss anything.
”My deed to future wealth and greatness,” answered Constance merrily, as she slipped into her room and locked the door, where she dumped the contents of the bag, dimes, nickels, and pennies, into the middle of the bed.
”Merciful sakes! Who would have believed it?” she gasped. ”Four dollars and eighty cents for one afternoon's work, and at least three-eighty of it clear profit, and Mammy has _got_ to share some of it. Mumsie, dear, I think I can keep the family's feet covered at all events,” she concluded in an ecstatic whisper.
CHAPTER XII