Part 15 (1/2)
”No, I am Homer Forbes. My mother's mother was a Blairsdale. I cannot claim the honor.”
”Yo' kin claim de _blood_ dough, an' dat's all yo' hatter claim. Yo'
don' need ter claim nuttin' else ef yo' got some ob _dat_. But I mustn't stan' here talkin' no longer. Yo' kin come an' see my Miss Jinny ef yo' wantter. If yo's kin ob de Blairsdales' she'll be pintedly glad fer ter know yo',” ended Mammy, courtesying to this branch of the blood royal, and turning to lead Baltie up the hill.
”Thank you. I think I'll accept the invitation before very long. I'd like to know Miss Jean a little better. Good-day Mammy _Blairsdale_.”
”Good-day, suh! Good-day,” answered Mammy, smiling benignly upon the favored being.
As she drew near the house a perplexed expression overspread her old face. She still held the handkerchief with its weight of change; earnest of the morning's good intentions. Yet what a morning it had been for her and the others!
”I clar ter goodness dat chile lak ter drive us all 'stracted. Fust she scare us nigh 'bout ter death, an' we ready fer ter frail her out fer her doin's. Den she come pa'radin' home wid a bagful ob cash kase she tryin' fer ter help we-all. _Den_ what yo' gwine 'do wid her?
Smack her kase she done plague yo', or praise her kase she doin' her bes' fer ter mek t'ings go a little mite easier fer her ma?” ended Mammy, bringing her tongue against her teeth in a sound of irritation.
Meanwhile the cause of all the commotion had gone tearing up the hill and into the house where she ran pell-mell into Eleanor who had just come home, and who knew nothing of the excitement of the past few hours. Constance had gone over to Amy Fletcher's to inquire for the runaway. Jean was on the border land between tears and anger, and Eleanor was greeted with:
”Now I suppose _you_ are going to lecture me too, tell me I'd no business to go off. Well you just needn't do any such a thing, and I don't care if I _did_ scare you. It was all your own fault 'cause you wouldn't let me into your old secret, and I'm _glad_ I scared you. Yes I am!” the words ended in a storm of sobs.
For a moment Eleanor stood dumfounded. Then realizing that something more lay behind the volley of words than she understood, she said:
”Come up to my room with me, Jean. I don't know what you are talking about. If anything is wrong tell me about it, but don't bother mother.
The little Mumsey has a lot to bother her as it is.”
Jean instantly stopped crying and looked at this older sister who sometimes seemed very old indeed to her.
”_You_ don't know what all the fuss is about, and why Mammy is waiting to give me Hail Columbia?” she asked incredulously.
”I have just this moment come in. I have been out at Aunt Eleanor's all the morning, as you know quite well if you will stop to think,”
answered Eleanor calmly.
”Then come up-stairs quick before Mammy gets in; I see her coming in the gate now. I did something that made her as mad as hops and scared mother. Come I'll tell you all about it,” and Jean flew up the stairs ahead of Eleanor. Rus.h.i.+ng into her sister's room she waited only for Eleanor to pa.s.s the threshold before slamming the door together and turning the key.
Eleanor dropped her things upon the bed and sitting down upon a low chair, said:
”Come here, Jean.” Jean threw herself upon her sister's lap, and clasping her arms about her, nestled her head upon her shoulder.
Eleanor held her a moment without speaking, feeling that it would be wiser to let her excitement subside a little. Then she said: ”Now tell me the whole story, Jean.”
Jean told it from beginning to end, and ended by demanding:
”Don't you really, truly, know anything about the candy Constance is making to sell?”
”I know that she is making candy, and that she contrives somehow to sell a good deal of it, but she and Mammy have kept the secret as to _how_ it is sold. They did not tell me, and I wouldn't ask,” said Eleanor looking straight into Jean's eyes.
”Oh!” said Jean.
”Mammy has rather high ideas of what we ought or ought not to do, you know, Jean,” continued Eleanor, ”and she was horrified at the idea of Constance making candy for money. And yet, Jean, both Constance and I _must_ do something to help mother. You say we keep you out of our secrets. We don't keep you _out_ of them, but we see no reason _why_ you should be made to bear them. Constance and I are older, and it is right that we should share some of the burden which mother must bear, but you are only a little girl and ought to be quite care-free.”
Jean's head dropped a trifle lower.