Part 1 (2/2)
”Come 'ere, Pud Hon,” continued Mrs. Bivins, calling the child, and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the demonstrative terms of ”Pudding” and ”Honey” to suit all exigencies of affection--”come 'ere, Pud Hon, an' tell the gentulmun howdy. Gracious me! don't be so _countrified_. He ain't a-gwine to _bite_ you. No, sir, you won't fine no begrudgers mixed up with the _Sanderses_. Hit useter be a _common_ sayin' in Jones, an' cle'r 'cross into Jasper, that pa would 'a bin a rich man an' 'a owned _n.i.g.g.e.rs_ if it hadn't but 'a bin bekase he sot his head agin stintin' of his stomach. That's what they useter say--usen't they, Mingo?”
”Dat w'at I year tell, Miss F'raishy--sho',” Mingo a.s.sented, with great heartiness. But Mrs. Bivins's volubility would hardly wait for this perfunctory indors.e.m.e.nt. She talked as she arranged the dishes, and occasionally she would hold a piece of crockery suspended in the air as she emphasised her words. She dropped into a mortuary strain--”Poor pa! I don't never have nuthin' extry an' I don't never see a dish er fried chicken but what pa pops in my mind. A better man hain't never draw'd the breath of life--that they hain't. An' he was thes as gayly as a kitten. When we gals'd have comp'ny to dinner, pore pa he'd cut his eye at me, an' up an' say, says he, 'Gals, this 'ere turkey's mighty nice, yit I'm reely afeared you put too much inguns in the stuffin. Maybe the young men don't like 'em as good as you all does;'
an' then pore pa'd drap his knife an' fork, an' laugh tell the tears come in his eyes. Sister Prue she useter run off an' have a cry, but I was one er the kind what wa'n't easy sot back.
”I'd 'a bin mighty glad if Pud yer had er took airter pa's famerly, but frum the tip eend er her toe nails to the toppermust ha'r of her head she's a Wornum. Hit ain't on'y thes a streak yer an' a stripe thar-- hit's the whole bolt. I reckon maybe you know'd ole Jedge June Wornum; well, Jedge June he was Pud's gran'pa, an' Deely Wornum was her ma.
Maybe you might 'a seed Deely when she was a school-gal.”
Cordelia Wornum! No doubt my astonishment made itself apparent, for Mrs. Bivins bridled up promptly, and there was a clearly perceptible note of defiance in her tone as she proceeded.
”Yes, sir-ree! _An' make no mistake!_ Deely Wornum married my son, an'
Henry Clay Bivina made 'er a good husbun', if I do have to give it out myse'f. Yes, 'ndeed! An' yit if you'd 'a heern the rippit them Wornums kicked up, you'd 'a thought the pore chile'd done took'n run off 'long of a whole pa.s.sel er high pirates frum somewheres er 'nother. In about that time the ole Jedge he got sorter fibbled up, some say in his feet, an' some say in his head; but his wife, that Em'ly Wornum, she taken on awful. I never seen her a-gwine on myse'f; not that they was any hidin'
out 'mongst the Bivinses er the Sanderses--bless you, no! bekaze here's what wa'n't afeared er all the Wornums in the continental State er Georgy, not if they'd 'a mustered out under the lead er ole Nick hisse'f, which I have my doubta if he wa'n't somewheres aroun'. I never seen 'er, but I heern tell er how she was a-cuttin' up. You mayn't think it, but that 'oman taken it on herse'f to call up all the n.i.g.g.e.rs on the place an' give 'em her forbiddance to go an' see the'r young mistiss.”
”Yit I lay dey tuck 'n sneak 'roun' en come anyhow, ain't dey, Miss F'raishy?” inquired Mingo, rubbing his hands together and smiling blandly.
”_That_ they did--_that_ they did!” was Mrs. Bivins's emphatic response. ”n.i.g.g.e.rs is n.i.g.g.e.rs, but them Wornum n.i.g.g.e.rs was a cut er two 'bove the common run. I'll say that, an' I'll say it on the witness stan'. Freedom might a turned the'r heads when it come to t'other folks, but hit didn't never turn the'r heads 'bout the'r young mistiss.
An' if Mingo here hain't done his juty 'cordin' to his lights, then I dunner what juty is. I'll say that open an' above-board, high an' low.”
The curious air of condescension which Mrs. Bivins a.s.sumed as she said this, the tone of apology which she employed in paying this tribute to Mingo and the Wornum negroes, formed a remarkable study. Evidently she desired me distinctly to understand that in applauding these worthy coloured people she was in no wise compromising her own dignity.
Thus Mrs. Bivins rattled away, pausing only long enough now and then to deplore my lack of appet.i.te. Meanwhile Mingo officiated around the improvised board with gentle affability; and the little girl, bearing strong traces of her lineage in her features--a resemblance which was confirmed by a pretty little petulance of temper--made it convenient now and again to convey a number of tea cakes into Mingo's hat, which happened to be sitting near, the conveyance taking place in spite of laughable pantomimic protests on the part of the old man, ranging from appealing nods and grimaces to indignant frowns and gestures.
”When Deely died,” Mrs. Bivins went on, waving a towel over a tempting jar of preserves, ”they wa'n't n.o.body but what was afeared to break it to Emily Wornum, an' the pore chile'd done been buried too long to talk about before her ma heern tell of it, an' then she drapped like a clap er thunder had hit 'er. Airter so long a time, Mingo thar he taken it 'pun hisse'f to tell 'er, an' she flopped right down in 'er tracks, an'
Mingo he holp 'er into the house, an', bless your life, when he come to he'p 'er out'n it, she was a changed 'oman. 'Twa'n't long 'fore she taken a notion to come to my house, an' one mornin' when I was a-was.h.i.+n' up dishes, I heern some un holler at the gate, an' thar sot Mingo peerched up on the Wornum carry-all, an' of all livin' flesh, who should be in thar but ole Emily Wornum!
”Hit's a sin to say it,” continued Mrs. Bivins, smiling a dubious little smile that was not without its serious suggestions, ”but I tightened up my apern strings, an' flung my glance aroun' tell hit drapped on the battlin'-stick, bekaze I flared up the minnit I seen 'er, an' I says to myse'f, says I: 'If hit's a fracas youer huntin', my lady, I lay you won't hafter put on your specs to fine it.' An' then I says to Pud, says I--
”'Pud Hon, go in the shed-room thar, chile, an' if you hear anybody a-hollerin' an' a-squallin', thes shet your eyeleds an' grit your teeth, bekaze hit'll be your pore ole granny a-tryin' to git even with some er your kin.'
”An' then I taken a cheer an' sot down by the winder. D'reckly in come Emily Wornum, an' I wish I may die if I'd 'a know'd 'er if I'd saw 'er anywheres else on the face er the yeth. She had this 'ere kinder dazzled look what wimmen has airter they bin baptized in the water. I helt my head high, but I kep' my eye on the battlin'-stick, an' if she'd 'a made fight, I'll be boun' they'd 'a bin some ole sco'es settled then an' thar if ole sco'es ken be settled by a frailin'. But, bless your heart, they wa'n't never no cammer 'oman than what Emily Wornum was; an' if you'd 'a know'd 'er, an' Mingo wa'n't here to b'ar me out, I wish I may die if I wouldn't be afeared to tell you how ca'm an' supjued that 'oman was, which in her young days she was a tarrifier. She up an' says, says she--
”'Is Mizzers Bivins in?'
”'Yessum,' says I, 'she is that-away. An more 'n that, n.o.body don't hafter come on this hill an' holler more 'n twicet 'thout gittin'some kinder answer back. _Yessum!_ An' what's more, Mizzers Bivins is come to that time er life when she's mighty proud to git calls from the big-bugs. If I had as much perliteness, ma'am, as I is cheers, I'd ast you to set down,' says I.
”She stood thar, she did, thes as cool as a cowc.u.mber; but d'reckly she ups an' says, says she--
”'Might I see my little gran'chile?' says she.
”'Oho, ma'am!' says I; 'things is come to a mighty purty pa.s.s when quality folks has to go frum house to house a-huntin' up pore white trash, an' a-astin' airter the'r kin. Tooby sh.o.r.e! tooby sh.o.r.e! Yessum, a mighty purty pa.s.s,' says I.”
I cannot hope to give even a faint intimation of the remarkable dramatic fervour and earnestness of this recital, nor shall I attempt to describe the rude eloquence of att.i.tude and expression; but they seemed to represent the real or fancied wrongs of a cla.s.s, and to spring from the pent-up rage of a century.
”I wa'n't lookin' fer no compermise, nuther,” Mrs. Bivins continued. ”I fully spected 'er to flar' up an' fly at me; but 'stedder that, she kep' a-stan'in' thar lookin' thes like folks does when theyer runnin'
over sump'n in the'r min'. Then her eye lit on some 'er the pictur's what Deely had hung up on the side er the house, an' in pertic'lar one what some 'er the Woruum n.i.g.g.e.rs had fetched 'er, whar a great big dog was a-watehin' by a little bit er baby. When she seen that, bless your soul, she thes sunk right down on the floor, an' clincht 'er han's, an'
brung a gasp what looked like it might er bin the last, an' d'reckly she ast, in a whisper, says she--
”'Was this my dear daughter's room?'
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