Part 1 (2/2)
But one great help and comfort was coming to good little Sally. An ignorant woman was Mistress Brace, for indeed she could scarcely more than read and write, and she cared more for money and show than she did for better things, such as learning and filling the mind with useful knowledge.
People who know but little are likely to be superst.i.tious; they are very quick to believe foolish and untrue sayings, or things that in the least alarm them, perhaps having in them something to dread.
One day, who should come along but a kind old colored woman, who sometimes pa.s.sed the corner house of Slipside Row, and noticed how much work the little girl who lived there always had to do. On this particular day, the next one after Sally had listened to the Fairy story, as Mammy Leezer saw her scrubbing the steps, she said to Mistress Brace, who was standing at a little distance:
”And when do lil Missy go outen to play?”
”Children have no need to waste time in playing,” snapped Mistress Brace, and she glanced around, hoping Sally could not hear. ”Don't you go a-talking! Sally's out o' doors nearly all the time; what more can she want, I should like to know?”
The old black woman shook her head several times, and looked sly and knowing, as she said in her sweet old voice:
”Jus' you keep lil Missy at work all de time and see what happen!
Chillerns should have a good long play hour eb'ry day. Chillerns should hab their suppers right early, an' de chile dat have to work affer de supper's down her frote, doan't you go a-asting me what happen to de pusson dat makes her do de work! Doan't you go a-asting me dat!”
Mammy rolled her eyes, tossed up her dusky hands, and away she trundled as if things too dreadful to be spoken were in her mind. And Mistress Cory Ann for once forgot to scold, because of a creepy feeling that seemed travelling up her spine. She did not say a word then, neither was there danger that she might forget what Mammy Leezer had said.
Mammy lived in her cabin at ”the quarters,” at Ingleside, but was getting old and lame, and but little work was required of her. A famous cook and nurse she had been in her day, but now she had ”de rheumatiz”
in her ”jints,” and a touch of ”de asthmy” often at night.
So beyond doing fancy cooking, when there was company at the mansion, or now and then tending some one who was ill, Mammy sat serenely smoking her pipe at the cabin door, while knitting socks ”for de men folkses.”
And she declared herself ”a berry comforable ole pusson,” in spite of her aches and pains.
Oh, wonder of wonders! That night, to Sally's astonishment and great delight, did Mistress Cory Ann tell the child that ”for reasons” she would herself wash the supper dishes, and she added:
”After this, whenever you have worked well through the day, I reckon I don't care what you do with yourself after supper, only that you need not stray far away; I might be wanting you.”
Supper at Mistress Cory Ann's was not much of an affair, but as she boarded two or three hired men, plenty of dishes there always were to be washed, and nearly bedtime it would be before Sally could get cleared up.
But, now, oh, joy! as soon as that meal was over, Sally was to be free, free! Up she rushed to her cubby of a room in the attic, caught up a piece of looking-gla.s.s she had found one lucky day up by the great house, and peering at her own queer little image in the bit of mirror, she piped, in tones of great glee:
”Did you hear _that_, Sally Dukeen? Did'st hear that, little Mistress Sally!”
CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT HOUSE
Of all things lovely and full of fascination in Sally's little narrow world, everything in and about Ingleside stood far and away the highest in her eyes.
It was her delight, her admiration, her dream by day and her dream by night. Ingleside! With its wide-spreading mansion, its far-reaching plantation that was, after all, but a short run for an agile child from Slipside Row.
Had Sally known the meaning of such a word as ”romance,” which is a sweet and wonderful story, or happening, or dream, she would have known that the chief bewitchment of her life sprang from the dear romance that to her fancy was all about fair Ingleside.
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