xt71c53dz57k https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt71c53dz57k/data/mets.xml Johnston, Annie F. (Annie Fellows), 1863-1931. 1910  books b92-247-31689486 English L.C. Page, : Boston : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Ole mammy's torment  / by Annie Fellows Johnston ; illustrated by Mary G. Johnston and Amy M. Sacker. text Ole mammy's torment  / by Annie Fellows Johnston ; illustrated by Mary G. Johnston and Amy M. Sacker. 1910 2002 true xt71c53dz57k section xt71c53dz57k 

















OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT

 




                       Works of
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OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT





                BY
     ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON



   Ullustrateb Xp
MARY G. JOHNSTON
      AND
 AMY M. SACKER



       BOSTON
L. C PAGE AND COMPANY
     (INCORPORATED)
     P u b I i s h e r s

 

















             Copyright, 1897
     By L. C. PAGE AND COMPANi
              (INCORPORATED)








  Thirteenth Impression, February, 1907
  Frourteenth Impression, March, i909
  Fifteenth Impression, August, i910






             Colonial Wrtw:
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
           Boston, Mass., U. S. A.

 


































          TO

TWO TORMENTS WHOM I KNOW

 This page in the original text is blank.

 
























                                            PAGE

B1 Ur. AND IVY                        Frontispiece

JOHN JAY.       ....                         2

"' WOT WE ALL GWINE DO NOW"'    .7

MARS' NAT     ..        .         ..         29

"A GROUP OF PRETTY GIRI.S SAT O.N THE PORCH"  37

"FILLED BOTH HIS HANDS"                       41

UNDER THE APPLE-TREE .    .   .    .     .    52

UNCLE BILLY           .    .     .    .      65

"TIlE GANDERS HAD CHASED HIM AROUND"   .  . 76

"GEORGE CAME OUT AND LOCKED THE DOOR".    .  93

"SAT ALONE BY THE CHURCH STEPS"    .   .   . III

 This page in the original text is blank.

 












   OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.


                CHAPTER I.

  UNCLE BILLY rested his axe on the log he
was chopping, and turned his grizzly old head
to one side, listening intently. A confusion of
sounds came from the little cabin across the
road. It was a dilapidated negro cabin, with
its roof awry and the weather-boarding off in
great patches; still, it was a place of interest
to Uncle Billy. His sister lived there with
three orphan grandchildren.
  Leaning heavily on his axe-handle, he thrust
out his under lip, and rolled his eyes in the
direction of the uproar. A broad grin spread
over his wrinkled black face as he heard the
rapid spank of a shingle, the scolding tones of
an angry voice, and a prolonged howl.
                      I



e-14-

 


OLE MAMMY' S TORMENT.



  "John Jay an' he gran'mammy 'peah to be
havin' a right sma't difference of opinion to-
gethah this mawnin'," he chuckled.
  He shaded his eyes with his stiff, crooked
fingers for a better view. A pair of nimble
black legs skipped back and forth across the
open doorway, in a vain attempt to dodge the
                       descending  shingle,
                       while a clatter of falling
                       tinware  followed  old
                       Mammy's portly figure,
                       as she made awkward
                       but surprising turns in
                       her wrathful cir-cuit Of
                       the crowded room.
                         " Ow! I'll be good!
                       I'll be  good!     Oh,
Mammv. don't!I You'se a-kiuln' me!" came in



a high shriek.
  Then there was a sudden dash for the cabin
door, and an eight-year-old colored boy scurried
down the path like a little wild rabbit, as fast as
his bare feet could carry him. The noise ended
as suddenly as it had begun; so suddenly, in-
deed, that the silence seemed intense, although
the air was full of all the low twitterings and



2

 

OLE MAIMMY S TORMENT.



soft spring sounds that come with the early
days of April.
  Uncle Billy stood chuckling over the boy's
escape. The situation had been made clear to
him by the angry exclamations he had just over-
heard. John Jay, left in charge of the weekly
washing, flapping on the line, had been unfaith-
ful to his trust. A neighbor's goat had taken
advantage of his absence to chew up a pillow-
case and two aprons.
  Really, the child was not so much to blame.
It was the fault of the fish-pond, sparkling
below the hill.  But old Mammy couldn't
understand that. She had never been a boy,
with the water tempting her to come and angle
for its shining minnows; with the budding wil-
lows beckoning her, and the warm winds luring
her on. But Uncle Billy understood, and felt
with a sympathetic tingle in every rheumatic
old joint, that it was a temptation beyond the
strength of any boy living to resist.
  His chuckling suddenly stopped as the old
woman appeared in the doorway. He fell to
chopping again with such vigor that the chips
flew wildly in all directions. He knew from
the way that her broad feet slapped along the



3

 

OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



beaten path that she was still angry, and he
thought it safest to take no notice of her, be-
yond a cheery "d Good mawnin', sis' Sheba."
  " Huh ! Not much good about it that I can
see! " was her gloomy reply. Lowering the
basket she carried from her head to a fence-
post, she began the story of her grievances.
It was an old story to Uncle Billy, somewhat
on the order of " The house that Jack built ;"
for, after telling John Jay's latest pranks, she
always repeated the long line of misdeeds of
which he had been guilty since the first day he
had found a home under her sagging rooftree.
  Usually she found a sympathetic listener in
Uncle Billy, but this morning the only comfort
he offered was an old plantation proverb, spoken
with brotherly frankness.
  - Vell, sis' Sheba, I 'low it'll be good for you
in the long run. ' Troubles is seasonin'. 'Sim-
mons ain't good twel dey er fros'bit,' you know."
  He stole a sidelong glance at her from under
his bushy eyebrows, to see the effect of his
remark. She tossed her head defiantly. -I
'low if the choice was left to the 'simmon or
you eithah, brer Billy, you'd both take the
greenness an' the puckah befo' the fros'bite



4

 



OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



every time." Then a tone of complaint trem-
bled in her voice.
  -I might a needed chastenin' in my youth,
I don't 'spute that; but why should I now, a
trim'lin' on the aidge of the tomb, almos',
have to put up with that limb of a John Jay
If my poah Ellen knew what a tawment her
boy is to her ole mammy, I know she couldn't
rest easy in her grave."
  - John Jay, he don't mean to be bad," re-
marked Uncle Billy soothingly.  "It's jus'
'cause he's so young an' onthinkin'. An' aftah
all, it ain't what he does. It's mo' like what
the white folks say in they church up on the
hill. II have lef' undone the things what I
ought to 'uv done.'"
  Doubled up out of sight, behind the bushes
that lined the roadside ditch, John Jay held his
breath and listened. When the ringing strokes
of the axe began again, he ventured to poke out
his woolly head until the whites of his eyes
were visible. Sheba was trudging down the
road with her basket on her head, to the place
where she always washed on Tuesdays. She
was far enough on her way now to make it
safe for him to come out of hiding.



5

 



OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



  The tears had dried on the boy's long curling
lashes, but his bare legs still smarted from the
blows of the shingle, as he climbed slowly out
of the bushes and started back to the cabin.
  "Hey, Bud! Come on, Ivy! " he called
cheerfully. Nobody answered. It was a part
of the programme, whenever John Jay was
punished, for the little brother and sister to
run and hide under the back-door step. There
they cowered, with covered neads, until the dan-
ger was over. Old Sheba had never frowned
on the four-year-old Bud, or baby Ivy, but
they scuttled out of sight like frightened mice
at the first signal of her gathering wrath.
  Ivy lay still with her thumb in her mouth,
but Bud began solemnly crawling out from be-
tween the steps.  Everything that Bud did
seemed solemn. Even his smiles were slow-
spreading and dignified. Some people called
him Judge; but John Jay, wise in the negro
lore of their neighborhood Uncle Remus,
called him "Brer Tarrypin" for good reasons
of his own.
  "Wot we all gwine do now" drawled Bud,
with a turtle-like stretch of his little round head
as he peered through the steps.



6

 


OLE MAMMY S TORMENT.



7



  John Jay scanned the horizon on all sides,
and thoughtfully rubbed his ear. His quick
eyes saw unlimited possibilities for enjoyment,
where older sight would have found but a dreary



outlook; but older sight is always on a strain
for the birds in the bush.  It is never satisfied
with the one in the hand. Older sight would
have seen only a poor shanty set in a patch of



i  
I            
i

 

OLE MAMMY' S TORMENT.



weeds and briers, and a narrow path straggling
down to the dust of the public road. But the
outlook was satisfactory to John Jay. So was
it to the neighbor's goat, standing motionless
in the warm sunshine, with its eyes cast in the
direction of a newly-made garden. So was it
to the brood of little yellow goslings, waddling
after their mother. They vwere out of their
shells, and the world was wide.
  Added to this same feeling of general con-
tentment with his lot, John Jay had the peace
that came from the certainty that, no matter
what he might do, punishment could not possibly
overtake him before nightfall. His grandmother
was always late coming home on Tuesday.
  " Wot we all gwine do now " repeated Bud.
  John Jay caught at the low branch of the
apple-tree to which the clothes-line was tied,
and drew himself slowly up. He did not reply
until he had turned himself over the limb several
times, and hung head downward by the knees.
  " Go snake huntin', I reckon."
  "But Mammy said not to take Ivy in the
briah-patch again," said Bud solemnly.
  " That's so," exclaimed John Jay, " an' shingle
say so too," he added, with a grin, for his legs



8

 


OLE MAMMY S TORMENT.



still smarted. Loosening the grip of his knees on
the apple-bough, he turned a summersault back-
ward and landed on his feet as lightly as a cat.
  "J Ivy'll go to sleep aftah dinnah," suggested
BLud. " She always do." It seemed a long time
to wait until then, but with the remembrance of
his last punishment still warm in mind and
body, John Jay knew better than to take his
little sister to the forbidden briar-patch.
  "d Well, we can dig a lot of fishin' worms," he
decided, "an' put 'em in those tomato cans
undah the ash-hoppah. Then we'll make us a
mud oven an' roast us some duck aigs. No-
body but me knows where the nest is."
  Bud's eyes shone. The prospect was an in-
viting one.
  Most of the morning passed quickly, but the
last half-hour was spent in impatiently waiting
for their dinner. They knew it was spread out
under a newspaper on the rickety old table, but
they had strict orders not to touch it until Aunt
Susan sounded her signal for Uncle Billy. So
they sat watching the house across the road.
  "d Now it's time! " cried Bud excitedly. "I
see Aunt Susan goin' around the end of the
house with her spoon."



9

 

OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



  An old cross-cut saw hung by one handle
from a peg in the stick chimney. As she beat
upon it now with a long, rusty iron spoon, the
din that filled the surrounding air was worse
than any made by the noisiest gong ever beaten
before a railroad restaurant. Uncle Billy, hoe-
ing in a distant field, gave an answering whoop,
and waved his old hat.
  The children raced into the house and tore
the newspaper from the table. Under it were
three cold boiled potatoes, a dish of salt, a cup
of molasses, and a big pone of corn-bread. As
head of the family, John Jay divided everything
but the salt exactly into thirds, and wasted no
time in ceremonies before beginning. As soon
as the last crumb was finished he spread an old
quilt in front of the fireplace, where the embers,
though covered deep in ashes, still kept the
hearth warm.
  No coaxing was needed to induce Ivy to lie
down. Even if she had not been tired and
sleepy she would have obeyed. John Jay's
word was law in his grandmother's absence.
Then he sat down on the doorstep and waited
for her to go to sleep.
  " If she wakes up and gets out on the road



IO

 



OLE MAMMY S TORMENT.



while we're gone, won't I catch it, though!"
he exclaimed to Bud in an undertone.
  "Shet the doah," suggested Bud.
  "No, she'd sut'n'ly get into some devilmint
if she was shet in by herself," he answered.
  "d How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
makes ill deeds done! " John Jay's roving eyes
fell on a broken teacup on the window-sill, that
-Wammy kept as a catch-all for stray buttons
and bits of twine. He remembered having
seen some rusty tacks among the odds and
ends. A loose brickbat stuck up suggestively
from the sunken hearth. The idea had not
much sooner popped into his head than the
deed was done. Bending over breathlessly to
make sure that the unsuspecting Ivy was
asleep, he nailed her little pink dress to the
floor with a row of rusty tacks. Then cau-
tiously replacing the bit of broken brick, he
made for the door, upsetting Bud in his hasty
leave-taking.
  Over in the briar-patch, out of sight of the
house, two happy little darkeys played all the
afternoon. They beat the ground with the stout
clubs they carried. They pried up logs in
search of snakes. They whooped, they sang,



I I

 



OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



they whistled. They rolled over and over each
other, giggling as they wrestled, in the sheer
delight of being alive on such a day. When
they finally killed a harmless little chicken-
snake, no prince of the royal blood, hunting
tigers in Indian jungles, could have been
prouder of his striped trophies than they were
of theirs.
  Meanwhile Ivy slept peacefully on, one little
hand sticking to her plump, molasses-smeared
cheek, the other holding fast to her headless
doll. Beside her on the floor lay a tattered
picture-book, a big bottle half full of red
shelled corn, and John Jay's most precious
treasure, a toy watch that could be endlessly
wound up. He had heaped them all beside her,
hoping they would keep her occupied until his
return, in case she should waken earlier than
usual.
  The sun was well on its way to bed when
the little hunters shouldered their clubs, with a
snake dangling from each one, and started for
the cabin.
  " My! I didn't know it was so late! " ex-
claimed John Jay ruefully, as they met a long
procession of home-going cows.   "Ain't it



12

 


OLE MAMMA'S TORMENT.



funny how soon sundown gets heah when yo'
havin' a good time, and how long it is a-comin'
when yo' isn't! "
  A dusky little figure rose up out of the weeds
ahead of them. "Land sakes! Ivy Hickman ! "
exclaimed John Jay, dropping his snake in sur-
prise. " How did you get heah "
  Ivy stuck her thumb in her mouth without
answering.  He took her by the shoulder,
about to shake a reply from her, when Bud
exclaimed, in a frightened voice, "Law, I see
Manimy comin'. Look! There she is now, in
front of Uncle Billy's house!"
  Throwing away his club, and catching Ivy up
in his short arms, John Jay staggered up the
path leading to the back of the house as fast as
such a heavy load would allow, leaving Brer
Tarrypin far in the rear. Just as he sank
down at the back door, all out of breath, o0l
Sheba reached the front one.
  -John Jay," she called, "what you doing',
chile"
  " Heah I is, Mammy," he answered. - I'se
jsts' takin' keer o' the chillun ! "
  "d That's right, honey, I've got somethin'
mighty good in my basket fo' we all's sup-



1 3

 

OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



pah. Hurry up now, an' tote in some kin'lin'
wood. "
  Never had John Jay sprung to obey as he did
then. He shivered when he thought of his
narrow escape. His arms were piled so full of
wood that he could scarcely see over them,
when he entered the poorly lighted little
cabin. He stumbled over the bottle of corn
and the picture-book.  Maybe he would not
have kicked them aside so gaily had he known
that his precious watch was lying in the cow-
path on the side of the hill where Ivy had
dropped it.
  Mammy was bending over, examining some-
thing at her feet. Five ragged strips of pink
calico lay along the floor, each held fast at one
end by a rusty tack driven into the puncheons.
Ivy had grown tired of her bondage, and had
tugged and twisted until she got away. The
faithful tacks had held fast, but the pink calico,
grown thin with long wear and many washings,
tore in ragged strips. Mammy glanced from
the floor to Ivy's tattered dress. and read the
whole stor)r.
  Outside, across the road, Uncle Billy leaned
over his front gate in the deepening twilight,



14

 


          OLE MAMMY 'S TORMENT.          15

and peacefully puffed at his corn-cob pipe. As
the smoke curled tip he bent his head to listen,
as he had done in the early morning. The day
was ending as it had begun, with the whack of
old Mamny's shingle, and the noise of John
Jay's loud weepiag.

 









CHAPTER It.



  IT was a warm night in May. The bright
moonlight shone in through the chinks of the
little cabin, and streamed across Ivy's face,
where she lay asleep on Maammy's big feather
bed. Bud was gently snoring in his corner of the
trundle-bed below, but John Jay kicked rest-
lessly beside him. He could not sleep with the
moonlight in his eyes and the frogs croaking so
mournfully in the pond back of the house. To
begin with, it was too early to go to bed, and in
the second place he wasn't a bit sleepy.
  Mammy sat on a bench just outside of the
door, with her elbows on her knees. She was
crooning a dismal song softly to herself,- some-
thing about

        Mary and Martha in deep distress,
        A-grievin' ovah brer Laz'rus' death."

It gave him such a creepy sort of feeling that
he stuck his fingers in his ears to shut out the
                      I6

 


OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



sound. Thus barricaded, he did not hear slow
footsteps shuffling up the path; but presently
the powerful fumes of a rank pipe told of an
approaching visitor. He took his fingers from
his ears and sat up.
  Uncle Billy and Aunt Susan had come over
to gossip a while. Mammy groped her way into
the house to drag out the wooden rocker
for her sister-in-law, while Uncle Billy tilted
himself back against the cabin in a straight
splint-bottomed chair. The usual opening re-
marks about the state of the family health, the
weather, and the crops were of very little inter-
est to John Jay; indeed he nearly fell asleep
while Aunt Susan was giving a detailed account
of the way she cured the misery in her side.
However, as soon as they began to discuss
neighborhood happenings, he was all atten-
tion.
  The more interested he grew, it seemed to
him, the lower they pitched their voices. Creep-
iiig carefully across the floor, he curled up on
his pillow just inside the doorway, where the
shadows fell heaviest, and where he could enjoy
evety word of the conversation, without strain-
ing his ears to listen.



17

 


OLE MAMMY S TORMENT.



  Ad Gawge Chadwick came home yestiddy,"
announced Uncle Billy.
  "s Sho now! " exclaimed Mammy. "Not lame
Jintsey's boy ! You don't mean it!
  " That's the ve'y one," persisted Uncle Billy.
"Gawge Washington Chadwick.    He's a min-
istah of the gospel now, home from college with
a Rev'und befo' his name, an' a long-tailed
black coat on. He does n't look much like the
little pickaninny that b'long to Mar-s' Nat back
in wah times."
  "And Jintsey's dead, poah thing! " exclaimed
Aunt Susan. "d What a day it would have been
for her, if she could have lived to see her boy
in the pulpit ! "
  Conversation never kept on a straight road
when these three were together. It was con-
tinually turning back by countless by-paths to
the old slavery days. The rule of their master,
Nat Chadwick, had been an easy one. There
had always been plenty in the smoke-house and
contentment in the quarters. These simple old
souls, while rejoicing in their freedom, often
looked tenderly back to the flesh-pots of their
early Egypt.
  John Jay had heard these reminiscences

 


OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



dozens of times. He knew just what was
coming next, when Uncle Billy began telling
about the day that young Mars' Nat was
christened. Mis' Alice gave a silver cup to
Jintsey's baby, George Washington, because
he was born on the same day as his little
Mars' Nat. John Jay knew the whole family
history. He was very proud of these people
of gentle birth and breeding, whom Sheba spoke
of as " ou' family." One by one they had been
carried to the little Episcopal churchyard on
the hill, until only one remained. The great
estate had passed into the hands of strangers.
Only to Billy and Susan and Sheba, faithful
even unto death, was it still surrounded by the
halo of its old-time grandeur.
  Naturally, young Nat Chadwick, the last of
the line, had fallen heir to all the love and re-
spect with which they cherished any who bore
the family name. To other people he was a
luckless sort of fellow, who had sowIn his wild
oats early, and met disappointment at every
turn. It was passed about, too, that there was
a romance in his life which had changed and
embittered it. Certain it is, he suddenly seemed
to lose all ambition and energy.  Instead of



I9

 

OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



making the brilliant lawyer his friends expected,
he had come down at last to be the keeper of
the toll-gate on a country turnpike.
  Lying on his pillow in the dense shadow,
John Jay looked out into the white moon-
light, and listened to the old story told all over
again.  But this time there was added the
history of Jintsey's boy, who seemed to have
been born with the ambition hot in his heart
to win an education.    He had done it.
There was a quiver of pride in Uncle Billy's
voice as he told how the boy had outstripped
his young master in the long race; but there
was a loyal and tender undercurrent of excuse
for the unfortunate heir running through all
his talk.
  It had taken twenty years of struggle and
work for the little black boy to realize his
hopes. He had grown to be a grave man of
thirty-three before it was accomplished. Now
he had come home from a Northern college with
his diploma and his degree.
  ",He have fought a good fight," said Uncle
Billy in conclusion, finishing as usual with a
scriptural quotation. " He have fought a good
fight, and he have finished his co'se, but "-



20

 


OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



here his voice sank almost to a whisper - "he
have come home to die."
  A chill seemed to creep all over John Jay's
warm little body. He raised his head from the
pillow to listen still more carefully.
  " Yes, they say he got the gallopin' consump-
tion while he was up Nawth, shovellin' snow an'
such work, an' studyin' nights in a room 'thout
no fiah. He took ole Mars's name an' he have
brought honah upon it, but what good is it
goill' to do him  Tell me that. For when the
leaves go in the autumn time, then Jintsey's
l)oy must go too."
  "XWhere's he stayin' at now" demanded
Manmmy sharply, although she drew the corner
of her apron across her eyes.
  "d He's c1owvn to Mars' Nat's at the toll-gate
cottage  'Peahs like it's the natch'el place for
him to. be. Neithah of 'em's got anybody else,
and it's kind a like old times when they was
chillun, playin' round the big house togethah.
I stopped in to see him yestiddy. The cup
Mis' Alice gave him was a-settin' on the man-
tel, an' Mars' Nat was stewin' up some sawt
of cough tonic for him. The white folks up
Nawth must a thought a heap of him. He'd



2 1

 


OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



just got a lettah from one of the college pro-
fessahs 'quirin' bout his health. Mars' Nat
read out what was on the back of it: 'Rev'und
Gawge W. Chadwick, an' some lettahs on the
end that I kain't remembah. An' he said,
laughin'-like, sezee, 'well, Uncle Billy, you'd
nevah take that as meanin' Jintsey's boy, would
you now    It's a mighty fine soundin' title,'
sezee. Gawge gave a little moanful sawt of
smile, same as to say, well, aftah all, it wasn't
wuth what it cost him. An' it wasn't! No, it
wasn't," repeated Uncle Billy, solemnly shaking
the ashes from his pipe. "d What's the good of
a head full of book learnin' with a poah puny
body that kaint tote it around "
  Somehow, Uncle Billy's solemn declaration,
"he have fought a good fight," associated this
colored preacher, in John Jay's simple little
mind, with soldiers and fierce battles and a
great victory. He lay back on his pillow, wish-
ing they would go on talking about this man
who had suddenly become such a hero in his
boyish eyes. But their talk gradually drifted to
the details of Mrs. Watson's last illness. He
had heard them so many times that he soon felt
his eyelids slowly closing. Then he dozed for



22

 


OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



a few minutes, awakening with a start. They
had gotten as far as the funeral now, and were
discussing the sermon. They would soon be
commenting on the way that each member of the
family " took her death." That was so much
more interesting, he thought he would just
close his eyes again for a moment, until they
came to that.
  Their voices murmured on in a pleasing flow;
his head sunk lower on the pillow, and his
breathing was a little louder. Then his hand
dropped down at his side. He was sound asleep
just when Aunt Susan was about to begin one
of her most thrilling ghost stories.
  In the midst of an account of "a ha'nt that
walked the graveyard every thirteenth Friday
in the year," John Jay turned over in his sleep
with a little snort. Aunt Susan nearly jumped
out of her chair, and Uncle Billy dropped his
pipe. There was a moment of frightened
silence till Mammy said, " It must have been
Bud, I reckon.  John Jay is allus a-knockin'
him in his sleep an' makin' him holler out. Go
on, sis' Susan."
  The moon had travelled well across the sky
vhen Mammy's guests said good night. She



23

 


OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



lingered outside after they had gone, to look far
down the road, where a single point of light,
shining through the trees, marked the toll-gate.
It would not be so lonely for Mars' Nat, nowv
that George had come home. She recalled the
laughing face of the little black boy as she had
known it long ago, and tried to call up in he;
imagination a picture of the man that Uncle
Billy had described.  Visions of the old days
rose before her. As she stood there with her
hands wrapped in her apron, it was not the
moon-flooded night she looked into, but the
warm, living daylight of a golden past.
  At last, with a sigh, she turned to take the
chairs into the house. Lifting the big rocker
high in front of her, she stepped over the thresh-
old and started to shuffle her way along to the
candle shelf. The chair came down in the
middle of the floor with a sudden bang, as she
caught her foot in John Jay's pillow and
sprawled across him.
  The boy's first waking thought was that there
had been an earthquake and that the cabin had
caved in. He never could rightly remember
the order of events that followed, but he had a
confused memory of a shriek, a scratching of



24

 


           OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.           25

matches, and the glimmer of a candle that made
him sit Up and blink his eyes. Then something
struck him, first on one ear, then the other,
cuffing him soundly. He was too dazed to
know why. Some blind instinct helped him to
find the bed and burrow down under the clothes,
where he lay trying to think what possible fault
of his could have raised such a cyclone about
his ears. He was too deep under the bed-
clothes to hear Mammy's grumbling remarks
about his " tawmentin' ways" as she rubbed
her skinned elbow with tallow from the candle.

 










CHAPTER III.



  STANDING in the back door of Sheba's cabin
one could see the red gables of the old Chad-
wick house, rising above the dark pine-trees
that surrounded it. A wealthy city family by
the name of Haven owned it now. It was open
only during the summer months. The roses that
Mistress Alice had set out with her own white
hands years ago climbed all over the front of
the house, twining around its tall pillars, and
hanging down in festoons from its stately eaves.
Cuttings from the same hardy plant had been
trained along the fences, around the tree-trunks
and over trellises, until the place had come to
be known all around the country as " Rose-
haven."
  Sheba always had steady employment when
the place was open, for the young ladies of the
family kept her flat-irons busy with their endless
tucks and ruffles. She found a good market,
too, for all the eggs she could induce her buff
                     z6

 



OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.



cochins to lay, and all the berries that she could
make John Jay pick.
  This bright June morning she stood in the
door with a basket of fresh eggs in her hand,
looking anxiously across the fields to the gables
of Rosehaven, and grumbling to herself.
  " Heah I done promise Miss Hallie these
fresh aigs for her bufday cake, an' no way to
get 'em to her. I'll nevah get all these clothes
done up by night if I stop my i'onin', an' John
Jay's done lit out again ! little black rascal !"
She lifted up her voice in another wavering call.
",John Ja-a-y! "  The beech woods opposite
threw back the echo of her voice, sweet and
clear,- "Ja-a-y ! "
  "1 Heah I come, Mammy! " cried a panting
voice. ' I was jus' turnin' the grine-stone for
Uncle Billy."
  She looked at him suspiciously an instant,
then handed him the basket. "Take these
aigs ovah to Miss Hallie," she ordered, "and
mind you be quickah'n you w.is last time, or
they might hatch befo' you get there."
  " Law now, Mammy! " said John Jay, with a
grin. He snatched at the basket, impatient to
be off, for while standing before her he had



27

 



OLE MAMMY"S TORMENT.



kept scratching his right shoulder with his left
hand; not that there was any need to do so,
but it gave him an excuse for holding together
the jagged edges of a great tear in his new
shirt. He was afraid it might be discovered
before he could get away.
  It was one of John Jay's peculiarities that in