A FLAW IN THE “EENDITEMENT”
She came into the office of a Walterboro lawyer and engaged his services to reverse, upset and “spile” the decision of a trial justice who had just fined her “nine dolluh’ en’ de cawss’, suh,” for obstructing a public highway.
Grace Rivers was her “eentitlement.” The color of her skin was so deep that a piece of charcoal drawn across her face would have left a pallid mark. Although literally on the “shady side” of seventy, she was not regardless of the advantages of dress, and her costume was, like Katisha’s left elbow, worth “coming miles to see.” The gray wool that covered her head was snarled and tangled like a burry merino pelt, but a man’s black straw hat, battered and weather-stained, was set upon it as jauntily as was ever worn the rakish cap of Fra Diavolo! When a fashion-plate had last been seen in her habitat near Ion’s Cross Roads, bustles were “the thing.” Although these protuberances on the human form divine had long since been called in and relegated to the rear (?) they were still “the thing” for Grace. The balloon bustle of the society actress, the oscillating bustle, the coiled-spring variety that rebelled at being sat upon, and, when “crushed to earth,” like truth, would “rise again,” having passed away, were not now obtainable at the country stores; so the ingenuity of this dusky devotee of fashion was called into play, and she had constructed as unique a “dress improver” as was ever worn under the sun—or under a homespun skirt, either, for that matter. A rift in the rear of her gown disclosed the mechanism of this work of art, which was merely a piece of an iron barrel hoop, bent into a half-elipse, and wound with two or three thicknesses of cotton bagging. Primitive as it was, it sufficed to elevate the hind part of her skirt several inches above the level of the lower periphery of the front breadth, which was hidden by an apron made of a rough-dried guano sack, on which appeared in bold stenciled letters, “Ashepoo Acid Phosphate, 200 pounds—privilege tax paid.”
Taking a seat in the counsellor’s office, she said: “Majuh, I come fuh git jestuss yuh teday, teday! W’en my juntlemun, Mistuh Ribbuhs, dead yeah befo’ las’, een Augus’ munt’ (en’ ’e dead ’cause snake structid’um on ’e lef’ han’ feet w’en ’e binnuh gwine to praise meetin’ to Sistuh Gibbes’ house on Hawss Shoe causeway) w’en him dead, ’e lef’ me t’irty acre’ lan’ w’ich ’e buy frum Cap’n Gracy befo’ ’e dead. Now, w’en my juntlemun binnuh lib, Cudjo Singletun en’ ’e fambly buy a piece uh groun’ close to weh we lib, en’ likeso Sambo Hawlback buy groun’ eenjinin’ de same lan’. ’Long ez my juntlemun binnuh lib, dem berry well sattify fuh trabble ’longside de aige uh my groun’ w’en dem duh gwine chu’ch, eeduhso to de sto’, but soon ez my juntlemun dead, de eegnunt nigguh’ git so swell’up en’ ’laagin’, dem come en’ cut paat’ t’ru my pinelan’, en’ call’um pulblic road. W’en I see de ’ceitfulness’ en’ de ondeestunt gwinin’ en’ gwinin’ uh dese nomannus nigguh’, I git disgus’ wid de nigguh’, en’ I mek a fench ’cross de road, ’tell de road couldn’ specify. Now, w’en Sunday night come, Sambo tek ’e lady een ’e oxin cyaa’t, en’ staa’t lukkuh him duh gwine chu’ch, but ’e nebbuh git to chu’ch, suh, ’cause ’e oxin ent gots good eye duh night time, en’ de oxin git tanglety’up een de fench, befo’ Sambo ruckuhnize weh ’e duh gwine, en’ de oxin t’row Sambo’ lady out’n de cyaa’t, en’ de lady fuhgit de ’lij’un w’at ’e staa’t fuh tek to chu’ch, en’ ’e git bex, en’ Sambo git bex, en, fin’lly at las’, dem didn’ gone chu’ch, but dem tu’n back home, en’ nex’ mawnin’ Sambo gone to de Trial Jestuss en’ swayre out warrant fuh ’res’ me en’ my groun’ fuh twis’up en’ obstruck de pulblic highway, en’ de Jestuss sen’ a mufflejaw’ nigguh counstubble to my house, en’ him tek me off befo’ I gitt’uh chance eb’nso fuh pit on me shoesh, en’ I tell’um dat ’e yent deestunt, no, suh, fuh ’res’ a lady en’ tek’um to co’t, bidout ’e shoesh ’puntop ’e foot, but dat counstubble raise’ by po’ buckruh en’ ’e yent gots uh Chryce’ mannus to ’e name!”
“Well,” said the attorney, when he had stemmed this torrent of speech, “did you tell him that you were not ready for trial; that you wished time to secure counsel and to summon witnesses to testify in your behalf?”
“I baig’um, I tell’um, ‘Mistuh Awkuhmun, I want to quizzit you on dis p’int, how de debble you kin ’res’ a lady fuh obstruck uh highway, w’en you know berrywell de road w’ich de nigguh’ mek t’ru my lan’, run t’ru low groun’! How, een de name uh Gawd, kin I eentuhfayre wid de pulblic highway w’en de road so low dat ’e full uh watuh ’tell limus cootuh en’ t’ing duh swim een’um! No, suh! ’scusin’ you kin ansuh me dat parable, yo’ eenditement cyan’ specify’.”
“What was his reply,” asked the lawyer.
“’E didn’ reply nutt’n’, suh. ’E jis’ tell me I gots fuh specify wid nine dolluh’ en’ de cawss’, ’scusin’ I want’uh leddown een Walterburruh jail ontell de t’ree Sat’d’y een June. I didn’ gots no money fuh g’em, so I g’em mawgidge on my cow en’ t’ing ’tell I kin come yuh to you, suh, en’ git you fuh see me t’ru, ’cause dis ondelicate buckruh ’res’ me’, en’ try me en’ all, een one en’ de same day. ’E wouldn’ eb’n gimme time fuh go home en’ reconstruck meself, en’, please suh, Majuh, w’en my juntlemun dead, ’e tell me fuh fin’ out w’at you will chaa’ge me fuh tek care uh me en’ my cow en’ my groun’ en’ t’ing by de yeah—eb’n so ef I duh sleep—I want you fuh see how much you will chaa’ge fuh keep nigguh, en’ counstubble, en’ po’buckruh en’ all kind’uh waa’ment en’ t’ing off my groun’, ’tell I dead, suh.”
The lawyer told her he would consider the matter, and, Ashepoo’s “Nada, the Lily,” with a curtsy to the stranger within the attorney’s gate, drifted out into the brilliant sunlight that lay like a golden mantle on field and woodland.