“No, Missie Berry. I knows jes’ whar dat bag is. Yas’m, I’se got it hid up safe,” Lily responded with her usual nods and chuckles. “I’se got all de feathers I wants,” she added.
“Well, you must have nearly enough to stuff a pillow,” Berry declared, wishing that Lily would tell her what she intended to do with the treasured feathers, but Lily only repeated:
“Yas’m,” and Berry went on with her work. Lily immediately vanished, and did not again appear until it was time for her to help with the midday meal.
“I do wonder where Lily goes, and what she is up to,” Berry confided to her mother. “Every day she suddenly disappears and is gone for an hour or two. She always comes back looking as well pleased with herself as if she had just discovered a pot of gold.”
“Why do you not ask her where she goes?” questioned Mrs. Arnold. “Very likely she only goes off by herself for a nap, for she is up very early each morning.”
“I have asked her,” Berry responded, “and she just chuckles and nods and says that she hasn’t been anywhere. ‘Jes’ kinder perspectin’ ’roun’’; that’s what she says, Mother.” And Mrs. Arnold smiled at Berry’s imitation of Lily’s voice and manner. But it was only a few days after this when Berry, coming into the sitting-room, discovered Lily peeping out from Berry’s chamber.
“Lily! What are you doing in my room?” she called sharply, and the surprised Lily gazed at her a little fearfully.
“I jes’ stepped in to take yo’ somefin’. Somefin’ ter s’prise yo’,” she finally found courage to say, for Berry did not usually speak in so sharp a tone, and Lily was sure that she herself was to blame. “I wasn’t lookin’ fer yo’, Missie,” she went on, as if to excuse herself for some fault, but Berry pushed past the negro girl and entered her chamber. Her quick glance went straight to the dainty dressing-table and with an admiring exclamation she ran across the room and stood looking eagerly at the prettiest basket she had ever seen. It was shaped like a shallow bowl, and at the first glance Berry thought it was made entirely of feathers, but the feathers were only skilfully woven in broad bands through the sweet-grass that formed the warp of the basket. The woof was of the fragrant cedar roots; these Lily had split and polished until they shone like silver bands.
It was indeed a beautiful piece of work, and Lily’s “surprise” was a great success. The negro girl had never before been so praised and thanked, and when Mr. and Mrs. Arnold were called to come and admire “Lily’s basket,” and when they also said that it was the finest basket they had ever seen, Lily was as happy as it was possible for a girl to be.
“Who taught you, Lily?” questioned Mrs. Arnold, and Lily told of the old negroes at the plantation from which she had fled, who were expert basket makers.