CHAPTER III
JUST then Emma came to the door. Emma was the Osbornes’ old servant, brown and plump as one of her own baked apple dumplings, and as much a part of the family as the tall clock in “the chamber.�
“Supper is ready, Miss M’randa, an’ you-all come right away, please’m,� she said. “De muffins is light as a feather. Come on an’ butter ’em. If you-all will live on corn bread, please’m eat it hot.�
“Poor Emma!� laughed Mrs. Osborne. “She cannot reconcile herself to our food program.�
“I tell Emma ’bout the Belgians,� complained Sweet William. “But she says ‘them folks is too far off for her to bother ’bout; corn bread don’t set good on her stomach; and she’s going to eat what she likes, long as she can get it.’ And, mother, she has light bread and hot biscuits for herself every day, and—�
“Sh-sh, son boy!� said Mrs. Osborne. “Emma doesn’t know any better, and we do. Come, Mayo, and Mayo. Come to the hot corn muffins!�
“I ought to go home,� said Black Mayo. “Polly’ll be expecting me.�
“Indeed she will not,� said Mrs. Osborne. “Polly never expects you till she sees you coming in the gate. How is she, and how are your pigeons? I understand they are a part of your family now. Of course you’ll stay to supper, Mayo. Patsy, tell Emma to put another plate on the table.�
A visit from their Cousin Mayo, always a delight, was now especially welcome to Dick because it postponed, perhaps prevented, a disagreeable interview with his father. He slipped to his place and quietly devoted himself to the hot muffins, cold ham, and damson preserves.
“Why, Dick! What have you done to your face?� asked his mother.