Both the little negroes had been ill of scarlet fever. The children of the household had not been allowed for weeks to come home for their Saturday holidays. Martha fell ill first, and Mary was removed into the room formerly occupied by Levi Stucker, where she soon fell a victim to the disease. The mistress and Charlotte only were allowed to minister to the invalids. Mary, the robust one of the two, the more mischievous, the one apparently better equipped for a struggle with disease, succumbed, after a few days of delirium. The busy hands were stilled, the flying feet arrested, the voluble tongue silenced, at the touch of the Angel of Death. The little body was carried past the “quarters” and beyond, to the negroes’ “burying ground,” where it lay in peaceful shadows of the trees the romping children loved so well. Martha lingered long on the mysterious border, fitfully fighting an apparently hopeless battle, the more tenderly and faithfully nursed by Mammy Charlotte, as the warm-hearted, childless woman realized the frail tenure of life held by the little negro whom she had ruled in varying moods of sternness and tenderness, untempered with judgment. With the fretful peevishness of convalescence, the sick child whined repeated desires to know “Whar Ma’y Ann?”
“What is it you want to tell Mary Ann to-day, when she is not here? Can’t you tell me?” said the patient watcher.
“I jist want ter see her; I’se gwine ter tell you ’bout dat bonnet, Miss Liza, and she ain’t here, and I mout die; sometimes folkses dies of broke laigs, and my laigs is broke. I want Ma’y Ann ter know I ain’t goin’ outen dis world wid dat bonnet on my soul.”
The mistress drew closer to the bedside, stroked and patted the attenuated hand in a soothing way to quiet and compose the restless invalid.
“Maybe it’s jist as good Ma’y Ann ain’t here, Miss Liza. I kin tell de tale better’n when she is here to jine in.” After a pause, apparently to marshal her thoughts more clearly, the child proceeded: “Dat time Miss Ellen cum here, she tuk outen her trunk a red bonnet, and she sed she had two on ’em jist alike, dat her chillen had wore out, and she fotched ’em fur me and Ma’y Ann. I was in dar and seed de bonnet, and you tuk hit, don’t you ’member, Miss Liza? You tuk hit and sed no, Ma’y Ann and me had no use fur bonnets, and you know’d two pore little white gals at your church dat didn’t have none, and you was goin’ ter give ’em to dem. I went out and tole Ma’y Ann all ’bout hit, and she ’low’d if we had bonnets we cud go to church too. Well, we talked tergedder ’bout dose bonnets, and we plan we’d take ’em ennyhow, fust time we seed ’em. Well, one night Ma’y Ann runned right in here, in dat very door. I was in here den. I shet de door and stood against it, and onder her apern she had de bonnet. She didn’t find only one, but she grabbed dat. I tole her dat was the bery one Miss Ellen took outen her trunk, and me and Ma’y Ann, we tried it on our haids, ’fore dat bery piece o’ lookin’ glass stickin’ on de wall dere, and we ’greed ter watch till we kotch de udder one, so we hid it in dat trunk dar, behind you, Miss Liza, and ev’ry day we tried hit on. I want ter tell you all ’bout hit ’fore Ma’y Ann gits back frum de quarters. I dun know how long we kep’ hit in dat trunk, ontil one day dere was a awful fuss, eberybody skeered up, lookin’ fur your bonnet, dat was missin’. Me and Ma’y Ann was glad. We couldn’t find one of our bonnets now your’n wuz gone, too.”
“Didn’t you know you had taken my bonnet?” said the mistress, who was at last seeing through the mystery.
“Jist let me tell you de whole thing, Miss Liza. I bin layin’ here long time thinkin’ de straight uv hit, so Ma’y Ann can’t bodder me when I telled it to you. Ma’y Ann is dat sondacious she most make you b’lieve anythin’. No, Miss Liza, we never thought dat till one day I hear Miss Ellen say how nice dem red bonnets she brung did look on de Quiggins gals at church. Den Marm Charlotte, she begun agin ’bout your bonnet bein’ missed and she searchin’ fur hit all de time, and I hear her tell Sawny it wuz red and had black flowers on hit. Me and Ma’y Ann took de bonnet outen de trunk dat night and dere wuz de black flowers, jist like she sed, den we know’d you had give Miss Ellen’s bonnets to the Quigginses, and Ma’y Ann had stole your’n. We hefted dis baid and put de bonnet under hit, and, please Gord, Miss Liza, I neber seed dat bonnet agin till Marse Jim shuck hit at us dat day.”
“Why didn’t you come tell me what you had done, and why you had done it, when you first found it out?”
“Miss Liza, we was afeerd. Marm Charlotte kep’ sayin’ whoever had dat bonnet wud be hung, and de odder negroes talked back. Thank de Lord, dey never seed hit, so Ma’y Ann and me didn’t dar let on.”
“Didn’t you expect it would be found out some day?”