A Woman Rice Planter

by Elizabeth W. Allston Pringle

Monday.

After all the agitation of Gibbie's disappearance by night, he has returned and entreated me to forgive him, and greatly to Chloe's disgust I have done so and he is back in the stable and I am thankful to have him there.

Tuesday.

As it is impossible for me to stand driving Marietta on foot, I had Gibbie lead her, sitting behind the buckboard, in which I drove her mother. It is absolutely important that she should go out on the public road every day and get accustomed to the sights—to-day I tried the experiment. She went well until I took up the whip, and then she drew back and Gibbie had to get off. I drove on slowly, and fortunately it happened, for just before I reached the bridge I met a white-covered wagon—those country wagons, which, seen so often in the mountains, are rare here, and Ruth was very much frightened by it and would not pass.

If a young man who was sitting by the driver had not got out and led her past I do not know what would have happened. I drove on over the bridge and then back to find what had become of Gibbie and Marietta. I found them still fighting, but after a little patting and talking to, Marietta allowed him to sit on the buckboard and lead her. I went about eight miles, and I hope after this I will have no trouble.

January 11.

Drove Ruth again with Gibbie sitting on back of buckboard leading Marietta. She fought a little about turning down the road, but went ten miles after that at a good rapid pace and gave no trouble, so that I was greatly surprised this evening when Gibbie asked for a few words and said: "I do' wan' to hab' no'tin' mo' fur do wid de colt. I weary wid 'um, en I do' wan' you for call me no mo'. I discouridge 'bout 'um."

I laughed at him about it, but I found he was in earnest and that there was something I did not understand. I said, "You know the colt does not like Dab, and she likes and knows you. When I got Jim to handle her for the month he was here, I would have liked him to take Dab with him to drive Marietta, but he said Dab was not quick enough, and she did not know him—she knows you because you feed her. Now, are you willing for me to go out with only Dab to help me with her?" He only mumbled something about being "discouridge," and I let him go.

January 12.

It is a perfect spring day; it is hard to believe we have two months of winter yet. Of course I could not give up taking Marietta out because of Gibbie's whim, so I ordered the buckboard with Ruth, and Marietta with halter to lead behind as usual, and seeing by his stolid, sulky expression that Gibbie had not changed his mind I called Dab to lead Marietta. We got off better than I had expected, Gibbie looking on with a Mephisto expression. Things went very well until we had gone about half a mile, when an old mammy with a shining tin bucket in her hand came out of a side road. She made me a deep curtsy and went on, I supposed, when I heard her exclaim, "My lawd, 'e git 'way," and looking back I saw Marietta flying down the road, with the long halter twisting about and Dab in hot pursuit. What was I to do? Ruth will not stand. I got out and took the halter and laboriously sought a tree which would suit by the roadside and tied her. Then I flew down the road, calling to Dab to come back and not pursue the colt. At last he heard, and I sent him to stand by Ruth and I walked rapidly after Marietta. She was out of sight, but at last I came to the place where she was grazing by the road. When she first saw me she moved off, but I stood still and called her to me with many blandishments and promises, and she came quietly up to me, let me take the halter and lead her back to where the buckboard waited.