“Hyar! I ’low we’s goin’ soufard when we gits from dis yer, you Jim,” sniffed “Rose Moncton,” her face up to the sunshine.
Poor Jim looked care-worn. I dare say my face was tolerably sympathetic. It felt so, at least.
“Mistis,” the fellow said, “she’s kep us tackin’ souf an’ norf, souf an’ norf, all dis yer week, or we’d been somewhars. She don’t like de looks of no town yet. We’s slep’ roun’ in sheds six weeks now. I gits sawin’ an’ choppin’, an’ sich, to do once a day, while dey warms up in de sun, an’ eats a bite. Den up we gits, an’ tromps on. We’s got on so fur, but Rose ain’t clar at all yit whar we’ll stop. Mistis, whar is de warmest place you knows on?”
I thought better and better of myself as the heavy-faced fellow thus appealed to me. I felt flattered by his confidence in me. I always feel flattered when a strange kitty follows me, or the birdies hop near for my crumbs. But I will confess that no human vagabond had ever before so skillfully touched the soft place in my heart. Poor, dusky wanderer! he looked so hungry, he looked so worn-out, too, as a head of a family will when the other head pulls the other way.
“Well, Jim, the warmest place I know of is in my kitchen. I left a rousing fire there ten minutes ago. You all stay here until I come back, which will be in about seven minutes; then you shall go home with me, and I will give you a good hot dinner. You may stay all night, if you like, and perhaps I can advise you. You will be rested, at the least, for a fresh start.”
Rose Moncton lifted her listless head, and looked in my face. “Laws!” said she. “Laws!” said she again.
Jim pulled his forelock to me, vailed the flash in his warm umbery eyes with a timely wink of the heavy lids. He composed himself at once into a waiting attitude.
I heard another “Laws!” as I hastened away. “That young mistis is done crazy. She’ll nebber kim back hyar, ’pend on dat!” Such was Rose’s opinion of me.
I opened my ears for Jim’s. But Jim made no reply.
Father and mother had gone out of town for two days. Our hired girl had left. I really was “mistis” of the premises. If I chose to gather in a circle of shivering little “niggas” around my kitchen stove, and heat that stove red-hot, there was nobody to say I better not.