She laid a cloth upon which she arranged her own best service, with cold ham, fried chicken, fresh butter, Maryland biscuits, and, lastly, a pot of fragrant imperial.
While Leo was out in the stable attending to his horses, the mother and daughter sat down to the table together.
“Now what sort of a home is this here you’ve got here, gal, where the marser is allus gone and the missus allus grievin’ day in and day out?”
“Well, mammy, you know as one follows the other; and if the master’s always gone the mist’ess is likely to be always grieving, if so be she cares for him, which our mist’ess do.”
“What’s he gone so much for? It looks bad.”
“So it do, mammy, which it is bad too.”
“But what’s he gone for?”
“He say business—let me see—connected—yes, that’s it—with his late father’s will.”
“Um hum; allus some excuse with them men. To begin so airly, too; ‘fore he’s married a year. Lor’, I thought you was agoing to have such a happy home, living fellow sarvint with your own dear brother, long of a young married pair with the highest of wages, and no ’sideration but to live quiet and keep away company. But, deary me! who can count on anything? Well, gal, I’m glad to get leave to come to see you at last. But what can I do for you? That boy, Leo, I couldn’t get nothink out’n him, ’cept ’twas the marser was allus gone and the missus was allus grievin’, and you wanted me to come and nuss her.”
“Yes, mammy, that was it. And I hope you can stop now you are here.”