“Don’t say it, Miss Ann! We won’t never be called on ter depart from Buck Hill ’til we’s good an’ ready—not whilst Marse Bob Bucknor’s prodigy is livin’, an’ Mr. Jeff the spitin’ image of his gran’dad. I’s sho Miss Milly done put you in this pretty lil’ room kase she thought you’d like it, bein’ so handy to the stairs an’ all, an’ the windy right over the baid so’s you kin lay an ’look out at the trees an’ flowers—an’ if there ain’t a wishteria vine a comin’ in the casement an’ twinin’ aroun’ jes’ like a pixture. I tell you Miss Ann, this here room becomes you powerful much. I wonder they ain’t never give it ter you befo’. It’s a heap mo’ homey like than the gues’ chamber an’ I’m thinkin’ it’s agonter be quieter an’ cooler an’ much mo’ habitationable.”
“Yes, Billy, I’m sure it will be.” There was a plaintive suggestion of tears in her voice.
“Now, Miss Ann, you git in yo’ wropper an’ lay down a spell an’ I’m gonter fotch you a cup er tea. You’s plum tuckered out what with sech a early start an’ mo’n likely no sleep las’ night. 60 You ain’t called on ter be a botherin’ yo’ little haid ’bout nothin’. Jes’ you res’ yo’se’f an’ after you rests you kin come down on the po’ch an’ git the air.”
If he had been a mammy coaxing a child Billy’s tone could not have been more gentle or loving. He busied himself unstrapping the trunks and valises and then hurried off for the cup of tea, declaring he would be back in a moment although he well knew that a trial of will with Aunt Em’ly lay before him. Tea and toast he determined to have for his mistress—if over the cook’s dead body. Aunt Em’ly was queen of the kitchen and nothing irritated her more than having extra food to prepare.
“Let ’em eat they victuals when they’s served, three times a day without no stint or savin’ an’ not be peckin’ in between times,” she hurled at poor old Billy when he meekly demanded a tray for the hall bedroom.
“I’ll fix it myself, Sis Em’ly, an’ I won’t make a mite er dirt. Miss Ann air plum flabbergasted what with sech a long trip an’ no breakfas’.”
“I thought you done boas’ you et at a hotel,” sniffed the old woman. “How come she air hongry fer tea an’ toas’ if she done et at a hotel.”
“Sho—sho—but you see it done got jolted 61 down an’ Miss Ann—Please, Sis Em’ly. I ain’t a arskin’ nothin’ fer myse’f, but jes’ for my Miss Ann. You done won out consarnin’ gues’ chambers an’ hall bedrooms so you mought be willin’ ter give a po’ tired lady a cup er tea.”
Aunt Em’ly was really a very kind person, but there was something about old Billy’s long beard tied up in innumerable plaits, his bow legs and general air of superiority, that had always irritated her. For years she had been held in the subjection of politeness by this unwelcome guest by the attitude of her white people to his mistress, but now the barriers were down and Mrs. Bucknor had openly expressed her impatience at this too-frequent visitor and had been persuaded by her daughters to give Miss Ann the hall room, no longer need she assume cordiality to the old servant. Of course she intended to make the tea for Miss Ann but she also intended to be as disagreeable as possible while the kettle boiled.
The old man sat meekly in the corner of the kitchen, watching Aunt Em’ly while she scalded the small Rebecca pot and measured out the tea. He was glad to see that she put in an extra spoonful as that meant that he too might find some much-needed refreshment. She made quite a stack of toast and buttered it generously, 62 although all the time she grumbled and frowned.