“Oh, Marse Bob—I mean Marse Jeff—you air lif’ a load from a ol’ man’s heart. Yo’ gran’pap air sho’ come ter life agin in his prodigy. Nothin’ ain’t gonter make much diffunce ter me arfter this. I been a thinkin’ some er my burdins wa’ mo’ than I kin bear, but ’tain’t so. My back air done fitted ter them, kase you done eased me er my load.” The old man wept, great tears running down his furrowed brown cheeks and glistening on his long, grotesque beard.
CHAPTER XIII
The Debut Party
Everything was propitious for the debut party, even the weather. A brisk shower in the morning, followed by refreshing breezes, gave assurance of a night not too hot for dancing but not too cool for couples so inclined to sit out on the balcony and enjoy the moonlight.
The ten old men were very much excited as the time approached for their ball. The skating rink was swept and garnished and decorated with bunting and flags, and wreaths of immortelles rented from the undertaker. Extra chairs were also furnished by that accommodating person. The caterer from Louisville came in a truck, bringing with him stylish negro waiters and many freezers and hampers. The musicians arrived on the seven o’clock trolley, almost filling one car with their great drums and saxophones and bass fiddles.
The women who were either supported by, or supported, the ten old men were kept busy by their aged relatives hunting shirt studs and 145 collar buttons, pressing broadcloth trousers, letting out waistcoats or taking them up, sewing on buttons and laundering white ties. The barber had to call in extra help, because of the trimming of beards and shaving of chins and cutting of hair that the party entailed.
Judge Middleton was chosen to make the speech naming the guest of honor for whom the debut party was given.
“He’s got the gift of gab,” Pete Barnes had said, “but I hope he ain’t gonter forget ’twas my idee.”