“No, honey, that there rooster don’t never crow for ’vited comp’ny. Now if I had er wrang his neck he’d ’a’ been in the pot, comp’ny or no, an’ it ’ud cure him of any mo’ reckless crowin’.” 23
“But, Aunt Em’ly, what do you think about putting Miss Ann in the hall room?”
“Think! I think she’ll git her back up an’ that ol’ Billy’ll be shootin’ off his mouf, but we-all done entertained Miss Ann an’ ol’ Billy an’ them ca’ige hosses goin’ onter three months already this year an’ it’s high time some er the res’ of the fambly step up. What’s the matter with Marse Big Josh? An’ if he air onable what’s the matter with Marse Lil Josh? Yassum, put her in the hall room an’ ’fo’ Gawd I’ll make that ol’ Billy keep his feet out’n the oven, if not this summer, nex’ winter. He’s the orneris’ nigger fer wantin’ ter sit with his feet in the oven.”
“Then, Mother, may we keep the guest chamber for the girls? Please say yes!” begged Nan. “Aunt Em’ly thinks it is all right and you know you have always been telling us to mind Aunt Em’ly because she has such good judgment.”
“Well, my jedgment air that Miss Ann oughter been occupewin’ the hall room for some fifty year or mo’, ever sence she an’ that ol’ Billy took ter comin’ so reg’lar,” said Aunt Em’ly. “If I had it ter do over I’d never ’a’ let him git so free with his feet in the oven. The truf er the matter is, Miss Milly, that you an’ Marse Bob Bucknor an’ all yo’ chilluns as well, long 24 with all the res’ of the fambly includin’ of Marse Big Josh an’ Marse Lil Josh, done accepted of Miss Ann Peyton an’ ol’ Billy an’ the ca’ige hosses like they wa’ the will of the Almighty. Well, now le’s see if Miss Ann Peyton can’t accept the hall room like it wa’ the will er the Almighty an’ if ol’ Billy can’t come ter some ’clusion that Gawd air aginst his dryin’ out his ol’ feet in my oven.”
While this discussion was going on, the cloud of limestone dust had disappeared and from it had emerged a quaint old coach, lumbering and shabby, drawn by a pair of sleek sorrel horses, whose teeth would have given evidence of advanced age had a possible purchaser submitted them to the indignity of examining them. Their progress was slow and sedate, although the driver handled the reins as though it were with difficulty that he restrained them from prancing and cavorting as they neared the mansion.
Old Billy’s every line, from his dented top hat to his well-nigh soleless boots, expressed dignity and superiority. He was quite sure that being coachman to Miss Ann Peyton gave him the right to wipe those worn boots on the rest of mankind.
“Look at that ol’ fool nigger!” exclaimed Aunt Em’ly in disgust. “Settin’ up there 25 lookin’ mo’ like a monkey than a man in that long-tail blue coat with brass buttons an’ his ha’r like cotton wool an’ whiskers so long he haster wrop ’em. The onlies wuck that nigger ever does is jes’ growin’ whiskers.”
“Oh, come now, Aunt Em’ly,” remonstrated a young man who stepped from the study window on the porch as the old coach lumbered up the driveway, “Uncle Billy keeps his horses in better condition than any on our farm are kept. Poor old Uncle Billy!”
“Poor old Uncle Billy, indeed!” snapped Mildred. “I reckon, Brother Jeff, you’d say poor old Cousin Ann, too.”