Now she did all this out of sheer love for Fannie, and because she had been kind to her in her mother's house, and never put on airs and ordered her about, as some children do.
By and by, Miss Fannie took it into her head to get engaged to be married.
Chloe didn't half like it;—she was jealous. She was "afraid Massa Hale wouldn't make a good husband enough. Miss Fannie ought to have a very nice one, because she was such a fine young lady;" and Chloe shook her woolly head, till her gold hoop ear-rings rung again, and advised Miss Fannie to "wait a leetle longer." "Time enough yet, when she was only eighteen, plenty more gemmen; no hurry yet for Miss Fannie."
But Fannie had her own way that time, too, and married "Massa Hale;" and when Chloe found there was no help for it, she said she would go and be her cook, "just to look after the dear child a bit, and see that she had everything she wanted," and that nothing was wasted.
You ought to have seen her in "Miss Fannie's" kitchen, (for she still kept on calling her Miss Fannie;) with her gay bandanna handkerchief twisted round her wool, and her neat check apron tied round her waist, moving round among the shining pots, and pans, and kettles, as important as if she were the great Mogul; turning out pies and hoe cakes, and flap-jacks, (and every other Jack, too, for Chloe had no beaux dangling after her, I promise you.)
If "Miss Fannie" put her head into the kitchen, she'd tell her it was no place for her,—to go right up stairs, and sit in the parlor like a lady, and not be worrying her little head about the cooking and such matters; that she'd send up a dinner pretty soon that would make Massa Hale open his eyes; and she didn't care if he brought the President home with him to dine!
Chloe was scrupulously honest;—she took care of everything just as carefully as "Miss Fannie"—never wasting, never giving slily away tea or sugar, or bread, or meat, or coal, to her acquaintances, as I'm sorry to say many unprincipled servants do.
So "Massa Hale" began to like her, as well as "Miss Fannie," and many a nice calico dress, or handkerchief turban, found its way mysteriously into Chloe's trunk.
After a while, Chloe had another Miss Fannie to look after. Was there ever a baby like that? Certainly not—except the original Miss Fannie. Chloe forgot her pots, and pans, and pickles, and preserves, and hoe-cakes; and said that "somebody else must do the cooking, or else that baby never would thrive; for what did Miss Fannie know about babies, she would like to know?"
So Chloe washed her hands, and walked up into the nursery, and when she said that little Fan must have some peppermint, she had it; and when she objected to its wearing caps, they were taken off; and when she said it was time for her to go to sleep, she went to sleep, as a matter of course.