Instantly all Mammy’s sympathies were aroused. Gathering the weary head in her arms she stroked back the hair with her work-hardened hand, as she said in the same tender tones she had used to soothe her baby more than forty years ago:
“Dere, dere, honey, don’ yo’ fret; don’ yo’ fret. Tell Mammy jist what’s pesterin’ yo’ an’ she’ll mak’ it all right fer her baby. Hush! Hush. Mammy can tek keer of anythin’.”
“Oh, Mammy dear, dear old Mammy, you take care of so much as it is. What would we do without you?”
“Hush yo’ talk chile! What I gwine do widout yo’ all? Dat talk all foolishness. Don’t I b’long ter de fambly? Now yo’ mind yo’ Mammy an’ tell her right off what’s a frettin’ yo’ dis day. Yo’ heah me?”
Mammy’s voice was full of forty-five years of authority, but her eyes were full of sympathetic tears, for her love for her “Miss Jinny” was beyond the expression of words.
“O Mammy, I am so foolish, and I fear so pitifully weak when it comes to conducting my business affairs wisely. You can’t understand these vexatious business matters which I must attend to, but I sorely miss Mr. Carruth when they arise and must be met.”
“Huccum I cyan’t understand ’em? What Massa Bernard done tackle in his business dat I cyan’t ef yo’ kin? Tell me dis minute just what you’ gotter do, an’ I bate yo’ ten dollars I c’n do it.”
“I know there isn’t anything you would not try to do, Mammy, from taking care of an old horse, to moving the contents of the entire house if it became necessary,” replied Mrs. Carruth, smiling in spite of herself, as she wiped her eyes, little realizing how near the truth was her concluding remark regarding Mammy’s prowess.
“I reckon I c’d move de hull house if I had time enough, an’ as fer de horse—huh! ain’t he stanin’ dere a livin’ tes’imony of what a bran-smash an’ elbow-grease kin do? ’Pears lak his hairs rise right up an’ call me bres-sed, dey’s tekin’ ter shinin’ so sense I done rub my hans ober ’em,” and Mammy, true to her racial characteristics, broke into a hearty laugh; so close together lies the capacity for joy or sorrow in this child race. The next instant, however, Mammy was all seriousness as she demanded:
“Now I want yo’ ter tell me all ’bout dis bisness flummy-diddle what’s frettin’ yo’. Come now; out wid it, quick.”