“I’ve been out to the Irving School selling your old candy, and your cousins-in-the-Lord, over in South Riveredge, can wait a while for some. You and Connie thought you could fool me with your old talk but you couldn’t; I found out all about it. She makes it and you sell it, and now I’ve sold it—yes every single package—and there’s your money; I don’t want it, but I’ve proved that I can help mother, so there now!” and, figuratively speaking, Jean hurled at Mammy’s feet the gauntlet, in the shape of her handkerchief, in which she had carefully tied the proceeds of her morning’s sale, a no mean sum, by the way. Then, bounding out of the old phaeton, tore up the hill like a small whirlwind, leaving Mammy and the Professor to stare after her open-mouthed. The latter was the first to recover his speech.
“Well, really! Quite vehement! Good deal of force in a small body.”
“Fo’ce! Well yo’ ain’ know dat chile ten years lak I is. She cl’ar break loose some times, an’ dis hyre’s one ob ’em. But I ’spicioned dat she’s done teken dat box o’ candy. Minit my back turned out she fly wid it. An’ sell hit, too? What yo’ know ’bout it, sar? Is yo’ see her?”
“I certainly did, and I haven’t seen such a sight in some time. She’s a good bit of a metaphysician into the bargain,” and in a few words Professor Forbes told of the morning’s business venture, and the lively experiences of the young merchant, Mammy listening attentively, only now and again uttering an expressive “Um-m! Uh-h!” When he had finished she looked at him sharply and said:
“You know what dat chile’ oughter be named? Wal, suh, Scape-many-dangers would fit her pine blank. De Lawd on’y knows what she gwine tu’n out, but hits boun’ ter be one ting or turrer; she gwine be de banginest one ob de hull lot, or she gwine be jist nothin’ but a little debbil. Now, suh, who is yo’?”
The concluding question was sprung upon the Professor so suddenly that he nearly jumped. He looked at the old woman a moment, the suggestion of a twinkle in the eyes behind the big glasses, then answered soberly:
“I might be termed a knight errant I presume; I’ve been guarding a young lady from the perils of the highway.”
“Night errand? ’Tain’t no night errand as I kin see. Can’t be much broader day dan tis dis minute,” retorted Mammy, looking up at the blazing luminary directly over her head by way of proving her assertion. “If you’s on a errand dat’s yo’ b’isness; ’taint mine. But I’d lak ter know yo’ name suh, so’s I kin tell Miss Jinny.”
“Is Miss Jinny the older sister who manufactures that delicious candy?” asked the Professor, as he drew his card case from his pocket and handed Mammy his card.
“No, suh, she’s my Miss Jinny: Miss Jinny Blairsdale; I mean Carruth. My mistis. Dat chile’s mother. Thank yo’, suh. I’ll han’ her dis cyard. Is she know yo’, suh?”