“Why not? It will be the experience of their lives—an education by practical illustration of manners polite. How can you hesitate, Eleanor? I thought you were a strong advocate of settlement work, and here you are overlooking an opportunity sent to your very door. Who was it I heard talking about ‘neglected opportunities’ not long since? A most edifying dissertation, if I recollect aright, too.”
“I second the motion. Such a zest to a meal may never again be offered. Yes, Mrs. Carruth, you’ve got it to do. It is clearly a duty brought to your door,” added Homer Forbes. “Moreover, it will give me a wonderful opportunity to pursue my psychological studies. Didn’t know I was knee-deep in them, did you, Eleanor? Fact, however. Human emotions as the direct result of unsuspected mental suggestion, etc. Bring on your subjects, Constance.”
“I give in. Do as you’ve a mind to, you incorrigible children, only bear this in mind—you are not to tease those girls and make them miserable. Jean has made one wild break, but there shall be no more if I can prevent it. Since she has brought them here, and you will dine with them, so be it; but you are not to tease them, you madcap men,” was Mrs. Carruth’s final dictum.
“Not a tease, not a smile out of order,” agreed Hadyn, though his twinkling eyes half belied his words.
“You just watch us entertain ’em,” insisted Homer.
“I’ll watch, you may be sure of that,” laughed Mrs. Carruth. “Now fly, Connie, and summon our unexpected guests.”
We will pass over the oysters, which were disposed of as never before oysters had been, and the soup, which disappeared audibly. That dinner was a genuine Southern one, and no item was lacking. At length arrived the critical moment when the bird of national fame should have appeared, but—didn’t. There was a long, ominous delay. Charles bustled and fussed about, one eye upon his mistress, the other upon the pantry. No one noticed that Jean’s conversational powers, never mediocre, were now phenomenal. She talked incessantly and as rapidly as a talking machine, albeit her listeners seemed to offer small encouragement for such a ceaseless flow of language. They sat with their eyes fastened to their plates—plates which would require very little scraping before washing. To and from pantry and dining room vibrated Charles. The vegetables, relishes, jellies—in short, everything to be served with the turkey—was placed in tempting array upon the sideboard; but still no sign of the festive bird itself, and Charles’ perturbation was increasing by the second. As on many another occasion it was Mammy who supplied the climax. At this crucial moment she appeared in the doorway of the pantry, her eyes blazing, her face a thundercloud, as she stammered:
“Miss Jin-n-n-ninny! M-m-iss Jinny! Please, ma’am, fergive me fer ’trudin’ in ’pon yo’ when yo’ is entertainin’; but ’tain’t lak dey was strangers, dey’s all ob de family, so to speak, ma’am” (Mammy was too excited to notice that the cheeks of two individuals seated at that board had turned a rosy, rosy pink), “an’ I jes’ natchelly got to speak ma min’ or bus’—”
“Why, Mammy, what has happened?” interrupted Mrs. Carruth, quite aware that Mammy managed to find mares’ nests when others were unable to do so, but surprised by this one, nevertheless. Mammy did not often overstep the lines set by convention; but on this occasion she certainly seemed tottery.
“De bird! De tuckey! It’s gone! It’s done been stole right out ob ma wamin oven yonder. I done had it all cook to a tu’n, an’ set up in ma oven fer ter keep it jes’ ter de true livin’ p’int ob sarvin’, an den I run inter Miss Connie’s kitchen fer ter git some ob dem little frilly papers I need fer its laigs, an—an’ it mus’ ’a’ been stole whilst I was in dar, er else de very debbil hisself done fly away wid it right from unner ma nose, kase I ain’t been outer dat kitchen one single minnit since—not one!” emphasized Mammy, with a wag of her turbaned head, her talking machine running down simply because her breath had given out.