“And may I rent it for one month?” asked Constance.
“Better rent it for one year,” urged Mr. Porter. “It’s in a mighty good location.”
“And I call it a mighty po’ location,” broke in an emphatic voice. “A mighty po’ one, and no kynd ob a place fo’ one ob ma chillen fer to be at. Gobblin men-folks hyar at de lunch stan’; smokin’ men-folks at de nex’ one; an’ we kin bress Gawd ef we don’t fin’ oursefs wid guzzlin men-folks on yonder at de tother side befo’ long.”
“Now, now! Hold on, Mammy! Go slow,” broke in Mr. Porter, laughingly. “You know the Arcade doesn’t stand for that sort of thing. Don’t hit us so hard.”
“How I gwine know what it boun’ ter stan’ fer if it lak ter stan’ fer lettin’ dat chile rint a counter nex’ door to a segar stan’?” snapped Mammy, her eyes fixed upon the luckless superintendent, personifying the strongly emphasized it.
“Well, it’s lucky we found you here. Now, we never took that side of the question into consideration, did we, little girl? Yes, I guess Mammy’s judgment beats ours. Great head! So come on, Mammy, and let us have your sound advice in this choice of bigger quarters for Miss Constance. You see, I predict that she will never return to the smaller ones again.”
“Don’t need no gre’t secon’-sight fer ter make dat out, I reckon,” was the superior retort.
Mr. Porter looked crushed and then dropped behind Mammy, who went sailing majestically down the Arcade, to stop at the very first and most pretentious of all the Arches—one which had been rented until very recently by a stationer, who had profited so handsomely that he had built a large shop not far from the Arcade, and now wished to sub-let this arch until his lease expired. Next to it was a florist’s stand, and opposite a stationer’s, each of a very high order. Constance stood aghast at Mammy’s audacity.
“Why, Mammy, this is the highest-priced arch in the Arcade,” she exclaimed.
“Well, what dat got ter do wid it, Baby? Ain’t your candy de highest-priced candy? An’ ain’ you de very high-water mark quality? Who gwine ter ’spute dat? Go ’long an’ rint yo’ place; yo’ all matches p’intedly,” and with this speech Mammy stalked back to her own quarters.