“Den let her go ’long de way she’s been a-goin’; let her make it down yonder in her Ma’s kitchen, an’ sell it in de Arcyde, jus’ lak she been a-doin’ all dese months. She ain’t got no call fer to earn any mo’ money’n she’s a-earnin’ right now. Ain’t me an’ Charles a-comin’ ’long right spry wid our lunch counter in dar?” she insisted, with a nod of her turbaned head toward the section of the building in which she and Charles had carried on a flourishing trade ever since the immaculate counter had displayed its tempting viands to those who passed along the Arcade, and who were not slow to avail themselves of Mammy’s wonderful art of cookery, or to bring their friends to enjoy it also.
“Yes, Mammy, you and Charles are real wonders to all who know you; but can’t you understand why a girl of Miss Constance’s type would never be happy if dependent upon others? Why, with all her young and splendid health, strength and energy, she must have some outlet for her ambition.”
“Den let her go a-frolickin’ lak her Ma did when she was mos’ sixteen! Let her go a-horsebackin’ and a-dancin’ at parties, an’ a-picnicin’ and all dose t’ings what a girl lak her ought ter be a-doin’. Wha’ you s’pose ma ol’ Massa Blairsdale say an’ do if he could come back an’ see de doin’s in our house? Gawd-a-mighty, I wouldn’t crave ter be aroun’ if he come along unbeknownst an’ see Miss Jinny’s chillern grubbin’ ’long in candy kitchens and teachin’ oder folks’ chillern, and hikin’ all ober de kentryside peddlin’ candy. He ax me fust, ‘Mammy, yo’no count ol’ nigger, wha’ you been about?’ An den he bang ma haid clean off!”
“I hardly think so, Mammy. The head and the heart have given too much to those he loved. But don’t be troubled about Miss Constance. Remember this: no matter what she chooses to do, she will remain the sweetest of gentlewomen to the end of the story. You little guess the respect she already inspires in all who know her, if she is but sixteen. Let me help her by arranging her kitchen just as her practical little head has planned it all. It is the least I can do. Miss Willing will bear the brunt of the hard work this winter, leaving Miss Constance free to finish her high-school-course. It is a wise plan all around and a kinder one than you realize. The Arcade telephone switchboard was no place for a girl like Mary Willing, and to have been instrumental in removing her from the temptations she was sure to meet there is a more beautiful charity than those blazoned at large in the daily papers. Don’t thwart it, Mammy. Let the little girl down yonder go on with her good work; she doesn’t realize how far-reaching it is: perhaps she will never learn. Her mother does, however, and is using a very fine instrument to bring the work to perfection.”
Mammy had sat very silent all the time, her old face wearing a puzzled expression, her keen eyes fixed upon a paper cutter which lay upon Haydn’s desk, her lips pursed up doubtfully. Haydn did not break the silence; he only watched. After a few moments she looked up, gave a perplexed sigh, and said:
“Well, sah, p’raps yo’ is right. P’raps yo’ is. I ain’t nothin’ but a’ ole nigger woman, but, bress Gawd, I loves ma white folks, an’ I hates fer ter see de ole times so twisted up wid de new ideas, I sartain’ does. It goes against de grain p’intedly.”
“I can understand all that, dear old Mammy, but you mark my words, the results will justify the deeds.”
So Mammy gave up the argument, though she was far from resigned to the plans.
And thus had the enterprise grown. Constance finished her year at the high-school, Mary Willing was established in the model little candy kitchen, with all its practical little appointments, and before long was nearly as proficient as Constance herself, and quite as enthusiastic. One year slipped by and another followed it. Then a third was added to the number, until now, with the autumn of 19— Constance was nineteen years old and Eleanor twenty-one.
Neither has changed a great deal. Eleanor’s three years in the college world have given her greater poise and independence, a more matured outlook upon life, but the old Eleanor Carruth is still in evidence.