“Seem lak, seem lak de very ol’ boy hisself done got inter dat man,” scolded Mammy, her wrath the outcome of nervous irritation, for Charles was the pride and the love of her life. “No matter how I is ter argify wid him, he just natcherly boun’ ter go ’long ter dat Arcyde yistiddy, an’ now see what done come of it! Gawd bress ma soul, I reckons I’d smack him good ef he warn’t lyin’ dar groanin’ so wid his misery dat he lak ’nough wouldn’t feel de smacks I give him. Tch! tch!” and Mammy shook her head ominously.
“Poor Charles! I’ll go right out to the cabin, Mammy, and sit with him while you look after your cooking; it’s too bad, too bad; but I think he will soon be about again.”
“Yes, an’ ef yo’ goes out in dis hyar blizzardy weather I’ll have two sick folks on my han’s ’stid o’ one. Now, see here, Miss Jinny, yo’ min’ me an’ stay indoors! Yo’ hear me?”
“Nonsense, Mammy. Do you think I shall take cold by walking from here to your cabin? How foolish,” protested Mrs. Carruth. “Your luncheon counter cannot be neglected, and with but one pair of hands how can you do your cooking and nurse Charles, too?”
As she spoke Mrs. Carruth tied a scarf over her head and wrapped a long, heavy cloak about her, Mammy never for a second ceasing to protest.
“Now come, Mammy,” she said, leading the way to the back door, Mammy following and scolding every step of the way. As they opened the door leading to the back porch they were assailed by a gust of wind and a whirl of snow which blinded them, and at the same time nearly carried them off their feet.
“Mighty man! Go ’long back, Miss Jinny’ Go back! Dis hyar ain’t no fittin’ place fer yo’, I tells yo’,” gasped Mammy, turning to bar Mrs. Carruth’s progress, for even Mammy’s weight was as a straw against the gale which swept around the corner of the porch. But slight as she was, Mrs. Carruth was not to be overborne. For a moment she laid hold of the porch railing to steady herself, then with a firm hold upon her flapping cloak braced herself against the wind, and started for the cottage. Mammy was for once silenced, simply because the words were swept from her lips as soon as she tried to form them.
Earlier in the morning an attempt had been made to clear a path to the cottage; but in such a wild, howling blizzard a half hour was more than enough to set man’s work at naught, and Mrs. Carruth and Mammy had to flounder through the snowdrifts as best they could, and were breathless when they reached the bottom of the garden.
“Fo’ Gawd’s sake, come unner de lee ob de house ’fore yo’ is blown daid unner ma eyes, honey,” panted Mammy. “Oh, why for is we ever come ter sech a place fer ter live! We all gwine be froz daid ’fore we kin draw our brefs. Come in de house, Miss Jinny, come in,” and, half dragging, half carrying her mistress, Mammy led her into the cabin where the little darkey, Mammy’s handmaiden, stood with her eyes nearly popping out of her head with fright, for she had been watching them from the safe shelter of the kitchen.
Mrs. Carruth dropped upon a chair well-nigh exhausted, for even though the cabin was barely two hundred feet from the house, it had required all the strength she could summon to battle her way to it in the force and smother of the blizzard.