“Why—why, I’d no idea it was so terrible,” she panted. “I’ve never known such a storm.”
“Ain’t I tell yo’ so? Ain’t I tell yo’ not ter come out in it? An’ how I is ter git yo’ back ter de house is mo’n I kin tell,” deplored Mammy, as she hastily divested herself of her own wrappings and then turned to remove her mistress’.
“Yo’ foots is soppin’, soakin’ wet. Yo’ mought as well not ’a’ had no rubbers on ’em, fer yo’ is wet ter de knees. Hyer, you no ’count Mirandy, get me some hot water, an’ den hike upstairs fo’ de bottle ob alcohol, yo’ hyer me!” stormed Mammy, relieved to find someone to vent her irritation upon. “An’ yo’ ain’t gwine back ter dat house whilst dis storm is ragin’, let me tell yo’.”
“I am all right, Mammy; this is mere folly. I shall be as dry as a bone in just a few minutes,” protested Mrs. Carruth.
“Yis! Yis! An’ lak enough chilled to de bone, too. Now, yo’ min’ what I tells you,” and, in spite of their protests, Mrs. Carruth was presently rubbed and warmed into dry garments and comfort. It was well Constance’s Candy Kitchen communicated with Mammy’s quarters, and that a supply of clothing was always kept in it. It was deserted this morning, for Mary and Fanny had gone home on the previous, Saturday afternoon, and the storm had made it impossible for them to return. A large supply of candy had been sent to the Arcade on Saturday morning; so even if customers were courageous enough to face the blizzard in quest of sweets there would be no lack of of sweets to please the sweet tooth, and Constance was glad of the respite the storm gave her, for, like many another busy little business woman, she found many things to attend to in the house when she could steal the time from her regular duties.
This morning she was busy with a dozen little odd bits of work, while Jean, school impossible in such weather, was lost to all the outer world in a new book.
When Mrs. Carruth was made comfortable she went upstairs to Charles. She found him in a sorry plight, and saw at once that poor old Charles was in a more serious condition than Mammy realized, troubled as she was about him; but this was carefully concealed from the old woman.
“We have both to take our scolding now,” she said as she seated herself near him. “Mammy will never forgive either of us for disobeying her, Charles. But what can I do for you?”
Charles was too stiff and full of pain to move, but he tried to smile bravely as he answered:
“Reckons we’d better a-minded her, Honey. Reckons we had. She’s a mighty pert ’oman, she is, an’ when she say do, we better do, an’ when she say don’t, we better don’t, dat’s suah. An’ jes’ look at me! Hyar I layin’ lak I tied han’ an’ foot, an’ de bis’ness down yonder gwine ter rack an’ ruin, lak ’nough, wid dat no ’count boy a-runnin’ it. And Charles groaned in tribulation of spirit.