“Goodness, Mammy, how you startled me!”
“Yo’ better had git up f’om dat floor ’stid o’ bendin’ ober dat sky-blue sheet o’ paper what done look lak it got Chinee writin’ an’ drawin’ on it. Yo’ face make out de res’ ob de colors fer de hull ’Merican flag: red, white an’ blue alltergedder. ’Taint no kynd ob a day fer ter be bendin’ ober lak yo’ is. Nex’ t’ing yo’ know yo’ gwine git rush o’ blood ter de haid, an’ dat’s bad, I tells yo’! Wha’ yo’ gwine do wid all dat blue stuff, anyway? Yo’ ain’ tell me one single t’ing ’bout it, an’ I ain’ know wha’ ’tis. An’ I wants fer ter know, too, if yo’ gwine be home ter lunch ter day.” Mammy’s sharp eye scrutinized the rosy face before her.
“O, you needn’t bother about me, Mammy. Mr. Forbes will be over shortly and we are going for a tramp.”
“Tromp! tromp!” echoed Mammy. “Tromp on sich a hot day as dis hyar wid de fermom’ter jist nachelly climbin’ cl’ar out er sight? Is you done gone silly, yo’ an’ dat Perfesser Fo’bes? Yo’ stay ter home in dis cool house what I done darken up fer ter keep out de sizzlin’, billin’ heat. It fa’r scoch de very skin off yo’ body. Don’ yo’ let dat man drag yo’ up dat mountain on sich a day, I tells yo’.”
“Oh, we don’t mind it, and the woods are so cool. Just put up one of your delicious little luncheons for us, and we’ll be more than supplied.”
“Cool in de woods! Yis, when yo’ gits to em, but yo’s got right smart ter walk fo’ yo’ comes ter dem, an’ I ain’ pinin’ fer no sich ’xertion on such a frazzlin’-out day. But I reckons I jist better save ma’ bref dan spend it a-talkin’. Yo’ lunch gwine be ready fo’ yo’ when yo’ ready fo’ it; but what I wants ter know now is, what all dat meanin’,” and Mammy pointed again to the big blueprint.
Eleanor was not given to emotion but there come times in every life when one’s emotions are more easily played upon than at others. The past week had held such moments for Eleanor. Of all Mammy’s children Eleanor had been the least demonstrative. She rarely caressed the old woman as Constance and Jean did. Now, however, she bounded to her feet and, rushing to Mammy, cried:
“Oh, Mammy! Mammy! Do you believe in dreams? Don’t you think they come true sometimes?”
“A heap o’ times!” interjected Mammy.
Eleanor sighed ecstatically. I knew you would say so, Mammy. “And ours will, won’t it?”