“No, I only came for Mrs. Drennen to see how Sempire’s foot is. She says he stepped on a stone.”
The black face puckered with a puzzled look, that broadened into a smile the next instant.
“Marse Drennen done tole dat to Miss Liddy ez a skuse fo’ he not ridin’ mo’. She all de time tryin’ to mek he git out an’ gallavant. He ain’t nuver gwine do dat no mo’. Miss Liddy, she al’ays worryin’ feared Marse Drennen moutn’t joy heseff, an’ he al’ays worryin’ cause she worryin’. She mek up all kinds ob things fur he to do dat way, an’ he jes humor her to think he do ’em, an’ she nuver know no diffunce.”
Margaret had seated herself on the step and was looking up. “You’ve always been with her, haven’t you?”
Creed smiled to the limit of his heavy lips. “’Deed I hev. When Miss Liddy wuz married she purty nigh fou’t to fotch me wid her. Her ole maid sister, she wantter keep me wid dee all back dar in New O’leens. You see I knowed Miss Liddy when she warn’t a hour ole an’ no bigger’n a teapot.
“Meh mammy wuz nussin’ de li’l mite in her lap wid a hank’cher ober her, an’ I tip in right sorf to cyar a hick’ry lorg an’ drap on de fiah. Dat li’l han’ upped an’ pull de hank’cher offen her face an’ look at me till I git cl’ar th’oo de do’. She wuz de peartest, forward’st young ’un! An’ she growed up lak she started, too. Marse Drennen he proud lak a peacock when he come down dyar frum de Norf an’ cyared her off wid he.”
“I remember how pretty she was.” Margaret spoke softly.
“Does yo’ sho ’nuff? She wuz jes ’bout yo’ age den. Her ha’r wuz de color ob a gole dollar, an’ her eyes wuz blue ez a catbird’s aig. She wuz strong as a saplin’, an’ she walk high lak a hoss whut done tuck de blue ribbon et de fa’r.”
Sempire arched his shining neck and whinnied gently for another apple. Creed stroked the intelligent face affectionately. “Whut mek yo’ go juckin’ dat way?” he said. “Cyarn’t you see I’se talkin’ to de ledy?”
He looked into the fresh young face beneath the straw hat with its nodding poppies and drew a deep breath.