He planted a spank on each of two small rears. “There’s your Christmas gift. Now go and get your clothes on. When you come down properly dressed you’ll get your Christmas gift.”
“Mother’s asleep, we don’t know where our clothes are,” protested a little boy.
“Wake her up. Wake everybody up. It’s Christmas morning.”
“Yes, sir!” The two obeyed with alacrity, rushing out shrieking, “Wake up! Wake up! Christmas gift!”
“We have to get breakfast over so we can set the tables for dinner,” said Rachel, “and all the people are slow and lazy this morning. Betty says the oven won’t get hot for her spoon bread and Dilsey cut the bacon too thick and then went off in a sulk when I scolded her.”
“I’ll get them all up,” threatened the General. He strode out through the house to the bricked passage to the kitchen, pulled on a rope dangling from a pole. The slave bell clanged loud and long.
“My patience,” Rachel exclaimed, “the neighbors will think the house is afire!”
“Git them triflin’ niggers stirrin’, anyways,” said Hannah.
“Get the mugs for the children, Hannah, and tell ’Relia to get herself upstairs to help the young ladies. And I want every bed made up right away.”
Hannah said, “Yas’m.” She loved ordering the other maids around, being middle-aged, faithful and privileged.