The Chronicles of Aunt Minervy Ann

by Joel Chandler Harris

“But I don’t,” said the lady of the house, abruptly and unexpectedly; “I don’t think it was funny at all.”

Aunt Minervy Ann looked at me and lifted her chin triumphantly, as she resumed: “No’m, ’twa’n’t funny. Mary Ellen wuz proud an’ high-strung; you could read dat in de way she walk an’ eve’y motion she make, an’ dat ar telegraph dat de Northron lady sont ’er fum Atlanty kinder run ’er in a corner. She dunner what ter do, ner which way ter turn. Look at it yo’se’f, ma’am, an’ see whar she wuz.

“She laughed, ma’am, but she wuz in trouble, an’ I’m sech a big fool dat I’m allers in trouble ’long wid dem what I like. Take de tape-line ter der trouble an’ den ter mine, an’ you’ll fin’ dat dey medjer ’bout de same. Mary Ellen laugh an’ say, ‘Dey’s two things I kin do; I kin leave town, er I kin go down dar ter de cabin an’ kill myse’f.’ Oh, she wuz in a corner, ma’am—don’t you doubt it.

“Right den an’ dar sump’n pop in my head. I ’low, ‘Is you been ter call on Marse Bolivar Blasengame?’ She say ‘No, I ain’t, Aunt Minervy Ann. I started ter go, but I’m afear’d ter.’ I ’low, ‘Well, I’m gwine dar right now; come go wid me.’

“So we went dar, and I left Mary Ellen on de back porch, an’ I went in de house. Marse Bolivar wuz settin’ down, gwine over some papers, an’ Mis’ Em’ly wuz darnin’ an’ patchin’.

“I say, ‘Marse Bolivar, dey’s a gal out here dat I thought maybe you an’ Mis’ Em’ly would be glad ter see?”

“He ’low, ‘Dang you’ hide, Minervy Ann! You like ter make me jump out’n my skin. Who is de gal?’

“I say, ‘I wanter see ef you know ’er.’ Wid dat I went back an’ fotch Mary Ellen in. Well, dey didn’t know ’er, ma’am, na’er one un um; an’ I dunner how it all happened, but de fust thing I know Mary Ellen fell on ’er knees, by a lounge what sot under de place whar Miss Sally’s pictur’ wuz hangin’ at. She fell on her knees, Mary Ellen did, and ’low, ‘She’d know who I is,’ an’ wid dat she bust aloose an’ went ter cryin’ des like ’er heart wuz done broke in two.

“Marse Bolivar stood dar an’ wait twel Mary Ellen cool off, an’ quiet down. Mis’ Em’ly, ma’am, is one er dem ar primity, dried-up wimmen, which, ef dey ain’t fightin’ you wid bofe han’s, er huggin’ you wid bofe arms, ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ’tall. An’ ef Mis’ Em’ly ain’t sayin’ nothin’ you can’t put de key in de Bible an’ fin’ no tex’ dat’ll tell you what she got in ’er min’. But she wuz darnin’, an’ I see ’er wipe one eye on de leg er de sock, an’ den present’y she wipe t’er eye.

“Wellum, Marse Bolivar stood dar an’ look at Mary Ellen, an’ when she riz fum her knees an’ stood dar, her head hangin’ down, still a-cryin’, but mo’ quieter, he went close up an’ ’low, ‘I know you, Mary Ellen, an’ I’m mighty glad ter see you. Dat ar letter what you writ me, I got it yit, an’ I’m gwine ter keep it whiles I live.’