I opened my eyes which, alas! were crossed, to give and receive a blessing.
"A cross-eyed girl!" he exclaimed. "How did it happen?"
"I dunno, Marse Dae, how de po' boy happened to be a gal. I 'clare it wuz none of we-all's doin's, but I reckon de reason she's cross-eyed is her bein' born lak she was in de middle of de week a lookin' bofe ways for Sunday."
Thus was I blessed by physician, mother and father. In a few weeks the eyes uncrossed of themselves, but they are still looking both ways for Sunday—which never comes.
Three weeks later, when my grandmother made her second visit to me, her first grandchild, finding that I had developed into a very colic-y, and consequently, fretful child, a disturber of sleep and peace, she offered to take me back home with her, a proposition which was eagerly accepted. The "settin'-aig-basket" was sent for and I was comfortably and cosily placed in it and put into the foot of her rockaway. Pery, the driver, was cautioned to be "keerful of de ruts en de jolts; not to go to sleep nor to step 'pon dat chile, en don't you drap her out; ef you do she'll ha'nt you as long as you lib."
It was a beautiful day in June. The air was laden with perfume and song. Not that I knew it at the time—cuddled up in my "settin'-aig-basket"—but I have credible information on the subject, furnished later, with all the rest of the details of that most important, though unconscious, period of my earthly career. Every little while my grandmother would peep into the basket to see that all was well. Everybody we met stopped to ask after the "new-born baby" and, being informed of its presence in the "settin'-aig-basket," requested to make its acquaintance sans ceremonie, Pery taking advantage of the introduction to hop out of the rockaway and gather great green honeysuckles and honeysuckle blossoms, which he put into the basket until it looked as if filled with honeysuckles and their blooms, that being the best tribute he could offer to the little new "missis."
At Sandy Bottom, the dismal grave of many a trusting heart, where the frog croaks his never-ceasing croon, Uncle Frenigike came out from "Free-nigger-town" to borrow "a chew of terbacker" and beg a "ninepence to buy de ole man a plug." Recognizing the "settin'-aig-basket" he said:
"Lordy, Mistis, can't you give de ole man a settin' of dem aigs. We-all's ole domernicker is jest gwine to settin'."
Being informed of the contents of the basket, he asked to be allowed to see "de li'l gal baby."
"Lord, Lord! Jes' look at dem li'l fis'es," he exclaimed. "Dey's bofe shet up jest as tight ez wax. Dat chile sho' gwine to be one stingy white woman when she grows up ef you-all don't scrouge dem dar li'l fis'es open en put sumpn 'twixt 'em."