CHAPTER X.
MATTHIAS JONES.
Father was consulted regarding the coming of Matthias Jones, and he thought it would be a good plan, for our farming people had often cause to hire help, and it had always been scarce, since it was only in the busiest time there were such needs.
Aunt Phebe and myself were delegated to go over to the house of Jacob Lattice and Plint Smith, who were the only colored people among us, and who lived about a mile to the west of our house. We thought there might be a chance for a home among them, and so it proved.
Jacob Lattice's wife had no room; "hardly enough for themselves," Mrs. Lattice said depreciatingly, "much less any place for strange folks"; but Mrs. Smith, known to us all as Aunt Peg, gave us a little hope. She had a peculiar way of addressing people, and sometimes her talk seemed more like the grunting of words strangely mixed. When she saw Aunt Phebe with me, her face radiated in smiles (and as her mouth was large, these smiles were broad grins) and, jerking her small wool-covered head while she hastily smoothed out her long apron, she said:
"This is my aunt,—you have seen her before," I replied.
"Yes, seen her to meetin' with ye; come in, mam," and she dropped a low curtsey and set forward two chairs, whose sand-scoured seats were white and spotless, for Aunt Peg was a marvel of neatness.
I told our errand, and with one of her queer looks, she said: