In a twinkling, he was in the street. "This is a fine morning," thought he. "I've got the right letter this time, so I won't hurry home, for marster ain't goin' to find any fault if I don't git thar till noon."
So the next hour was spent in gossiping with all the blacks which could be found lounging round the streets. Suddenly one of the negroes called out, "Ho, Rondeau! Thar's yer old marster Lace comin'. You'd better cut stick for home, or he'll be in yer har."
Rondeau instantly started for home, where he was greeted [pg 115] by Aunt Dilsey with a torrent of abuse, that good lady rating him soundly for being gone too long. "Warn't he 'shamed to be foolin' away his time? 'Twan't his time nuther, 'twas marster's time. Was that ar fulfillin' of Scripter, which says, 'we must be all eye sarvants,' which means ye must all keep clus where yer marsters can see you?"
How long Aunt Dilsey might have gone expounding Scripture is not known, for Rondeau interrupted her by saying, "Don't scold so, old lady. Marster ain't a-goin' to care for I've got him something this time better than victuals or drink."
"What is it?" said Leffie, coming forward. "Have you got him a letter from Kentuck?"
"I hain't got nothin' else, Miss Leffie Lacey, if you please," said Rondeau, snapping his fingers in her face, and giving Aunt Dilsey's elbow a slight jostle, just enough to spill the oil, with which she was filling a lamp.
"Rondeau, I 'clar' for't," said Aunt Dilsey, setting down her oil can. "If marster don't crack your head, my old man Claib shall, if he ever gits up agin. Thar he is in his bunk, snorin' like he was a steamboat; and marster's asleep upstairs, I reckon. Well, 'tain't no way to live. Things would go to rack and ruin if I didn't sweat and work to keep 'em right end up, sartin."
Aunt Dilsey was really a very valuable servant, and had some reason for thinking herself the main spoke in the wheel which kept her master's household together. She had lived in the family ever since Dr. Lacey's early recollection, and as she had nursed him when an infant, he naturally felt a great affection for her, and intrusted her with the exclusive management of the culinary department, little negroes and all. His confidence in her was not misplaced, for from morning till night she was faithful to her trust, and woe to any luckless woolly head who was found wasting "marster's" sweetmeats and pickles.
On the first hand Aunt Dilsey was very sensitive, for being naturally active and stirring herself, "She," to use her own words, "couldn't bar to see folks lazin' round like thar was nothin' to do, but to git up and stuff themselves till they's fit to bust." She also felt annoyed whenever her young master indulged himself in a morning nap. "Ought to be up," she said, "and airin' hisself."
On the morning following the party, her patience was severely taxed in two ways. First, Claib, her husband, had adhered to his resolution of sleeping over, and long after the [pg 116] clock struck eleven he was sleeping profoundly. He had resisted all Aunt Dilsey's efforts to rouse him. Her scoldings, sprinklings with hot and cold water, punching with the carving fork, had all proved ineffectual, and as a last resort, she put the baby on his bed, thinking "that would surely fetch him up standin', for 'twasn't in natur to sleep with the baby wollopin' and mowin' over him." Her master, too, troubled her. Why he couldn't get up she couldn't see. "His breakfast was as cold as a grave stun, and she didn't keer if 'twas. She had enough to do 'tendin' to other affairs, without keepin' the niggers and dogs from porkin' thar noses in it."