“I think so,” said Angela, “and I shall go now and have it prepared.” She went out, and in half an hour Mammy Tulip came into the hall and delivered this message to Isabey:
“Miss Angela, she sent her bes’ ’spects an’ say Marse Richard’s room is ready fur you, an’ I’se gwine ondress you an’ put you to baid.”
Colonel Tremaine looked much shocked. “That, Tulip,” he said severely, “will be Tasso’s duty, who in the absence of Peter in attendance upon his young master has charge of that room.”
Mammy Tulip received this emendation with undisguised contempt. “Tasso, he good ’nuff fur well folks, but Cap’n Isabey, he’s wounded and distrusted an’ I ain’t gwine let dat fool nigger ondress a sick man.” And then to Isabey, “Come ’long, honey, an’ le’ me do fur you jes’ what I do fur dem boys.”
Lyddon had seen this cool defiance of master and mistress every day of the twelve years he had spent at Harrowby, but was still surprised at it.
However, Isabey with the weakness of illness felt a placid pleasure in yielding himself to Mammy Tulip’s motherly care, and willingly allowed her to “hyst” him up as she expressed it, and leaning upon her stout arm with Lyddon on the other side, Colonel Tremaine walking behind, and Tasso, Jim Henry, Mirandy, and several of their coadjutors bringing up the rear, the procession moved toward Richard’s room.
One charm no room at Harrowby could ever lack—a roaring wood fire. It had already taken the chill off the unused room, and to Isabey the glow, the warmth, the great soft feather bed with its snowy linen, was a little glimpse of paradise. And Angela moving softly about and concerned for his comfort was the sweetest part of the dream.
A round table was drawn up to an armchair in front of the fireplace, and on it were quilled pens, cut by Lyddon, and red ink made from the sumac berries, and the coarse writing paper which was the best to be had in the Confederacy; and there were also some books. One rapid glance showed Isabey that they were the books he liked; Angela remembered all his tastes.
“Here,” she said, “you will have your supper, and then,” she added with perfect simplicity, “Mammy Tulip will put you to bed.”
“And,” continued Mammy Tulip as she settled Isabey comfortably in the chair with pillows, “I gwine to hab a big washtub brought in heah an’ a kittle of b’iling water an’ I gwine gib you a nice hot bath wid plenty ob soap an’ towels.” At which Isabey laughed faintly and Lyddon grinned, much to the amazement of Angela and Colonel Tremaine, who were accustomed to Mammy Tulip’s ministrations.