CHAPTER III
THE PROBLEM
The cabin was looking very sweet and fresh after a thorough cleaning from the willing hands of Susan, who was in a state of bliss because her beloved mistress was returning. Gwen had found some belated Cherokee roses and with a few sprays of honeysuckle added had glorified the plain room.
“You think Miss Lizzie Somerville is el’gant! Well, you jes’ oughter see my missis. She is the mos’ el’gantes’ lady in the whole er Richmond. I bet Mis’ Carter ain’t never in all her life done a han’s turn. Gawd knows what she gonter say ’bout these here young ladies er hern workin’ like they was in service,” Susan remarked to the little English Gwen, who had done many a hand’s turn herself and still had an elegance all her own, so evident that the colored servants recognized her as a “lady bawn.”
“I think it is very wonderful that the Carter girls should be able to work so well when they have never been brought up to it,” said Gwen as she hung the last freshly laundered sash curtain.
“That’s they paw in ’em,” declared Susan. “He is the wuckinest gemman I ever seed. ’Tain’t nothin’ he won’t turn his han’ ter. He don’t never set back and holler fer help when he wants the fire fixed er sech like. No’m, he jes’ jumps up an’ waits on hisself. Sometimes he used ter git Mis’ Carter kinder put out ’cause he’d even do his own reaching at the table. Miss Douglas is the spittin’ image of him. None of the gals favors her much ’cep Miss Nan. She looks like her but she ain’t so langrous like when they’s work on hand. Miss Helen is the same kind er spender as her maw. I believe my soul them two would ruther buy than eat. Cook used ter say that Mis’ Carter an’ Miss Helen spent like we done come to the millionennium. Great Gawd! Here they is an’ I ain’t got on my clean apron. That’s one thing that Mis’ Carter’ll certainly git cross over—aprons.”
She did not, however. Too pleased to see the faithful Susan, Mrs. Carter overlooked the doubtful apron.
“What a charming room! Is this where I am to be? And you girls in the tents beyond? And Bobby—where does Bobby sleep?”
“He is with Lewis Somerville and his friend, Bill Tinsley. I believe he wrote you about Bill,” said Helen, “—the young man who was shipped from West Point when Lewis was.”
“Oh yes, I remember! I am glad to see you have not let yourself run down like Douglas, my dear. Your hair looks well kept and your complexion is perfect.”