"I'm so glad we are going to Mammy's cabin," Marjorie said, as they turned the horses' heads in a homeward direction. "It makes me think of so many things I have read. Don't you remember in 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' how George Selby used to slip away from the big house, and go down to Uncle Tom's for waffles and fried chicken? Mammy is such an old dear; I do want to hear her talk again."
"She certainly is a character," said Beverly, laughing. "We'll get her to tell some anecdotes about Barbara and me. According to Mammy I must have been a pickle."
Marjorie was conscious of a feeling of relief at having successfully turned the conversation away from Elsie and her affairs, and she and Beverly chatted on pleasantly until they reached Mammy's cabin, where they dismounted and Beverly tied the horses to the hitching post. Mammy was on the watch for them, and gave them a hearty welcome.
"Now you jes lay off yo' tings, and set down by de fiah," she commanded, placing chairs for the visitors, "an' I'll have dem waffles done in a jiffy. Lor', Mas'r Bev'ly, it jes' does my heart good to see you settin' heah in my kitchen, like you used to do when you an' Miss Babs—now Mas'r Bev'ly, don't you tease my Josephus; he mighty 'telligent cat, he is. He won't stan' no foolin'."
"He's a beauty," said Marjorie, stooping to stroke the big maltese, who responded to the caress by springing on the arm of her chair.
Mammy beamed with satisfaction.
"Josephus likes you fust rate, Missy," she said, approvingly. "He don't make friends with mos' folks; he's too 'ristocratic. He knows what's what, Josephus does."
"Mammy is the most delicious snob," laughed Beverly; "she only allows Josephus to associate with aristocratic cats. All the unfortunate plebeian cats in the neighborhood are driven away with a stick."
"Cose dey is," declared Mammy, indignantly. "What yo s'pose I want common, no-'count cats botherin' round heah for? Ain't I always lived in de most 'ristocratic Virginia fam'lies, and wasn't my paw own body-servant to ole General Putnam, an' my maw bought by Mas'r Randolph's father when she weren't more'n ten years old, an' brought up in de house, to be maid to de young ladies? I'se lived in de fust fam'lies, I has, and I'm proud of it, too."
"What a perfectly heavenly place!" whispered Marjorie to Beverly, with a glance round the neat little kitchen, as the old negress bustled away intent on household duties.