Folks from Dixie

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

“Well, honey, dey ain’t no tellin’ whut Mas’ Jack’s plans was, an’ hit ain’t fu’ me to try an’ guess ’em; but ef he had sont Mas’ Tho’nton erway to brek him off f’om Miss Nellie, he mout ez well ’a’ let him stayed at home; fu’ Jamieson’s Sal whut nussed Miss Nellie tol’ me dat huh mistis got a letter f’om Mas’ Tho’nton evah day er so. An’ when he was home fu’ holidays, you never seed nuffin’ lak it. Hit was jes’ walkin’ er ridin’ er dribin’ wif dat young lady evah day of his life. An’ dey did look so sweet together dat it seemed a shame to pa’t ’em—him wif his big brown eyes an’ sof’ curly hair an’ huh all white an’ gentle lak a little dove. But de ole Mas’ couldn’t see hit dat erway, an’ I knowed dat hit was a-troublin’ him mighty bad. Ez well ez he loved his son, hit allus seemed lak he was glad when de holidays was over an’ de boy was back at college.

“Endurin’ de las’ year dat de young Mastah was to be erway, his pappy seemed lak he was jes’ too happy an’ res’less fu’ anything. He was dat proud of his son, he didn’t know whut to do. He was allus tellin’ visitors dat come to de house erbout him, how he was a ’markable boy an’ was a-gwine to be a honour to his name. An’ when ’long to’ds de ve’y end of de term, a letter come sayin’ dat Mas’ Tho’nton had done tuk some big honour at de college, I jes’ thought sho Mas’ Jack ’u’d plum bus’ hisse’f, he was so proud an’ tickled. I hyeahd him talkin’ to his ole frien’ Cunnel Mandrey an’ mekin’ great plans ’bout whut he gwine to do when his son come home. He gwine tek him trav’lin’ fus’ in Eur’p, so’s to ‘finish him lak a Venable ought to be finished by seein’ somep’n’ of de worl’—’ dem’s his ve’y words. Den he was a-gwine to come home an’ ‘model de house an’ fit it up, ’fu’’—I never shell fu’git how he said it,—‘fu’ I ’spec’ my son to tek a high place in de society of ole Kintucky an’ to mo’ dan surstain de reputation of de Venables.’ Den when de las’ day come an’ young Mastah was home fu’ sho, so fine an’ clever lookin’ wif his new mustache—sich times ez dey was erbout dat house nobidy never seed befo’. All de frien’s an’ neighbours, ’scusin’, o’ co’se, de Jamiesons, was invited to a big dinner dat lasted fu’ hours. Dey was speeches by de gent’men, an’ evahbidy drinked de graderate’s health an’ wished him good luck. But all de time I could see dat Mas’ Tho’nton wasn’t happy, dough he was smilin’ an’ mekin’ merry wif evahbidy. It ’pressed me so dat I spoke erbout hit to Aunt Emmerline. Aunt Emmerline was Mas’ Tho’nton’s mammy, an’ sence he’d growed up, she didn’t do much but he’p erroun’ de house a little.

“‘You don’ mean to tell me dat you noticed dat too?’ says she when I tol’ huh erbout it.

“‘Yes, I did,’ says I, ‘an’ I noticed hit strong.’

“‘Dey’s somep’n’ ain’t gwine right wif my po’ chile,’ she say, ‘an’ dey ain’t no tellin’ whut it is.’

“‘Hain’t you got no idee, Aunt Emmerline?’ I say.

“‘La! chile,’ she say in a way dat mek me think she keepin’ somep’n’ back, ‘la! chile, don’ you know young mans don’ come to dey mammys wif dey secuts lak dey do when dey’s babies? How I gwine to know whut’s pesterin’ Mas’ Tho’nton?’

“Den I knowed she was hidin’ somep’n’, an’ jes’ to let huh know dat I’d been had my eyes open too, I say slow an’ ’pressive lak, ‘Aunt Emmerline, don’ you reckon hit Miss Nellie Jamieson?’ She jumped lak she was skeered, an’ looked at me right ha’d; den she say, ‘I ain’ reck’nin’ nuffin’ ’bout de white folks’ bus’ness.’ An’ she pinched huh mouf up right tight, an’ I couldn’t git another word outen huh; but I knowed dat I’d hit huh jes’ erbout right.

“One mo’nin’ erbout a week after de big dinner, jes’ ez dey was eatin’, Mas’ Tho’nton say, ‘Father, I’d lak to see you in de liberry ez soon ez you has de time. I want to speak to you ’bout somep’n’ ve’y impo’tant.’ De ole man look up right quick an’ sha’p, but he say ve’y quiet lak, ‘Ve’y well, my son, ve’y well; I’s at yo’ service at once.’