“Is being in the cabin and having Joe cook the hoe-cake and the chicken nicer than having luncheon out here in the grass like this?” asked Allan Bennett, a whole world of envy in his tone.
"A heap nicer,” was Brevet’s not uncertain reply.
“Do you really t’ink so, Honey?” asked Joe, smiling from ear to ear. “Well, den, all you little Bennetts is invited on de spot, to take Fo’th of July dinner wid me in my cabin, an’ if Miss Courage will honour me wid her presence, an’ de Colonel will come out from Washington, an’ Miss Sylvy will lend me a hand wid de preparations, strikes me we might hab a good time sure nuff.”
Everybody accepted Joe’s invitation with alacrity, and there could not have been a happier ending to a perfect day than to have just such another perfect day planned for at its close. It simply took all the bitterness out of the parting that followed soon after.
“Miss Lindy,” whispered Joe importantly, as he helped Grandma Ellis into the carriage, “I ’spects you and Mars Harry for de Fo’th of July dinner, but as dere won’t be no room for Mammy I didn’t make no public mention of your two names. Seemed as dough it might make her feel a bit uncomfortable if she was de only one not mentioned; but you understan’, Miss Lindy, de cabin am small an’ Mammy large, an’” (putting his hand to his mouth and speaking in a still lower whisper) “seems like Mammy gettin’ too old to be of much use to anybody. You un’erstan’, Miss Lindy?”
“Oh, yes, I understand perfectly,” Grandma Ellis answered, very much amused, “and I’ll make it all right with Mammy.” But from Grandma Ellis’s point of view Mammy did not seem to be growing old one whit more rapidly than old Joe himself.