I apparently reserved my protest until some intricate passage in my shaving was passed. At least I thought that Mammy would think so. I was really trying to put my reply in shape.
I was anticipated.
“You know you is really 'titled to yo' fif's by law, Mahs William,” resumed Mammy, in her natural manner, “because still bein' bond, you could call on me, an' I don't begrudge you; in fact, Ise beholden to you.”
“Not at all, Mammy. Don't talk any more about my fifth. You are as good as free, you know.”
“I knows that, Mahs William; but right is right, and I gwine to pay for them buttons.”
“Well, you may do that this time, Mammy, but I shall certainly return you the money.”
“Jess as you choose, Mahs William, but you's 'titled to yo' fif' all the same.”
I must note here a characteristic of Mammy's which had strengthened as her powers failed, namely, “nearness.” The euphemism applied at first, though Mammy yielded to temptations in the way of outfit as long as she deemed herself “likely.” After that period a stronger expression was required. She was always in possession of money, and was frequently our banker for a day, when, in emergencies, our parents were not on hand.
Monday I found my garment with its full complement of buttons, but of such diversity of pattern that I planned a protest for Mammy's next visit.
But when she explained that the bill was only fo'pence—six and a quarter cents, Spanish—and that it was the fashion now, so she was told, “to have they buttons diffunt, so they could dentrify they clothes,” I settled without remark. Mammy's financial skill and resource in imagination condoned everything.