“Humph! won’t remember!” sniffed the old darky, with a fine show of scorn. “What is it de Scripture says about rememberin’—Thee, O, Jerusalem, if my right hand be cut off? They can’t fergit dis time! I done made Jeff write ter Lizzie and Callie mo’n a month ago tellin’ ’em ’xactly w’at I’se ’spectin’!”
“Oh, you surely didn’t do that!” cried Edith, amused as well as shocked at the old woman’s candor.
“Yes’um, I swar I did!” came the unwavering reply. “Thar’ ain’t no beatin’ ’round de bush ’bout me; ef dey’s got a spark ob decency or se’f-respec’ dey’ll do w’at I tole ’em.”
“What did you say you wanted?” asked Mrs. Radcliffe, whose curiosity had become thoroughly aroused.
“I tole ’em ter sen’ me a bedquilt an’ I sent ’em a bushel o’ calico scraps ter he’p it ’long. Then I wanted a big jar of watermillon-rind pickle, a gallon of peach preserves, an’ er sack full ob fresh goose feathers. Last of all I axed fur er warm gray shawl. Ef dey had ter leabe off anything, I said let it be dat shawl, ca’se my ole one’s mighty nigh good ’nough to w’ar to pra’r meetin’s an’ funerals.”
During the days that intervened the conversation in the kitchen and the Christmas festivities, Mammy Rose was constantly on the alert, each morning awakening with new hope and at night evincing great disappointment as package after package arrived for old and young and nothing came for her. By the morning of the 24th, she had become extremely morose and ceased to take further interest in the holiday preparations. However, even in that state of mind she continued to hail every express man, delivery man, and “A. D. T. boy” who came in sight, demanding to know whether they had a package at the ’spress office for Rose Wilkerson that they were “too triflin’ ter deliver.”
But, poor old soul, miserable as she was, she was by no means the only individual who was dejected over the non-appearance of the presents from Lizzie and Callie. Edith and Agnes were inclined to regard the matter very seriously. In fact, after luncheon on Christmas Eve, they called a family council in the library, desiring that some action be taken in the case. In spite of pressing engagements elsewhere, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe, Grandfather and Grandmother, Rob and Jerry, and Uncle Joe Echols were present to lend a sympathetic ear to this vexed domestic problem.
Edith as voluntary counsel for the faithful stewardess plead her cause feelingly, eloquently, and with eminent success. Every member of that august body agreed that Mammy Rose must receive her box before bedtime on Christmas Eve, preferably by fair means, otherwise, by foul. If, upon investigation at the Southern office, there proved to be no package for her from those Virginia ingrates, why Old Santy himself must provide one. A very simple plan was put into operation. The men formed themselves into a “ways and means” committee, authorizing the girls to draw upon them for the necessary finances. Mrs. Radcliffe believed that she could purchase a pretty calico quilt from the “Ladies’ Aid Society” of her church, and the pickle and preserves could be procured from the Woman’s Exchange. Grandma thought she knew where a soft, warm shawl might be found and she put on her bonnet and cloak to go and select it herself. In the bustle and stir of the fleeting afternoon, however, the sack of fresh goosefeathers loomed up as a staggering proposition.
“Suppose we give her an eiderdown sofa pillow; she can rip it and take the feathers out after Christmas if she wishes to make some other use of them,” proposed Agnes.
“Yes, that’s all right. We haven’t time to go poking around in poultry yards or to rip Grandma’s feather bed,” chimed in Rob.