“You see, I jess stepped in on dese two young ladies fust, and cotched ’em Christmas gift, and very nice presents they had, all ready and awaitin’ for ole Phœbe,”—and she courtesied to each,—“and for Milly, too, bless their sweet souls un ’em, jess like dey knowed Phœbe was a-comin’ to cotch ’em,—bless de pretty little honeys!—and so says I, says I to myself, says I, I’ll jess step in and catch dese two fust; and so, I creeps up to de door, I did, soft as a cat, I did, and turns de knob, easy-like, and I flings open de door and ‘Christmas gift’ says I, jess so, says I, and dey had de most loveliest presents all wrapped up and a-waiting for Phœbe, jess as I tell you, and for Milly too, and I dunno what Milly gwine do wid all de things she done got, and dey is all nice and one ain’t no prettier dan de others, and Phœbe is uncommon obleeged to one and all,”—and she gave a duck in front of each,—“and Milly too. Gal, what you a-standin’ dere for, wid your fingers in your mouth, like somebody ain’t got no sense? Ain’t you gwine to make no motion? Is dat de way I done fotch you up, and you b’long to de quality, too? Dese young niggers is too much—too much for Phœbe!”
It would be going too far, perhaps, to say that Milly blushed; but she managed to look abashed, and contrived to appease her mother by sundry uncouth wrigglings, meant to express her thanks.
“Howsomedever, as I was sayin’, year in and year out ole marster have had a heap o’ young ladies a-spendin’ Christmas at Elmin’ton,—fust one Christmas and den another; but ef ever Phœbe saw more lovelier—”
“Oh, Aunt Phœbe!”
“Fo’ de Lord, I hope de crabs may eat me ef tain’t so, jess as I tell you. Why, Lor’ bless my soul, ain’t I hear all the young gent’men say de same?” [general satisfaction.] “On course I has! I wish I may drop dead if I don’t b’lieve ole marster must a’ picked Richmond over pretty close.”
The merriment elicited by this remark gave such pause to the old lady’s eloquence that Alice was enabled to put in a word.
“But, Aunt Phœbe, tell me about the serenade?”
Phœbe looked puzzled.
“Tell us about the gentlemen’s serenade last night?”
“Lor’, chile, ole marster don’t have none o’ dem high-fangled Richmond doin’s ’bout him; thar warn’t nothin’ but apple-toddy and eggnog.”