Stories by American Authors, Volume 9 — John Shaqi
Stories by American Authors, Volume 9Various
General
Stories by American Authors, Volume 9
Various
Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Hit 'peared like somethin' hed tole ole missis we wuz comin' so; for
when we got home she wuz waitin' for us--done drest up in her best
Sunday-clo'es, an' stan'in' at de head o' de big steps, an' ole
marster settin' in his big cheer--ez we druv up de hill to'ds de
house, I drivin' de ambulance an' de sorrel leadin' 'long behine wid
de stirrups crost over de saddle.
"She come down to de gate to meet us. We took de coffin out de
ambulance an' kyar'd it right into de big parlor wid de pictures in
it, whar dey use' to dance in ole times when Marse Chan wuz a
school-boy, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin use' to come over, an' go wid ole
missis into her chamber an' tek her things off. In dyar we laid de
coffin on two o' de cheers, an' ole missis nuvver said a wud; she jes'
looked so ole an' white.
"When I had tell 'em all 'bout it, I tu'ned right 'roun' an' rid over
to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, 'cause I knowed dat wuz what Marse Chan he'd
'a' wanted me to do. I didn' tell nobody whar I wuz gwine, 'cause yo'
know none on 'em hadn' nuvver speak to Miss Anne, not sence de duil,
an' dey didn' know 'bout de letter.
"When I rid up in de yard, dyar wuz Miss Anne a-stan'in' on de poach
watchin' me ez I rid up. I tied my hoss to de fence, an' walked up de
parf. She knowed by de way I walked dyar wuz somethin' de motter, an'
she wuz mighty pale. I drapt my cap down on de een' o' de steps an'
went up. She nuvver opened her mouf; jes' stan' right still an' keep
her eyes on my face. Fust, I couldn' speak; den I cotch my voice, an'
I say, 'Marse Chan, he done got he furlough.'
"Her face was mighty ashy, an' she sort o' shook, but she didn' fall.
She tu'ned roun' an' said, 'Git me de ker'ige!' Dat wuz all.
"When de ker'ige come 'roun', she hed put on her bonnet, an' wuz
ready. Ez she got in, she sey to me, 'Hev yo' brought him home?' an'
we drove 'long, I ridin' behine.
"When we got home, she got out, an' walked up de big walk--up to de
poach by herse'f. Ole missis hed done fin' de letter in Marse Chan's
pocket, wid de love in it, while I wuz 'way, an' she wuz a-waitin' on
de poach. Dey sey dat wuz de fust time ole missis cry when she find de
letter, an' dat she sut'n'y did cry over it, pintedly.
"Well, seh, Miss Anne she walks right up de steps, mos' up to ole
missis stan'in' dyar on de poach, an' jes' falls right down mos' to
her, on her knees fust, an' den flat on her face right on de flo',
ketchin' at ole missis' dress wid her two han's--so.
"Ole missis stood for 'bout a minit lookin' down at her, an' den she
drapt down on de flo' by her, an' took her in bofe her arms.
"I couldn' see, I wuz cryin' so myse'f, an' ev'ybody wuz cryin'. But
dey went in arfter a while in de parlor, an' shet de do'; an' I hyard
'em say, Miss Anne she tuk de coffin in her arms an' kissed it, an'
kissed Marse Chan, an' call 'im by his name, an' her darlin', an' ole
missis lef' her cryin' in dyar tell some on 'em went in, an' found her
done faint on de flo'.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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