Ruth said she was going to have some late vegetables, and there was a
pretty good chicken house and wired run. If they could get a few hens,
the eggs would help out on the meat-bill. _That_ was the way Ruth
Kenway still looked at things!
The picket fence about the front of the old Corner House property was
higher than the heads of the two younger girls. As they went slowly
along by the front fence, looking out upon Main Street, they saw many
people look curiously in at them. It doubtless seemed strange in the
eyes of Milton people to see children running about the yard of the
old Corner House, which for a generation had been practically shut up.
There were other children, too, who looked in between the pickets, too
shy to speak, but likewise curious. One boy, rather bigger than Tess,
stuck a long pole between two of the pickets, and when Dot was not
looking, he turned the pole suddenly and confined her between it and
the fence.
Dot squealed—although it did not hurt much, only startled her. Tess
flew to the rescue.
“Don’t you do that!” she cried. “She’s my sister! I’ll just give it to
you——”
But there came a much more vigorous rescuer from outside the fence. A
long legged, hatless colored girl, maybe a year or two older than
Tess, darted across Main Street from the other side.
“Let go o’ dat! Let go o’ dat, you Sam Pinkney! You’s jes’ de baddes’
boy in Milton! I done tell your mudder so on’y dis berry
mawnin’——Yes-sah!”
She fell upon the mischievous Sam and boxed both of his ears soundly,
dragging the pole out from between the pickets as well, all in a
flash. She was as quick as could be.
“Don’ you be ’fraid, you lil’ w’ite gals!” said this champion, putting
her brown, grinning face to an aperture between the pickets, her white
teeth and the whites of her eyes shining.
“Dat no-’count Sam Pinkney is sho’ a nuisance in dis town—ya-as’m! My
mudder say so. ’F I see him a-tantalizin’ you-uns again, he’n’ me’ll
have de gre’tes’ bustification we ever _did_ hab—now, I tell yo’,
honeys.”
She then burst into a wide-mouthed laugh that made Tess and Dot smile,
too. The brown girl added:
“You-uns gwine to lib in dat ol’ Co’ner House?”
“Yes,” said Tess. “Our Uncle Peter lived here.”
“Sho’! I know erbout him. My gran’pappy lived yere, too,” said the
colored girl. “Ma name’s Alfredia Blossom. Ma mammy’s Petunia Blossom,
an’ she done washin’ for de w’ite folks yere abouts.”
“We’re much obliged to you for chasing that bad boy away,” said Tess,
politely. “Won’t you come in?”
“I gotter run back home, or mammy’ll wax me good,” grinned Alfredia.
“But I’s jes’ as much obleeged to yo’. On’y I wouldn’t go inter dat
old Co’ner House for no money—no, _Ma’am_!”
“Why not?” asked Tess, as the colored girl prepared to depart.
“It’s spooky—dat’s what,” declared Alfredia, and the next moment she
ran around the corner and disappeared up Willow Street toward one of
the poorer quarters of the town.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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