“An’ Ah been cleanin’—­yes, seh, Mahstah Majah—­fum celleh to gahet.  Them floahs do shine an’ them windows is jes’ so clean they look lahk they ain’t theah at all.  Miss Cahline an’ Little Miss, they reside on th’ lowah floah, an’ Ah tek mahse’f up to that theh gahet.  Yes, seh, Ah haf to scrooge aw Ah git mah haid knocked off, but Ah reckon Ah sho’ will luhn to remembeh in Gawd’s own time.  An’ they’s a tehible grand hen-house.  Ah’m go’n’ a’ raise a hund’ed thousan’ yellow-laiged pullets; an’ theh’s a staihway down to th’ watah whah Ah kin tie up mah ole catfish boat, an’ a monst’ous big gyahden whah Ah kin keep mah fie’ce look on them mush an’ watah melons.  Ah don’ want t’ git into any mo’ alterations with them boys, but Ah suttinly will weah ’em out if they don’t mind theah cautions.  Yes, seh,—­we all go’n’ a’ have a raght tolable homeplace.”

Then my grievance prompted me.

“Yes, and who’s going to get my breakfast and dinner for me, then?” I asked with a dark look, but he beamed upon me placatingly.

“Oh, Ah’s still go’n’ a’ do fo yo’, Mahstah Majah.  Ah steddied huh all out twell she’s plumb systemous.  Miss Cahline sh’ ain’t wantin’ huh breakfus’ twell yo’s done, an’ she’ll tek huh dinneh uhliah.  Ah manage, Mahstah Majah.  Ah mek all mah reddiments, yes, seh—­yo’s go’n’ a’ be jes’ lahk mah own folks.”

I affected to be made more cheerful by this, but I knew that no man can serve two masters, especially when he is the “pussenal propity” of one; but I forbore to warn the deluded African of the tribulations ahead of him.

The Book of MISS CAROLINE

CHAPTER XIII

A CATASTROPHE IN FURNITURE

“Miss Cahline comin’ this yeh time a’ yeah so’s ‘t’ll seem mo’ soft an’ homelike.  Ah gaiss she go’n’ a’ sprighten raght up when she see th’ summeh time all pleasant.”

Thus Clem said to me a few weeks later, and I praised his thoughtfulness.  But I nursed misgivings both for Miss Caroline and for Little Arcady.  How would they take each other?  I conceived Miss Caroline to be a formidable person whom Little Miss resembled, Clem said, “as aigs look lahk aigs.”  No further detail could I elicit from him save that his Mistress was “not fleshily inclahned,” and that Little Miss was “sweetah’n honey on a rag!”

They would find our summer acceptable, even after a Southern summer heavy-sweet with magnolia and jasmine, honeysuckle and mimosa; with spirea and bridal-wreath and white-blossomed sloe trees.  And the house as put to rights by Clem would be found at least endurable.  It had not the solid grace nor the columned front of the houses I had somewhat hurriedly admired in the Southland some years before, but its lower rooms were wide, its windows abundant, and outwardly it had escaped the blight of the scroll saw.

But the civilization of Little Arcady would be alien to the newcomers, and I was apprehensive that it would also be difficult.