Mrs. Clayton’s position came into my mind.  What was this visit to a sister?  Was it not a pure makeshift, an expedient in the breaking up of her life, the first step in an accommodation to Dorothy’s loss?  I had such ample means.  Why should she not come with me?  Why separate Dorothy from her?  Why leave Mammy and Jenny behind, who had served nearly the whole of their lives in this household?  I had learned to like the colored people.  What heart could withhold itself from Mammy and Jenny?  These humble devoted souls whose lives and thoughts had no concern but to make Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy happy, and who had taken me into the circle of their interest!  What were the colored people but the shadows of the white people, following them and imitating them in a childlike, humorous, innocent way?  How difficult for selfishness, seeking its own happiness, to understand Mammy and Jenny, whose whole happiness and undivided heart were in giving happiness to Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy!

I spoke my plan to Dorothy, “Come, let’s take mother, Mammy, and Jenny with us.  Close the house for good.  I want all of you.  We can transfer all this happiness to Chicago.  I will get a big house.  I have some one now with whom to share my riches.  This sharing is the beginning of my real satisfaction in life.”

Dorothy took my hand, pressed her cheek against mine.  “Oh, my dear, my dear!” was all she said.  I felt her cheek moistening with tears.  Then drawing her to me I said:  “Yes, my dear, that is my wish.  Let us drive back now and tell mother.”

Mrs. Clayton was silent for some seconds.  Then she said:  “Aren’t you best alone?  Take Mammy and Jenny if you wish.  But perhaps I can’t be a mother to you, James; perhaps you won’t want to be a son to me as time goes on.  These things must come to mothers and fathers.  The daughters find new homes and go away.  I did that.  And now Dorothy has the same right.”

“No,” I said, with emphasis, “I want you.  I want to transfer this whole atmosphere to Chicago.  I want all of you with me.  I do not wish you to wander off on this visit.  After that what, anyway?  You should not be separated from Dorothy.  Come, and if you want to go on a visit from Chicago, well and good.”

If this was to be, there was much to do.  Could we wait until the house was rented, or at least placed with an agent, the furnishings stored if necessary?  Yes, I could wait and Dorothy could wait.  And day by day both of us importuned Mrs. Clayton to come with us.  She saw at last that it was our dearest wish.  And she yielded.

In the meanwhile Dorothy and I were driving about the country or sitting under the trees in the yard, living through great rapture, mothered by Mrs. Clayton, and so constantly served by Mammy and Jenny and Mose.

Then the day came.  The house was rented.  Mrs. Clayton stored some of her furnishings.  The choicest things she gave to Dorothy—­lovely mahogany and silver.