CHAPTER IX

 Aunt EDY’S story

Aunt Edy was the principal laundress, and a great favorite she was with the little girls.  She was never too busy to do up a doll’s frock or apron, and was always glad when she could amuse and entertain them.  One evening Dumps and Tot stole off from Mammy, and ran as fast as they could clip it to the laundry, with a whole armful of their dollies’ clothes, to get Aunt Edy to let them “iun des er ’ittle,” as Tot said.

“Lemme see wat yer got,” said Aunt Edy; and they spread out on the table garments of worsted and silk and muslin and lace and tarlatan and calico and homespun, just whatever their little hands had been able to gather up.

“Lor’, chil’en, ef yer washes deze fine close yer’ll ruint ’em,” said Aunt Edy, examining the bundles laid out; “de suds’ll tuck all de color out’n ’em; s’posin’ yer jes press ’em out on de little stool ober dar wid er nice cole iun,”

“Yes, that’s the very thing,” said Dumps; and Aunt Edy folded some towels, and laid them on the little stools, and gave each of the children a cold iron.  And, kneeling down, so as to get at their work conveniently, the little girls were soon busy smoothing and pressing the things they had brought.

“Aunt Edy,” said Dumps, presently, “could’n yer tell us ‘bout Po’ Nancy Jane O?”

“Dar now!” exclaimed Aunt Edy; “dem chil’en nuber is tierd er hyearn’ dat tale; pyears like dey like hit mo’ an’ mo’ eb’y time dey hyears hit;” and she laughed slyly, for she was the only one on the plantation who knew about “Po’ Nancy Jane O,” and she was pleased because it was such a favorite story with the children.

“Once pun er time,” she began, “dar wuz er bird name’ Nancy Jane O, an’ she wuz guv up ter be de swif’es’-fly’n thing dar wuz in de a’r.  Well, at dat time de king uv all de fishes an’ birds, an’ all de little beas’es, like snakes an’ frogs an’ wums an’ tarrypins an’ bugs, an’ all sich ez dat, he wur er mole dat year! an’ he wuz blin’ in bof ‘is eyes, jes same like any udder mole; an’, somehow, he had hyear some way dat dar wuz er little bit er stone name’ de gol’-stone, way off fum dar, in er muddy crick, an’ ef’n he could git dat stone, an’ hol’ it in his mouf, he could see same ez anybody.

“Den he ’gun ter stedy how wuz he fur ter git dat stone.

“He stedded an’ he stedded, an’ pyeard like de mo’ he stedded de mo’ he couldn’ fix no way fur ter git it.  He knowed he wuz blin’, an’ he knowed he trab’l so slow dat he ’lowed ’twould be years pun top er years befo’ he’d git ter de crick, an’ so he made up in ‘is min’ dat he’d let somebody git it fur ‘im.  Den, bein’ ez he wuz de king, an’ could grant any kin’ er wush, he sont all roun’ thu de kentry eb’ywhar, an’ ‘lowed dat any bird or fish, or any kin’ er little beas’ dat ’oud fotch ’im dat stone, he’d grant ’em de deares’ wush er dey hearts.