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She made a dart at the baby, but he raised a shrill protest, which caused her hopelessly to desist. "O Delphy, you've come between us!" she cried. "I 'low ef I hadn't you'd 'a' run plum crazy," was Delphy's justification. "Dis yer chile's my bizness, en yourn it's down yonder in de parlour wid Marse Dudley." Eugenia wavered and stood irresolute.
Something in the huge old fireplace, with its bent andirons supporting the blazing logs, in the increasing bed of embers upon the bricks, in the sharp odour of the knot of resinous pine she had thrown on with the hickory, brought before her the winter evenings in Delphy's little cabin, when they sat upon three-legged stools and roasted early winesaps.
From the stable came the faint neigh of the old mare, and he remembered suddenly that he had forgotten to put straw in her stall and to loosen her halter that she might lie down. He rose and stole softly downstairs and out of the house. One evening in late autumn Nicholas went into Delphy's cabin after supper and found Eugenia seated upon the hearth, facing Uncle Ish and Aunt Verbeny.
The training of her slave-holding ancestors was strong upon her, and she regarded Delphy's liberty of speech as an inherent right of her position.
Between them Delphy's son-in-law, Moses, was helping Bernard mend a broken hare trap, while Delphy, herself, was crooning a lullaby to one of her grandchildren as she carded the wool which she had taken from a quilt of faded patchwork.
And they were rushing across the yard in chase of a horned-frog when they caught sight of Mammy Delphy under the kitchen shed. "Let's go and get Mammy Delphy to give us some meat and go a crawfishin', boys," suggested Sam. "And I'm hungry, for one," added Joe. Accordingly they filed in, as I said, and stood for a moment listening to Mammy Delphy's song.
At that instant a little barefooted negro came running across the lawn from the spring-house, a large tin pail in his hand. "Here, boy!" called the general. "Where're you off to? What have you got in that pail?" "It's Jake," said Eugenia in a whisper, while Jim barked frantically from the shelter of her arms. "He's Delphy's Jake."
"He don't do nuttin' fur his livin' but eat all day, en' den when night come he don't do nuttin' but holler kaze de time ter leave off eatin' done come. He ain' no mo' use'n a weazel." Eugenia promised to befriend the baby, and left with Delphy's pessimism ringing in her ears. "He ain' wuth yo' shoestring, he ain'," called the woman after her.
For herself she asked now only busy days of domestic interests and the unbroken serenity of middle age but, despite herself, another life was before her, for she lived again in her child. The twilight fell. She put her work aside, and, coming to the hearth rug, took the baby from Delphy's arms. He was in his night-dress, and his big blue eyes were drugged with sleep.
"Dar's Marse Dudley, now," said Aunt Verbeny. "I ain' so ole but my palate hit kin taste a gent'mun a mile off. Marse Dudley ain' furgit de times I'se done roas' him roas'in' years when he warn' mo'n er chile. Hit's 'how's yo' health, Aunt Verbeny? des' de same es 'twuz den." Eugenia laughed and flung the heap of garments into Delphy's arms.
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