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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Why, Miss Maggie, I didn't suppose you HAD any nerves," bantered the man. She threw him an expressive glance. "Haven't I!" she retorted. Then again she gave the impatient gesture. "But even the gossip and the questioning aren't the worst. It's the family themselves. Between Hattie's pulling one way and Jane the other, I feel like a bone between two quarrelsome puppies.
You know there is an old proverb, 'The sheep has a golden hoof. They save me the trouble of ploughing. I haven't ploughed my orchard for ten years, and don't expect to plough it for ten years more. Then your Aunt Hattie's hens are so obliging that they keep me from the worry of finding ticks at shearing time. All the year round, I let them run among the sheep, and they nab every tick they see."
"My Aunt Cordelia has invited the visiting lady next door," said Emmy Lou. But it was Sadie's hour. "Our minister's coming," said Sadie. "Oh, Sadie," said Hattie, and while there was despair in her voice one knew that in Hattie's heart there was exultation at the very awfulness of it. "Oh, Sadie," said Emmy Lou, and there was no exultation in the tones of Emmy Lou's despair.
After attending the colored Sabbath-school in , and teaching a class of nicely-dressed, bright little "slave" girls, and hearing the school sing their beautiful songs, with melodious voices, such as, I can truly say, I never heard surpassed at the North, and after looking upon the teachers, who represented the very flower of Southern society, the superintendent being a man who would adorn any station, you cannot fully conceive with what feelings I read, in one of Hattie's little papers from the North, these lines, set to music for the use of Northern children: "I dwell where the sun shines gayly and bright, Where flowers of rich beauty are ever in sight; Here blooms the magnolia, here orange-trees wave; But oh, not for me, I'm a poor little slave.
During the two days they remained in port two large steamers came in, and on the way out they passed as many more, both of which showed the English colors when Marcy, in obedience to Beardsley's orders, ran the Confederate emblem up to the Hattie's peak. "Everything that's aboard them ships is meant for us," said Captain Beardsley.
He leaned closer, and above his tall, narrow collar dull red flowed beneath the sallow, and his long white teeth and slick-brushed hair shone in the arc light. "Eh, Queenie?" "I gotta go now, Charley. Hattie's waiting home for me." She attempted to pass him and to slip into the outgoing stream of the store, but with a hesitation that belied her. "I I gotta go, Charley."
So she stood and watched the school-play of the other children, never knowing the thrills of a game of "tag," nor the reckless adventures of "black man"; even "Pussy wants a corner" disarranged her painfully curled curls and was rarely risked. "Hop- scotch," when the figure was small and lady-like, was practically the limit of Hattie's "violent exercise." So she did not develop-how could she!
Campbell himself, who had made a fortune in Bessemer steel, a well-looking, well-groomed gentleman, smooth-shaven and with hair that was none too gray, more than once caught himself standing before Lloyd's picture that stood on the mantelpiece in Hattie's room, looking at it vaguely as he clipped the nib from his cigar.
He was again impetuous and offended every conservative propriety of Hattie's dutiful melancholy by asking her to marry him and this actually in the room where her mother's funeral was held the day before!
Faces swimming in the stage ozone and wolfish for cue. The purple lips Almost like a frieze stuck on to the border of each day was Hattie's life in the theater. Passementerie. That was how Hattie treated it. Especially during those placid years of the phenomenal New York run of "Love Me Long." The outer edge of her reality. The heart of her reality?
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