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Updated: May 10, 2025
"There is no serious harm done," he said in a quiet, pleasant voice; "the frame can be easily replaced, and as for the photograph " he paused and smiled again, then he drew Bertie's hand into his; "Myrtella, I shall no longer have need of a photograph of that young lady. She has consented to come herself and take charge of us all."
When shall I take charge of things, to-morrow?" "As you say," said Myrtella meekly; then with a sudden flare, "though it does look like I might be trusted one more day to finish up the general cleaning and git after the ashman for not emptyin' them barrels." "Friday, then?"
Miss Lady looked at her with amazement, and shrank instinctively from the desperate, defiant woman. "That's right!" cried Myrtella, almost beside herself. "Snatch your hand off my arm, shrink away from me like I was a leper! Tell everybody, tell the police that I throwed my baby in the ash barrel and abandoned it! It don't make no difference now, nothin' makes no difference but Chick. Oh, my God!
How long have they been?" "They will be down very soon now, Myrtella. Don't tear your handkerchief like that. Here, take mine." But Myrtella's eyes were too full of terror for tears; she sat with her hands locked about her knees swaying to and fro. "I've never told nobody," she went on wildly; "all these years I've kept it bottled up in my soul 'til it's eat it plumb out. I never done it to Chick!
That's what I came out to tell you, and she wants her supper an hour earlier than ours. But that isn't what's troubling me, Myrtella, I have something much more serious than Cousin Emily to worry over." "You ain't no exception," said Myrtella, somewhat defensively. "Trouble is about the only thing that rich people ain't got a monopoly on.
Myrtella wheeled in the doorway, her face purple with anger: "If you think I'm a-goin' an' leave you children in this big house, messin' up yer own food, an' lettin' everybody run over you, you are mighty mistaken!
It was readin' Scriptures to him she was when I come away, and him a-settin' there, right pitiful, a-tellin' her how he'd lost all he had in the flood. A religious talkin' man if I ever heard one." "Red-headed?" inquired Myrtella, arresting a hot iron in mid air. "He was." "When she gits done with him, you send him over here," Myrtella brought the iron down on the board with a thud.
"Do you have company like this all the time?" asked Miss Lady somewhat breathlessly. "This is nothing!" exclaimed Connie dramatically. "Before Myrtella came I never knew what it was to sleep in my own bed, and I had to eat the legs of chickens until I felt like a centipede. There! You are all right; come along. Don't forget to tell Father about the party!"
Queerington that I'll send the motor for her at five; and do see that she is properly hooked up." Myrtella succeeded in getting herself and the box silently out of the room, but the butler passing her on the back stairs was startled by a verbal shower that was not in the least intended for him.
After her fall, instead of expiring of apoplexy, as might have been expected from her countenance, Myrtella picked herself up from the pavement and, peeping through a crack in the fence, smiled. It was an expression so unfamiliar to her features that they scarcely knew how to manage it.
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