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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Poor Aunty Hominy! did you think I was sold, or abused, because I had been married? Dear old aunty, I shall never leave you!" Aunt Hominy had a countenance of profound, almost vacant, melancholy, mixed with a fear that, the Judge remarked, "he had seen on the faces of niggers that had stolen something." "Miss Vessy," she stammered, at last, "is you measured in by ole Meshach?
Didn't he, dat drefful Meshach Milbun, offer Miss Vessy a gole dollar, an' she wouldn' have none of his gole? Dat she did! Virgie, you go git dat hat, chile! Poke it off de rack wid my pot-hook heah. 'Twon't hurt you, gal! I'll sprinkle ye fust wid camomile an' witch-hazel dat I keep up on de chimney-jamb."
Some of the white people says so, too." "You don't believe such foolish tales as that, Virgie?" Vesta asked. "'Deed, I don't believe anything you say is a story, Miss Vessy. Hominy believes it. She's 'most scared out of her life about Mr. Milburn coming to the house, an' she's got all the little ones a' most crazy with fear." "Poor, dark, ignorant soul!"
"No, Miss Vessy. Nobody could have stepped over me, for my mind has been too awake, if I did sleep a little. Maybe he ain't a-coming, Miss Vessy. Maybe he's ashamed!" "Hush, Virgie," Vesta said, "you are speaking of your master."
Aunt Hominy turned towards the broadly notched chimney sides, where fifty articles of negro pharmacy were kept bunches of herbs, dried peppers, bladders of seeds, and bottles of every mystic potency. "Aunty," answered Virgie, "if I wasn't afraid of that Bad Man, I would be afraid to move that hat, because Miss Vessy would be mortified. Think of her seeing me treating a visitor's things like that.
I have passed it many a day, looking with mischievous curiosity for the steeple-hat, to show that to some city friend, little thinking I must ever enter the house. But hear that wilful bird singing so loud! Where is it?" "I can't tell to save my life. It ain't in the tree yonder. It's the first bird up this mornin', Miss Vessy, sho'!"
That bird's a Mocker. It must be in there somewhere. Oh, don't go in, Miss Vessy; something will catch you, dear Missy, sho'." But Vesta was already gone, following the piercing sound of the native bird, that seemed to be in the loft.
"I am almost afraid to look at it," said Virgie, "but if Miss Vessy told me to go bring it to her, I would do it." "Le's us all go together," ventured Aunt Hominy, "and take a peep at it. Maybe it won't hurt us, if we all go."
Sit down and look them over carefully and see if they are all here!" He took them up, with volatile relief laughing on his yet tear-marked face, and said: "We'll burn them, Vessy." "Nay, sir, not till you have seen them all. A single note missing would give you the same perplexity, and there is no daughter left to settle it." He looked at her with a smile, yet annoyance.
"Quaker," the old woman repeated, backing out and looking down, "Quaker's what keeps him from a measurin' of me in!" Then, as Vesta drew on her bonnet and shawl, having taken her coffee and toast, the old servant, gliding back in the depths of Teackle Hall, raised a wild African croon, as over the dead, giving her voice a musical inflection like the jingle of Juba rhyme: "Good-bye, Miss Vessy!
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