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Updated: June 3, 2025
She held the bundle up and looked at it in rapt contemplation. Mary Louise's lips shut in a tight line. She turned away from the pair in distaste. But just then a light step sounded and her feeling was diverted. Zenie did not hear the advent of another character upon the scene so absorbed was she in holding the centre of the stage. "Think hit's a pritty name, don' you?"
"Boy," said Zenie, and with growing decision, "but hit ain' him I come to see you-all about. No'm. Thank you jes' as much. I jes' aim to tell you I ain' take in no mo' wash. No'm. Zeke he don' want me to take in no mo' wash. No'm." "Zeke!" Miss Susie's snort was very ladylike. "Zeke! and what has Zeke to do with what you want to do?" "We'se ma'ied, ain' we, Mis' Susie?"
Zenie eyed her uncertainly. "Here. Here's something to keep out the cold next winter. And you oughtn't to bring it out in such rainy weather." She went to the door and held it open in all finality. And Zenie, with much secret and inner scorning for a ritual so antiquated and a gift so obsolete, could do naught but depart.
The odour was symbolical of hot suppers, and summer's passing, and home, and warmth, and cheer. She tipped Zeke a quarter even before he lugged her trunk through the kitchen door, and then she went briskly in. "Supper ready, Zenie?" she called. Zenie turned slowly around and looked at her from the biscuit board. She smiled wearily. "No'm. Not jes' yet it ain'. Terectly."
"Mis' Susie in?" she ventured, after a careful survey of the room had assured her that such was not probable. And her care, relaxed for the moment, allowed the corner of the shawl to fall from the bundle in her arms, which forthwith set up a remote wailing, feeble and muffled, though determined. Mary Louise raised a skeptic eyebrow at the discredited Zenie.
"All except Zenie," amended Miss Susie. "She's old-fashioned." "Perhaps I'd better be coming back." She stood by the door, musing. Miss Susie reached over for her spectacles. There was an almost imperceptible flash in her eyes. "And be like Zenie?" The shot missed. Mary Louise was turning over many things in her mind.
Mary Louise looked at her watch. It was a quarter past six. She came to a sudden decision. "Zenie," she said. Zenie looked up hopefully. "I guess we'll not be needing you any more after this week." A slow, incredulous look met her. "Yas'm?" "You can go back and look after that husband of yours." "Yas'm? He gettin' erlong all right." "I don't know, Zenie.
Receiving no answer she raised her eyes and beheld Miss Susie, whose critical gaze enveloped her sternly. Zenie dropped her eyes again. "So you've finally decided to show up again, Zenie?" Miss Susie clipped her words off short to everyone. She was a wisp of a woman with little hands as dry and yellow as parchment.
This was irrefutable, but more so the changing viewpoint. Zenie had tasted emancipation. Miss Susie shrugged her shoulders and left the room with short hurried steps. Zenie turned to Mary Louise. "I'm tiahed of the ol' tub. 'Tain' no use my weahin' myself out fu nuthin'. 'Sides, this heah boy a heap o' trubbel." She shook her head doubtfully. Mary Louise disregarded the confidence.
Not a shadow seemed to linger near it. Mary Louise allowed her gaze to travel about the room. In the entire atmosphere of the place was no besmirching suggestion of toil. She returned again to Zenie. The latter was like some tropical flower in full bloom. She began, selecting carefully her ground: "You haven't any place to put your baby, no one to watch him while you work, have you?"
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