Daisy
sorrow. When I seemed a little stronger than usual, Miss Pinshon tried
the multiplication table; and I tried, but the spring of my mind was
for the time broken. All such trials came to an end in such weakness
and weariness, that my governess herself was fain to take the book
from my hands and send me out into the sunshine again.
It was Darry at last who found me one day, and, distressed at my
looks, begged that I would let him bring up my pony. He was so earnest
that I yielded. I got leave, and went to ride. Darry saddled another
horse for himself and went with me. That first ride did not help me
much; but the second time a little tide of life began to steal into my
veins. Darry encouraged and instructed me; and when we came cantering
up to the door of the house, my aunt, who was watching there, cried
out that I had a bit of a tinge in my cheeks, and charged Darry to
bring the horses up every day.
With a little bodily vigour a little strength of mind seemed to come;
a little more power of bearing up against evils, or of quietly
standing under them. After the third time I went to ride, having come
home refreshed, I took my Bible and sat down on the rug before the
fire in my room to read. I had not been able to get comfort in my
Bible all those days; often I had not liked to try. Right and wrong
never met me in more brilliant colours or startling shadows than
within the covers of that book. But to-day, soothed somehow, I went
along with the familiar words as one listens to old music, with the
soothing process going on all along. Right _was_ right, and glorious,
and would prevail some time; and nothing could hinder it. And then I
came to words which I knew, yet which had never taken such hold of me
before.
"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works
and glorify your Father which is in heaven."
"_That_ is what I have to do!" I thought immediately. "That is my
part. That is clear. What _I_ have to do, is to let my light shine.
And if the light shines, perhaps it will fall on something. But what
_I_ have to do, is to shine. God has given me nothing else."
It was a very simple child's thought; but it brought wonderful comfort
with it. Doubtless, I would have liked another part to play. I would
have liked--if I could--to have righted all the wrong in the world; to
have broken every yoke; to have filled every empty house, and built up
a fire on every cold hearth: but that was not what God had given me.
All He had given me, that I could see at the minute, was to shine.
What a little morsel of a light mine was, to be sure!
It was a good deal of a puzzle to me for days after that, _how_ I was
to shine. What could I do? I was a little child: my only duties some
lessons to learn: not much of that, seeing I had not strength for it.
Certainly, I had sorrows to bear; but bearing them well did not seem
to me to come within the sphere of _shining_. Who would know that I
bore them well? And shining is meant to be seen. I pondered the
matter.
"When's Christmas, Miss Daisy?"
Margaret asked this question one morning as she was on her knees
making my fire. Christmas had been so shadowed a point to me in the
distance, I had not looked at it. I stopped to calculate the days.
"It will be two weeks from Friday, Margaret."
"And Friday's to-morrow?" she asked.
"The day after to-morrow. What do you do at Christmas, Margaret? all
the people?"
"There ain't no great doings, Miss Daisy. The people gets four days,
most of 'em."
"Four days--for what?"
"For what they like; they don't do no work, those days."
"And is that all?"
"No, Miss Daisy, 'tain't just all; the women comes up to the
house--it's to the overseer's house now--and every one gets a bowl o'
flour, more or less, 'cordin' to size of family--and a quart of
molasses, and a piece o' pork."
"And what do they do to make the time pleasant?" I asked.
"Some on 'em's raised eggs and chickens; and they brings 'em to the
house and sells 'em; and they has the best dinner. Most times they
gets leave to have a meetin'."
"A prayer-meeting?" I said.
"Laws, no, Miss Daisy! not 'cept it were Uncle Darry and _his_ set.
The others don't make no count of a prayer-meetin'. They likes to have
a white-folks' meetin' and 'joy theirselves."
I thought very much over these statements; and for the next two weeks
bowls of flour and quarts of molasses, as Christmas doings, were mixed
up in my mind with the question, how I was to shine? or rather,
alternated with it; and plans began to turn themselves over and take
shape in my thoughts.
"Margaret," said I, a day or two before Christmas, "can't the people
have those meetings you spoke of without getting leave of Mr.
Edwards?"
"Can't have meetin's, no how!" Margaret replied decidedly.
"But if _I_ wanted to see them, couldn't they, some of them, come
together to see me?"
"To see Miss Daisy! Reckon Miss Daisy do what she like. 'Spect Mass'
Ed'ards let Miss Daisy 'lone!"
I was silent, pondering.
"Maria cook wants to see Miss Daisy bad. She bid me tell Miss Daisy
won't she come down in de kitchen, and see all the works she's a-doin'
for Christmas, and de glorifications?"
"I? I'll come if I can," I answered.
I asked my aunt and got easy leave; and on Christmas eve I went down
to the kitchen. That was the chosen time when Maria wished to see me.
There was an assembly of servants gathered in the room, some from out
of the house. Darry was there; and one or two other fine-looking men
who were his prayer-meeting friends. I supposed they were gathered to
make merry for Christmas eve; but, at any rate, they were all eager to
see me, and looked at me with smiles as gentle as have ever fallen to
my share. I felt it and enjoyed it. The effect was of entering a warm,
genial atmosphere, where grace and good-will were on every side; a
change very noticeable from the cold and careless habit of things
upstairs. And _grace_ is not a misapplied epithet; for these children
of a luxurious and beauty-loving race, even in their bondage, had not
forgotten all traces of their origin. As I went in, I could not help
giving my hand to Darry; and then, in my childish feeling towards
them, and in the tenderness of the Christmas-tide, I could not help
doing the same by all the others who were present. And I remember now
the dignity of mien in some, the frank ease in others, both graceful
and gracious, with which my civility was met. If a few were a little
shy, the rest more than made it up by their welcome of me, and a sort
of politeness which had almost something courtly in it. Darry and
Maria together gave me a seat, in the very centre and glow of the
kitchen light and warmth; and the rest made a half circle around,
leaving Maria's end of the room free for her operations.
The kitchen was all aglow with the most splendid fire of pine knots it
was ever my lot to see. The illumination was such as threw all
gaslights into shade. We were in a great stone-flagged room,
low-roofed, with dark cupboard door; not cheerful, I fancy, in the
mere light of day: but nothing could resist the influence of those
pine-knot flames. Maria herself was a portly fat woman, as far as
possible from handsome; but she looked at me with a whole world of
kindness in her dark face. Indeed, I saw the same kindness more or
less shining out upon me in all the faces there. I cannot tell the
mixed joy and pain that it, and they, gave me. I suppose I showed
little of either, or of anything.
Maria entertained me with all she had. She brought out for my view her
various rich and immense stores of cakes and pies and delicacies for
the coming festival; told me what was good and what I must be sure and
eat; and what would be good for me. And then, when that display was
over, she began to be very busy with beating of eggs in a huge wooden
bowl; and bade Darry see to the boiling of the kettle at the fire;
and sent Jem, the waiter, for things he was to get upstairs; and all
the while talked to me. She and Darry and one or two more talked, but
especially she and Theresa and Jem; while all the rest listened and
laughed and exclaimed, and seemed to find me as entertaining as a
play. Maria was asking me about my own little life and experiences
before I came to Magnolia; what sort of a place Melbourne was, and how
things there differed from the things she and the rest knew and were
accustomed to at the South; and about my old June, who had once been
an acquaintance of hers. Smiling at me the while, between the thrusts
of her curiosity, and over my answers, as if for sheer pleasure she
could not keep grave. The other faces were as interested and as
gracious. There was Pete, tall and very black, and very grave, as
Darry was also. There was Jem, full of life and waggishness, and
bright for any exercise of his wits; and grave shadows used to come
over his changeable face often enough too. There was Margaret, with
her sombre beauty; and old Theresa with her worn old face. I think
there was a certain indescribable reserve of gravity upon them all,
but there was not one whose lips did not part in a white line when
looking at me, nor whose eyes and ears did not watch me with an
interest as benign as it was intent. I had been little while seated
before the kitchen fire of pine knots before I felt that I was in the
midst of a circle of personal friends; and I feel it now, as I look
back and remember them. They would have done much for me, every one.
Meanwhile Maria beat and mixed and stirred the things in her wooden bowl;
and by and by ladled out a glassful of rich-looking, yellow, creamy
froth--I did not know what it was, only it looked beautiful--and
presented it to me.
"Miss Daisy mus' tell Mis' Felissy Maria hain't forgot how to make
it--'spect she hain't, anyhow. Dat's for Miss Daisy's Christmas."
"It's very nice!" I said.
"Reckon it is," was the capable answer.
"Won't you give everybody some, Maria?" For Jem had gone upstairs with
a tray and glasses, and Maria seemed to be resting upon her labours.
"Dere'll come down orders for mo', chile; and 'spose I gives it to de
company, what'll Mis' Lisa do wid Maria? I have de 'sponsibility of
Christmas."
"But you can make some more," I said, holding my glass in waiting.
"Do, Maria."
"'Spose hain't got de 'terials, hey?"
"What do you want? Aunt Gary will give it to you." And I begged Jem to
go up again and prefer my request to her for the new filling of
Maria's bowl. Jem shrugged his shoulders, but he went; and I suppose
he made a good story of it; for he came down with whatever was
wanted--my Aunt Gary was in a mood to refuse me nothing then--and
Maria went anew about the business of beating and mixing and
compounding.
There was great enjoyment in the kitchen. It was a time of high
festival, what with me and the egg supper. Merriment and jocularity, a
little tide-wave of social excitement, swelled and broke on all sides
of me; making a soft ripply play of fun and repartee, difficult to
describe, and which touched me as much as it amused. It was very
unlike the enjoyment of a set of white people holding the same social
and intellectual grade. It was the manifestation of another race, less
coarse and animal in their original nature, more sensitive and more
demonstrative, with a strange touch of the luxurious and refined for
a people whose life has had nothing to do with luxury, and whom
refinement leaves on one side as quite beyond its sphere. But blood is
a strange thing; and Ham's children will show luxurious and aesthetic
tastes, take them where you will.
"Chillen, I hope you's enjoyed your supper," Maria said, when the last
lingering drops had been secured, and mugs and glasses were coming
back to the kitchen table.