Daisy
very well a little while longer. I insisted that it was not
_comfortable_. It was cold.
"Sun warm, Miss Daisy. De good Lord, He make His sun warm. And dere be
fires enough."
"But it is very empty," I said. "You want something more in it, to
make it look nice."
"It never empty, Miss Daisy, when de Lord Hisself be here. And He not
leave His chil'n alone. Miss Daisy know dat?"
I stretched forth my little hand and laid it in Darry's great black
palm. There was an absolute confidence established between us.
"Uncle Darry," I said, "I _do_ love Him--but sometimes, I want to see
papa!----"
And therewith my self-command was almost gone. I stood with full eyes
and quivering lips, my hand still in Darry's, who on his part was
speechless with sympathy.
"De time pass quick, and Miss Daisy see her pa'," he said at last.
I did not think the time passed quick. I said so.
"Do little missie ask de Lord for help?" Darry said, his eyes by this
time as watery as mine. "Do Miss Daisy know, it nebber lonesome where
de Lord be? He so good."
I could not stand any more. I pulled away my hand and stood still,
looking out of the window and seeing nothing, till I could make myself
quiet. Then I changed the subject and told Darry I should like to go
and see some of the other houses again. I know now, I can see, looking
back, how my childish self-control and reserve made some of those
impulsive natures around me regard me with something like worshipful
reverence. I felt it then, without thinking of it or reasoning about
it. From Darry, and from Margaret, and from Mammy Theresa, and from
several others, I had a loving, tender reverence, which not only felt
for me as a sorrowful child, but bowed before me as something of
higher and stronger nature than themselves. Darry silently attended
me now from house to house of the quarters; introducing and explaining
and doing all he could to make my progress interesting and amusing.
Interested I was; but most certainly not amused. I did not like the
look of things any better than I had done at first. The places were
not "nice;" there was a coarse, uncared-for air of everything within,
although the outside was in such well-dressed condition. No litter on
the grass, no untidiness of walls or chimneys; and no seeming of
comfortable homes when the door was opened. The village, for it
amounted to that, was almost deserted at that hour; only a few
crooning old women on the sunny side of a wall, and a few half-grown
girls, and a quantity of little children, depending for all the care
they got upon one or the other of these.
"Haven't all these little babies got mothers!" I asked.
"For sure, Miss Daisy--dey's got modders."
"Where _are_ the mothers of all these babies, Darry?" I asked.
"Dey's in de field, Miss Daisy. Home d'rectly."
"Are they working like _men_ in the fields!" I asked.
"Dey's all at work," said Darry.
"Do they do the same work as the men?"
"All alike, Miss Daisy." Darry's answers were not hearty.
"But don't their little babies want them?" said I, looking at a group
of girls in whose hands were some very little babies indeed. I think
Darry made me no answer.
"But if the men and women both work out," I went on, "papa must give
them a great deal of money; I should think they would have things more
comfortable, Darry. Why don't they have little carpets, and tables and
chairs, and cups and saucers? Hardly anybody has teacups and saucers.
Have _you_ got any, Uncle Darry?"
"'Spect I'se no good woman to brew de tea for her ole man," said
Darry; but I thought he looked at me very oddly.
"Couldn't you make it for yourself, Uncle Darry?"
"Poor folks don't live just like de rich folks," he answered, quietly,
after a minute's pause. "And I don't count fur to want no good t'ing,
missie."
I went on with my observations; my questions I thought I would not
push any further at that time. I grew more and more dissatisfied, that
my father's work-people should live in no better style and in no
better comfort. Even Molly Skelton had a furnished and appointed
house, compared with these little bare stone huts; and mothers that
would leave their babies for the sake of more wages, must, I thought,
be very barbarous mothers. This was all because, no doubt, of having
no church and no Bible. I grew weary. As we were going up the dell
towards the stables, I suddenly remembered my pony; and I asked to see
him.
Darry was much relieved, I fancy, to have me come back to a child's
sphere of action. He had out the fat little grey pony, and talked it
over to me with great zeal. It came into my head to ask for a saddle.
"Dere be a saddle," Darry said, doubtfully. "Massa Preston he done got
a saddle dis very day. Dunno where Massa Preston can be."
I did not heed this. I begged to have the saddle and be allowed to try
the pony. Now Preston had laid a plan that nobody but himself should
have the pleasure of first mounting me; but I did not know of this
plan. Darry hesitated, I saw, but he had not the power to refuse me.
The saddle was brought out, put on, and carefully arranged.
"Uncle Darry, I want to get on him--may I?"
"O' course--Miss Daisy do what she mind to. Him bery good, only some
lazy."
So I was mounted. Preston, Miss Pinshon, the servants' quarters, the
multiplication table, all were forgotten and lost in a misty distance. I
was in the saddle for the first time, and delight held me by both hands.
My first moment on horseback! If Darry had guessed it he would have been
terribly concerned; but as it happened, I knew how to take my seat; I had
watched my mother so often mounting her horse that every detail was
familiar to me; and Darry naturally supposed I knew what I was about
after I was in my seat. The reins were a little confusing; however, the
pony walked off lazily with me to the head of the glen, and I thought he
was an improvement upon the old pony chaise. Finding myself coming out
upon the avenue, which I did not wish, it became necessary to get at the
practical use of the bridle. I was at some pains to do it; finally I
managed to turn the pony's head round, and we walked back in the same
sober style we had come up. Darry stood by the stables, smiling and
watching me; down among the quarters the children and old people turned
out to look after me; I walked down as far as Darry's house, turned and
came back again. Darry stood ready to help me to dismount; but it was too
pleasant. I went on to the avenue. Just as I turned there, I caught, as
it seemed to me, a glimpse of two ladies, coming towards me from the
house. Involuntarily I gave a sharper pull at the bridle, and I suppose
touched the pony's shoulder with the switch Darry had put into my hand.
The touch so woke him up, that he shook off his laziness and broke into a
short galloping canter to go back to the stables. This was a new
experience. I thought for the first minute that I certainly should be
thrown off; I seemed to have no hold of anything, and I was tossed up and
down on my saddle in the way that boded a landing on the ground every
next time.
I was not timid with animals, whatever might be true of me in other
relations. My first comfort was finding that I did _not_ fall off;
then I took heart and settled myself in the saddle more securely, gave
myself to the motion, and began to think I should like it by and by.
Nevertheless, for this time I was willing to stop at the stables; but
the pony had only just found how good it was to be moving, and he went
by at full canter. Down the dell, through the quarters, past the
cottages, till I saw Darry's house ahead of me, and began to think how
I _should_ get round again. At that pace I could not. Could I stop the
fellow? I tried, but there was not much strength in my arms; one or
two pulls did no good, and one or two pulls more did no good; pony
cantered on, and I saw we were making straight for the river. I knew
that I _must_ stop him; I threw so much good-will into the handling of
my reins that, to my joy, the pony paused, let himself be turned about
placidly, and took up his leisurely walk again. But now I was in a
hurry, wanting to be dismounted before anybody should come; and I was
a little triumphant, having kept my seat and turned my horse.
Moreover, the walk was not good after that stirring canter. I would
try it again. But it took a little earnestness now and more than one
touch of my whip before the pony would mind me. Then he obeyed in good
style and we cantered quietly up to where Darry was waiting. The thing
was done. The pony and I had come to an understanding. I was a rider
from that time, without fear or uncertainty. The first gentle pull on
the bridle was obeyed and I came to a stop in front of Darry and my
cousin Preston.
I have spent a great deal of time to tell of my ride. Yet not more
than its place in my life then deserved. It was my last half hour of
pleasure for I think many a day. I had cantered up the slope, all
fresh in mind and body, excited and glad with my achievement and with
the pleasure of brisk motion; I had forgotten everybody and everything
disagreeable, or what I did not forget I disregarded; but just before
I stopped I saw what sent another thrill than that of pleasure
tingling through all my veins. I saw Preston, who had but a moment
before reached the stables, I saw him lift his hand with a light
riding switch he carried, and drew the switch across Darry's mouth. I
shall never forget the coloured man's face, as he stepped back a pace
or two. I understood it afterwards; I _felt_ it then. There was no
resentment; there was no fire of anger, which I should have expected;
there was no manly and no stolid disregard of what had been done.
There was instead a slight smile, which to this day I cannot bear to
recall; it spoke so much of patient and helpless humiliation; as of
one wincing at the galling of a sore and trying not to show he winced.
Preston took me off my horse, and began to speak. I turned away from
him to Darry, who now held two horses, Preston having just dismounted;
and I thanked him for my pleasure, throwing into my manner all the
studied courtesy I could. Then I walked up the dell beside Preston,
without looking at him.
Preston scolded. He had prepared a surprise for me, and was excited by
his disappointment at my mounting without him. Of course I had not
known that; and Darry, who was in the secret, had not known how to
refuse. I gave Preston no answer to his charges and reproaches. At
last I said I was tired and I wished he would not talk.
"Tired! you are something besides tired," he said.
"I suppose I am," I answered with great deliberation.
He was eager to know what it was; but then we came out upon the avenue
and were met flush by my aunt and Miss Pinshon. My aunt inquired, and
Preston, who was by no means cool yet, accused me about the doings of
the afternoon. I scarcely heeded one or the other; but I did feel Miss
Pinshon's taking my hand and leading me home all the rest of the way.
It was not that I wanted to talk to Preston, for I was not ready to
talk to him; but this holding me like a little child was excessively
distasteful to my habit of freedom. My governess would not loose her
clasp when we got to the house; but kept fast hold and led me upstairs
to my own room.
CHAPTER IV.
SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE.
"Do you think that was a proper thing to do, Daisy?" my governess
asked when she released me.
"What thing, ma'am?" I asked.
"To tear about on that great grey pony."
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"You think it _was_ proper?" said Miss Pinshon, coolly. "Whom had you
with you?"
"Nobody was riding with me."
"Your cousin was there?"
"No, ma'am."
"Who then?"
"I had Uncle Darry. I was only riding up and down the dell."