Black Sadie/Part 1

Black Sadie's father was hanged several months before she was born. Lightfoot Mose died on the gallows for raping an old white woman. He descried her one evening in her cowshed milking her cow. It was an easy matter for him to throttle her. Two hours later the sheriff caught Mose hiding in the high pokeweeds behind Aunt Nancy Ritchie's cabin, and in a brief time Mose found himself in jail. His victim exhibited to all the proper authorities the two blue handprints on her scraggly neck well down towards the shoulders. In a day or so she got out of bed and occupied herself with her usual domestic duties.

Nevertheless Lightfoot Mose was condemned to be hanged. He quite enjoyed the publicity incident to the trial. The notoriety was a distinction. The courtroom was filled with all his colored friends and acquaintance, and the white people made much of the occasion too. Mose was pleased and gratified at the amount of attention he got. But Mose's ​hanging was private. He regretted that. It seemed an anticlimax. His friends regretted it too, So did, the Ritchie family, though Mose did not belong to their clan save by a most brief liaison with one of Aunt Nancy's daughters. Ella Ritchie, quick to assume importance, disclosed the fact that she was with child and that 'Mr. Mose' had been her friend and was responsible for her condition. She bragged about it up and down the neighborhood.

Old Nancy thereupon conceived it devolved upon her to administer a public beating to her wayward daughter. The kin and acquaintance of the family would expect some demonstration, and it would be timely as an extra flourish to the already pleasing importance of the family. A gratifyingly large number of people assembled at the sound of Nancy's rich imprecations. But Unc' Amos interposed between the angry negress and the girl. Aunt Nancy was foiled. She flung down her broomstick, struck an attitude, and delivered a peroration suitable to the occasion. She wished all and sundry to understand that the Scripture proved her magnanimity in sparing Ella a castigation. In this case it little behooved her to cast the first stone, or, as it happened to be, ​a broomstick, at the guilty one, because . . . and she decorated aptly the account of the woman taken in adultery in the Gospel. Two of Nancy's own sons, Beau Jim and Lucky Andrew, were themselves illegitimate. Nancy regretted that no one had ever been hanged for her glory and distinction. Some even tarried in the penumbra of her favor to subsist on viands of her providing, though if the bounty were traced to its source it would be found to come from the rich opportunities of Ole Miss's kitchen, where Nancy flourished as cook in ordinary.

Mose was converted in the jail. As he walked to the gallows, he ruminated with pride on the unprecedented glory of his approaching obsequies. After the hanging, everybody went to the funeral at Shiloh Baptist Church. Ella went too, supported on the arm and bosom of her affectionate mother. They were accorded places with the chief mourners. Both women wailed and lamented with becoming vigor and importance. That was consoling to all. At appropriate climaxes Ella fainted dead away, and Nancy called on heaven to witness the justice of her cause. But in fact the congregation witnessed to Ella's perceptibly enlarging form.

​Five months later Black Sadie was born. Ella died at the same time. Aunt Nancy wrapped the inky morsel of humanity in red flannel rags and deposited her in Ole Miss's empty clothes-basket. Ella was laid out on the ironing-board propped on two chairs. Everybody came to see. She was a fine sight with twenty-five-cent pieces on her eyes and patent-leather shoes on her feet. Ole Miss gave the shoes to Nancy from Mr. Tom's closet. Nancy was proud. The Ritchie family felt sated with importance. The funeral was Sunday afternoon.

Black Sadie had convulsions. Even at six weeks old she was manifestly destined to fame . . . a hanged father, a dead mother, convulsions. The Ritchie household was greatly upset. Unc' Amos shifted his 'buck-eye hoss-ches'nut' from the right hip pocket to the left to change the 'luck.' Aunt Thorry (a collapsed form of Dorothy) advised 'medicine,' vaguely. Queer Sister sat on the edge of the woodbox laughing uproariously. But Aunt Nancy rendered rabbit fat and oiled the infant. Black Sadie pulled through.

She got her teeth later, not without effort on her part and sharp reprimand from those ​whose slumbers were disturbed by her wails. Sleeping quarters at Aunt Nancy's were congested at best. Beau Jim, perhaps to brazen out his own questionable origin, threatened to throw the bastard brat out in the cornfield. Aunt Thorry guffawed at this humorous subtlety, while Unc' Amos, peering down from his sleeping accommodations in the loft, observed that 'God would judge.' The teething was a severe test of the family loyalty to Ella's baby. When it was safely over, it was plain that Black Sadie's position in the family was sound beyond a doubt. Innocent babe, her personality scored a triumph over the inimically disposed elders of the Ritchie clan.

When Sadie was five, Lucky Andrew gave her two two-cent pieces he had come by in a crap game. Unc' Amos bored holes in them and Aunt Thorry strung the coins on bits of silver wire to make earrings. She twitched and pinched the lobes of Black Sadie's ears till they tingled and lost all feeling; then she punctured them with a large needle and inserted waxed thread in the holes to keep them open. When the perforations healed, she adorned the little pickaninny with the dangling copper ornaments. Sadie ​was very proud of them. She shook her head continually to feel the delightful weight of the two-cent pieces. The arrogant oscillations made Queer Sister jealous. It was delicious to elude the clumsy idiot girl by dexterous runs and dives.

Once in two weeks Aunt Nancy combed out Sadie's nappy hair. It was kinky, abundant, obstinate. Aunt Nancy pinioned the reluctant child between vicelike knees, arms immovable, legs helpless, and then she divided the scalp into a great number of small squares, gathered up the wool in each into tiny, tight plaits. Each plait she bound with bits of red or white twine. The result had the appearance of a small cocoanut stuck all over with spines. Black Sadie wriggled and wept throughout the ordeal, but when the travail was over, she admired exceedingly the elegant coiffure. It was a work of art and a marvel.

Aunt Nancy was cook for Ole Miss at the big house. It was a lucrative position for her. Ole Miss was very kind, and she shut her eyes to Nancy's many shortcomings and predatory ways. Peace is a valuable asset in any household. Ole Miss gave simple orders in the pantry, but she kept a blind eye for the kitchen. ​Nancy ruled and occupied entirely her own domain.

Aunt Nancy promised Black Sadie daily lodgment in the kitchen when she came to six years old. But before that day arrived, Ole Miss had already encountered little Black Sadie. The meeting was very embarrassing for both. They felt the strain in wholly different ways. It was summer. Sadie cooled her toes in the trickle of water in the gutter in front of her home. Ole Miss came by, walking slowly on the high plank walk above the street. Her black silk skirts made a charming sound about her well-shod heels. Sadie wore a single calico shift, much soiled with grease and drippings from her infantile nostrils. When she saw Ole Miss, high and grand and terrifying, on the walkway above her, she lifted the shift to cover her embarrassed head. That was all of little Black Sadie that was covered. Three small males, also in the gutter, became hilarious at the sight and uttered many cutting and apposite remarks. When Ole Miss got home, she spoke sharply to Nancy and gave her an old chemise with peremptory orders to make drawers for her granddaughter. Thus Sadie's wardrobe began and her vanity enlarged at the ​same time. Drawers have a genuine psychic importance.

Aunt Thorry had a daughter. Her name was Quecene (an attractive vocalization caught by Nancy's ear from frequent remarks of Ole Miss relative to the housekeeping). Quecene was seventeen years old when Black Sadie turned five. She was very proud. Black Sadie admired her august cousin, but she worshiped from afar. Quecene rarely deigned to admit the fact of Sadie's existence; when she did so condescend the recognition was apt to be violent and quite unpleasant for Sadie.

Quecene was a good laundress. She served in that capacity to Ole Miss's household. On Monday mornings she carried home the huge bundle of bed and table linen balanced like a vast turban on her head, and the hamper of sundries she supported with one hand while Nancy's twelve-year-old Dave grasped the handle on the other side. On Friday nights the wash was returned to the big house. The intervening days of the week afforded Quecene many leisure opportunities to disport herself in such items of wearing apparel as pleased her fancy. Mr. Tom's collars gave quite a distinguished finish to her own gingham shirt-waists.

​Sadie often contrived bundles of rags and clothes and practiced carrying them on her head after the fashion of Quecene with the mountainous turban of wash. Aunt Thorry delighted in this infantile mimicry. She previsaged in Sadie a competent laundress and said as much. The game entertained Queer Sister also. But Quecene considered it impertinent and offensive. If she caught the little nigger at it, she smacked her face. Tears, upbraidings, sulking pouts followed such scenes, the different emotions appropriate to the reactions of the several persons concerned.

Once, on Thursday, Quecene had finished the wash for the week, all but ironing the sheets. They still flapped drying on the line. The day was very cold, so cold that it made Sadie think of snow. She went out in the back yard to observe the condition of the sky. But the sky was crystal clear. There was no chance of snow. Sadie's preoccupation with the thought became entangled with the sight of the vast white sheets billowing in the wind. Spread out on the earth they would look just like snow. It was an intriguing, provocative idea. Sadie generously gave one glance toward the cabin door as if to give Quecene at least ​one sporting chance to interfere, but that worthy's star was at the moment in eclipse. Very quickly Sadie tore down all the sheets and the ground was soon white with an excellent semblance of snow. Sadie romped riotously over the drifts. It was most exhilarating. She was wholly unprepared for the sudden and furious arrival of Quecene. That unreasonable and irate person threatened scalding water and a red-hot poker.

Sadie fled before the tempest. She made her way straight to Ole Miss's kitchen and the cover of Aunt Nancy's capacious authority and power. She blubbered out a tragic story of Quecene's unwarrantable wrath and was appeased with baked sweet potato and Aunt Nancy's threats 'to wallop 'at yaller gal fer hollerin' at my chile.' Here Beau Jim discovered Sadie, when he arrived at dark 'to see Ma home.' He said that Quecene still cursed and wept, vowing vengeance, and that Aunt Thorry 'had a spell' because she thought Black Sadie was lost in Bollin's woods. Under double protection and with determined resolves forming in her thin breast, Black Sadie walked meekly home between Aunt Nancy and Beau Jim. 'She shan't tetch yer,' said Aunt Nancy. 'I'll bash in her haid,' said Beau Jim.

​Thenceforward, every day, Black Sadie accompanied Aunt Nancy to the kitchen at the big house. She sat in the big, smoky place throughout the day, connecting her small person with delectable viands that came her way from time to time. At evening Aunt Nancy would give her a small pail to 'tote,' and she would go home under the immediate escort of her protectress and Beau Jim, or Lucky Andrew, followed by Dave, or one of the other boys. After many weeks Quecene forgot her grudge. Safety and calm became again the portion of the small black child. But the precedent of spending the days in Ole Miss's kitchen was established, and Black Sadie had no mind to break the custom.

Ole Miss was aware of the fact that Nancy largely fed her tribe from the big house larder. She sometimes saw the procession of Ritchies wending its way at evening, homeward bound, each member but half concealing a comestible burden. But Ole Miss was wise. She reminded herself of the Pauline doctrine that where there is no law there is no sin. So charity abounded, and much provender changed hands undesignated as stolen food.

Aunt Nancy soon grew accustomed to hav​ing Sadie with her. She sat quiet and inoffensive in the shadows by the biscuit block. After a while she really enjoyed the child's companionship. She was a more desirable auditor than the cat for her varied remarks and reflections, though Sadie herself rarely said a word. She found her useful also for running errands between the house and the kitchen, and Sadie gained the approbation of Ole Miss by holding things for Aunt Nancy when that personage repaired every morning to the storeroom door to receive the quota of supplies for the day.

One day Ole Miss placed aside on a platter a pound or two of hard, fresh butter. Later she turned to cut off some for Nancy's cooking ration. The butter was nowhere to be seen. Where had it gone? The gaze of Ole Miss came to rest on Sadie. The abdomen of that minute person was unduly protuberous. Sadie supported its bulging weight with both hands. But the butter was already well beyond control. The front of Sadie's calico dress grew dark and oily with the melting grease. It oozed through the thin fabric of the garment, surrounding the clutching fingers; it flowed sluggishly in thick yellow blobs down Sadie's ​spindling black legs. Ole Miss said that Sadie must never come to the storeroom again. She was shocked and surprised that she should have stolen butter and hidden it under her dress. Aunt Nancy was shocked and surprised, too, but her mortification lay in shame for Sadie's maladroit maneuver and the detection. True Ritchies were never caught. Black Sadie wept beside the biscuit block disgraced.

The sad event solicited the notice and chagrin of Miss Belle. She felt sorry for Sadie and wished to do her good. It was very sad that the black people grew up without instruction in right principles and noble ideals. Miss Belle thought Sadie ought to be guided and instructed. For her a knowledge between good and evil seemed an immediate necessity. So Miss Belle constituted herself preceptress.

Miss Belle was Ole Miss's maiden daughter, no longer quite young. She clung to the fancies and fashions of her girlhood and wore bunches of sandy curls over each ear and a waterfall behind. She supported basques and gores, and her sleeves were called 'mutton-leg.' Miss Belle practiced gavottes and études on the square piano in the parlor for an hour every afternoon. On Sundays she played hymns and ​sang them in a thin but not unmusical soprano. She had a little work-table constructed of willow sticks. The bark was still on, and the tops, where they had been sawed off, were elegantly gilded. The arrangement of the sticks was most artistically haphazard. A band of red ribbon girdled the table's irrational middle, and wicker pockets hung over the sides. In them Miss Belle kept her 'work.'

At this little work-table, every day after the episode of the butter, Sadie sat on one side and Miss Belle on the other while she gave the little negress lessons. She taught her to know the letters and to spell by syllables . . . a-b AB, e-b EB, i-b IB, o-b OB, u-b UB, and so on. Miss Belle taught Sadie to count, to tell the time on the face of a clock, to read the days and seasons on the calendar, and to embroider daisies on a piece of red silk. She read a chapter in the Bible every morning and explained to Sadie about heaven. Sadie already knew a good deal about hell. She had learned it from the conversations of her elder kith and kin when they were angry.

Instructions continued for two years. Black Sadie maintained the outward mien of docile though nondescript pupil. But she learned to ​read and to cipher. She could also repeat from memory 'Once in Royal David's City' and 'I Think When I Read That Sweet Story of Old,' and Miss Belle hoped that the day would come when she would be able to remember the words of the collects in the Prayer Book. Sadie could say 'Our Father' with her hands folded and her eyes shut. On the whole she was a creditable pupil. Miss Belle felt pleased with her.

But now and then small objects of no great value disappeared from tray or pincushion on Miss Belle's bureau . . . a pin, a cuff-link, a small tortoise-shell comb, and such like. Miss Belle would be grieved, but she would not despair. She thought it wiser not to tax Sadie with pilfering, but to try to turn her heart and waken her conscience by gentle and loving instruction. Sadie liked the gentleness and love, while she appreciated the opportunities for enlarging her possessions. The instruction did not seem in her eyes quite necessary or profitable, but she never allowed it to disturb her soul or cloud the demure aspect of her countenance.

In the spring each year, Ole Miss, a shawl over her head and her square, leather key-​basket on her arm, busied herself out-of-doors. She superintended Unc' Roes in the garden, or on the lawns, or attended to the setting of her hens. There was much to be done in the dark of the moon in March. In the garden, the tubers of all sorts had to be planted, the garden squares ploughed, and the asparagus bed burned off; the lawns must be raked and the flower beds prepared for planting; all the chickens had to be kerosened under their wings and on top of their heads on each side of the red combs. In the house, all the beds were dismantled. A feather, dipped in a concoction of oil, salt, and poison, was drawn firmly along the jointures of the bedsteads and down the seams and around the leather rosettes of the mattresses. These ceremonies and precautions were never omitted. Ole Miss directed them all.

One day Ole Miss ordered the annual holocaust of the asparagus bed. For weeks Unc' Roes had dragged brushwood, rakings from the lawn, empty barrels and boxes from the cellars, all the litter of the place, and piled up the asparagus bed ready for the burning. At the fiat for fire Black Sadie thrilled with delight. She wished ardently to help, but she was ​too shy to make herself conspicuous and her tactics were never obtrusive in any private undertaking of her own. In this instance she followed Unc' Roes at a distance into the garden and waited beside the gate while he went to fetch his rake with which to control the fallings from the fire. He had put a long piece of twisted paper and a box of matches on the scantling of the garden fence. Black Sadie saw him lay them there. Sadie eyed the tempting combustibles. She waited a long time for Unc' Roes's return. He delayed aggravatingly. Sadie conceived the thought of hastening matters by just kindling the fire herself. A blazing fire was the immediate object of her soul. She was not quite sure where or what the asparagus bed was, but she saw a stand of high dead grass in the bottom of the garden below the grape arbors. It would make a lovely fire. Sadie assured herself that the grass lot could be no other than the asparagus bed. The question settled to her satisfaction, she lit her torch and proceeded to apply it.

The fire in the high grass was an unexpected surprise. A great many people came to see. They trampled down the newly turned garden plots and the flower beds on the lawn. Several ​panels of paling fence were destroyed, but the carriage house and the gentlemen's privy (cryptically called 'Number Ten') behind it were saved from the flames. Fighting the fire was very exciting. Black Sadie danced with joy when the ancient carriage, unused for many years, came rolling out of the big doors to a safe place in the yard. Sadie put down the steps of the carriage and climbed in. She sat on the driver's box and played 'driving' the rest of the afternoon.

When the fire was over and Ole Miss was drinking sangaree to restore her nerves, Unc' Roes committed a tactical blunder. It deflected the normal development of his career, eliminating him from that sphere of the industrial world in which until this time he had every reason to suppose himself a part. He came to Ole Miss and said, 'Now, Miss, mus' I burn dat sparry-grass bed?' It was more than Ole Miss could endure after the alarms and dangers of the afternoon. She also blamed her gardener for the fire, no one having sufficient information to enlighten her to the contrary. 'Roes, I will pay you your wages and you may leave my employ. I cannot trust you at all.' So Unc' Roes moved the same evening from his ​room over the stable at Ole Miss's to a lean-to at Aunt Nancy's cabin. He complained of 'rheumatiz' and 'misery' to account for the reversal of his fortunes. He himself was much too mystified as to the origin of the fire to lay the blame on anybody. He felt so discouraged that he never sought for work again, but settled down into an indigent old age on Nancy's bounty. Black Sadie was very sorry for Unc' Roes. He seemed so sad.

In the early months of the summer Ole Miss's hens strutted forth surrounded by flocks of yellow chicks. Black Sadie loved them dearly. At feeding-time she was allowed to throw the soft mushy food through the slats of the feeding-coops. The fluffy little fowls ran in and out pecking up the food, the mother hens clucked pompously on the outside. Once a large dominica matron, a quarrelsome, irritable fowl, took offense at Sadie's too close attentions to her brood. She flew up in the child's face with a furious onslaught. Black Sadie screamed with terror. Ole Miss called loudly for help. Aunt Nancy came to the rescue. Ole Miss ordered the irate dominica to be slain then and there and her brood to be distributed amongst the flocks of less belliger​ent mothers. It was done. Sadie was appeased and helped to pluck the carcass of her enemy. It was not good for much, being very tough and thin after the brooding. Aunt Nancy saved the breast feathers for a pillow. The two wings were spread out and fastened down by heavy flatirons. Ole Miss said Sadie might have one for a fan.

By July or August the chickens were large enough to broil or fry. Every day Aunt Nancy cut off the heads of several of the likeliest. The execution came as complete surprise to the chickens, who had hitherto fancied themselves as the highly privileged among fowls. As at the hatching, so at the death, Black Sadie was on hand to assist. When the axe fell, she leapt with nervous glee well out of range of the convulsive plunges of the headless victims. Later she gathered up all the heads, pulled open the soft yellow eyelids, and poked straws down the beaks. The ends of the straws stuck out of the severed gullets.

But Ole Miss's chickens fascinated others than Sadie in the Ritchie family. Sadie found them satisfactory enough alive or dead on the premises of the big house, but Aunt Nancy had a fancy for carrying them home to her cabin. ​Unc' Roes, now a permanent pensioner in the cabin, and Unc' Amos liked fried chicken. Obviously they had to eat something. What better than chicken? Even Queer Sister showed an epicurean discernment between chicken and less succulent viands. Under protection of stormy nights, Lucky Andrew and Beau Jim also obeyed a cosmic urge for chicken-stealing. They made successful visits to the hen roost at the big house. Black Sadie exulted in these nocturnal triumphs. Late at night, when she heard the fall of the cover on the box behind the stove where the booty was confined, she would think of the drop of the gallows trap, which she had repeatedly heard foretold as the doom for which the boys were destined. In the morning she would peep through the cracks at the captured chickens and whisper: 'Ya'll soon be daid. Oh-yo!'

Ole Miss had a grandson. His name was Mr. Tom. His mother was dead and his father was a ne'er-do-well who had run away. Mr. Tom lived with his grandmother and his aunt, Miss Belle. The day he was twenty-one Ole Miss gave him a buggy. It had rubber-tired, yellow wheels. The whip flaunted a bright red ribbon. ​When Mr. Tom drove out in his buggy, he wore a straw hat in the summertime and a derby in the winter; a linen robe covered his knees in the one season and a frayed bearskin in the other. He used to take young ladies of his acquaintance for the air.

Black Sadie considered Mr. Tom a paragon of men. She admired his person and she admired his elegant clothes. 'Poor Tom has a race-track taste in dress,' sighed Ole Miss at his flashy wardrobe. 'Ain't he jes' gran'?' said Aunt Nancy, when he passed under the kitchen window. Black Sadie sometimes found opportunities, when Mr. Tom was gone and Ole Miss slept on the library sofa and Miss Belle practiced on the piano, to steal up to his room and, hiding behind the half-closed closet door, try on the tan shoes with the cloth tops and the shiny row of buttons down the sides. The shoes were far too big for Sadie, but she gloried in the roomy elegance. Sometimes she would even venture outside the stuffy closet into the vaster freedom of the room. Here she would make a stealthy peregrination, sliding her feet around with a skating motion and admiring herself in the oblique pier-glass between the windows.

Often when Mr. Tom drove out of the yard, ​Black Sadie would run behind the yellow-wheeled buggy to close the gate after him. Once she did not return immediately to Aunt Nancy and the kitchen. She tarried at the gate to see Mr. Tom drive past with the lady of the day. She pushed her small person well out of sight under the beetling hedge and sat down on a stone. Presently the buggy came, rolling down the road. Beside Mr. Tom jounced Miss Flora Lee, holding a green silk parasol at a bewitching angle over her shoulder. Sadie darted out from her hiding-place to follow the flashing yellow wheels. She caught hold of the box at the back and swung her feet clear of the ground. The vehicle carried her forward fast as the wind. Sadie could feel the ticklish draughts about her legs. She hoisted herself into the box. The buggy drove on for miles. Sadie grew tired and drowsy. She lay down on the floor and was soon asleep. She was awakened by a scream. It was Miss Flora Lee. Sadie was discovered. Mr. Tom was furious. They drove back to town, Sadie standing up in the box and holding on to the back of the seat. Mr. Tom would not speak a word. Miss Flora Lee laughed a great deal and asked Sadie many pointed questions.

​'If you damned little snotty coon ever climb in my buggy again,' swore Mr. Tom to Sadie, when he got her by herself, 'I'll horsewhip the livin' hide off you. I don't want to ever see you in my grandma's kitchen again either. So get out and go home.'

Mr. Tom had exacted from Ole Miss the promise of Sadie's banishment as some slight satisfaction for the humiliating wrongs suffered at her' hands. And Ole Miss was stern in her complaint to Nancy about Sadie's unprecedented behavior, but Ole Miss and Miss Belle laughed merrily over the affair, unknown to Mr. Tom or Sadie. Nevertheless Sadie had to depart from the kitchen at the big house. Aunt Nancy grumbled in private, but she did not protest the mandate. She said: ''Tain't fer long,' and, 'Jess you wait.' But Black Sadie felt that life was over.

Black Sadie was now eight years old. Dave and Kiddo and Joe, three male relatives of indefinable kinship, received her into their company. They ranged the fields and woods together, wild and impudent and provocative. They gathered birds' nests, pilfered fruit from orchards, stoned the cattle, and thrust sticks ​and sods into springs. They gathered poke-berries to make paint and medicine. With the paint, they scrawled Repent on white board fences; the medicine was forcibly administered to Aunt Thorry's tame crow. The crow died. In the autumn nuts were plentiful, chestnuts and chinquapins. Sadie hoarded her gatherings, boiled them in a tin can, and strung them into lengthy necklaces. From these edible ornaments she fed at frequent intervals of time and space.

The neighborhood of Aunt Nancy's home boasted an ancient tomcat, wild and ferocious, the lover and sire of most of the cabin pussies, and the implacable enemy of all the feline males. He bore tattered ears and many scars to mark his prowess and prestige. He lived everywhere and nowhere. One summer's day, Dave proposed the capture of this redoubtable beast and his summary execution. Black Sadie kindled to the scheme because she previsaged a sumptuous funeral afterwards. She would be chief mourner and exhibit many hidden talents for grief. Dave captured a sparrow and tied him in a box placed under the cabin window. 'Dat Cat' with lashing tail and slobbering jaws was quickly lured by this ​tender bait. He sprang into the box. In an instant, Dave let fall a heavy board and leapt through the window to secure by his weight the lid of his improvised trap. The enraged and terrified animal plunged furiously against the sides of his cage. Joe quickly nailed down the board on which Dave sat, and 'Dat Cat' was a prisoner.

A procession formed to convey the prize to death. Dave and Joe went first carrying the trap; Kiddo and Sadie waltzed excitedly behind. The place of execution was a pool in a stream at the edge of the woods, but Aunt Thorry and Quecene were seen to be washing linen in the pool, so the children turned away.

'Les put 'im under de cyars,' they said, and directed their steps towards the railway.

At the top of a high cutting they awaited the coming of a train, intending to pitch the crate with the cat in it down the steep side of the cutting under the wheels of the cars. A snarling coal train approached. As it crashed by, the three boys heaved the box down the steep declivity of the cutting. It burst violently asunder and 'Dat Cat' sprang nimbly away down the side of the track, leaving with supreme sangfroid three astonished little ne​groes perched high up on the extreme edge of the cutting.

With the escape of the cat life seemed dull. It was then that they conceived the idea of 'hookin' a ride'; at least Dave and Joe did. Kiddo and Sadie quailed at the thought of boarding a moving train. But all four of them discussed the question of ways and means. 'Dey goes by kinder slow here,' said Dave, ''cause hit's up-grade. It 'ud be jess as easy to hook on.'

In about an hour another train rolled pompously up the track. Dave and Joe awaited it, crouching like young panthers in the gutter of the cutting. When about half the train had passed by, Dave sprang at an iron rod above a pair of little iron steps. Black Sadie screamed. Dave missed and fell. The wheels went over his arm, crushing off the hand at the wrist. It was a sad and frightened cortège that led the mangled child home to Nancy's cabin.

When Black Sadie was fifteen, she was tall and flat like a plank. Her occiput was flat, too, and mounted up to a wonderful height behind. Her head was poised on her neck like an egg ​on a short staff. She had a small, sensitive nose, and two rich eyes sunk deep in bony sockets. Her upper lip was very long and thin, while the lower lip was short and heavy, like a puff of flesh on the small round chin. Sadie's hair stuck out in a bush all over her head. She ceased to plait it in the numerous small pigtails of her childhood. When she was working she tied it down flat under a red bandanna handkerchief. She desired to wear corsets, like the buxom Quecene, but it was unnecessary. She had no breasts. Her chest was as hard and scrawny as a child's. She carried herself easily. Her thin arms and legs were not without a shapely maturity, and were as strong as steel. Unlike most negroes, Black Sadie's feet were neat and small, the bones delicate and well placed, though she never wore either shoes or stockings in the summer, and only shapeless, shoddy gear in the winter. Nancy said: 'She's like po' Ella.' And Unc' Roes averred that 'Mose had a head like a pear.' But Quecene swore that 'that black gal better not give herself no airs.' Black Sadie herself seemed serenely indifferent to all comment.

Black Sadie was an industrious soul. She did most of the menial work of the cabin—​cooking, cleaning. She worked quickly and efficiently. Aunt Nancy continued to hold her place as cook for Ole Miss at the big house. Aunt Thorry and Quecene busied themselves with wash. Unc' Roes resided in rheumatic seclusion in his lean-to, and Queer Sister diversified his days by frequent visits to his domain. Merry visits. She sat on the edge of the bed, squirming, giggling. Unc' Roes occupied a split-bottomed chair, leaning his elbows on the top of a cane. He made divers edifying observations for Queer Sister's benefit at the time of these visits, all of which she received with hilarious nonchalance.

The two older boys, Beau Jim and Lucky Andrew, worked now and then at odd jobs in the town. But usually their occupation was 'shooting craps,' sometimes winning, sometimes losing. Once Beau Jim provoked a fight with razors because other devotees of the game discovered him playing with loaded dice. His forehead and the backs of his hands were badly cut. For days he remained housed in Aunt Nancy's cabin while Quecene put turpentine rags over his wounds. The boys also thieved when possible. Jail often punctuated this pastime. Once Lucky Andrew spent seven weeks ​in the embrace of the law. When he came out of prison, he disappeared. Nobody knew where he had gone. Nobody cared at all. In the family, it was one less mouth to feed. Aunt Nancy opined that he would prosper well anywhere. He was born when the moon cupped luck. And Aunt Thorry, who disliked the sly youth, muttered under her breath that he would hang heavy here or yonder. Better yonder.

One-armed Dave, after his accident on the railway track, suddenly grew up. At sixteen he was a mature man. He had character too. That was a surprise. It was not a Ritchie trait—character. People learned to trust him. He got the job of driver for the municipal ice-wagon. He sat on a high front seat, almost as high as the hood of the wagon, and from this swaying throne he ruled the destinies of the vehicle, holding the long reins in his single hand, and guiding the heavy Percherons by the tones of his voice, all sorts of incomprehensible vocalizations to which the horses were acutely sensitive. Every day the ice-wagon went down the road past the Ritchie cabin. Jangling bells announced its advent. There were small bells on the horses' harness, and a large bell that hung on a spring on one side of ​the hood at the back. Dave's helper, who chopped the ice and delivered it in the pantries, operated this bell by pulling a wire to make it clang. On the other side of the hood the scales and grippers dangled from a hook. The helper stood on a swaying step, ready to jump up or down as business required. When Sadie heard the coming of the ice-wagon, she would run out to the road to receive from the hand of the helper a bucket of ice-chips scraped up from the floor of the wagon. With this ice she chilled bottles of root-beer.

Unc' Amos essayed a little gardening behind the cabin. He raised some Indian-corn and a patch of potatoes every year. They were always measly crops. He kept a sty of pigs, and spent long hours trudging over the town, a large pail in each hand, to collect slops for his swine. The heavy pails made him walk with a rolling gait like a sailor. Unc' Amos loved his pigs tenderly.

Quecene was the vitriolic member of the household. 'She sure do favor Nancy,' was the frequent comment of Aunt Thorry. But Aunt Nancy, because of being at the big house, had limited opportunities for displaying her talents of temper. She was seldom at home except for ​repose. But Quecene's high and angry tantrums were fearful to behold. The least provocation set her in a rage. Everybody was afraid of her. Even Queer Sister would be numbed by one of Quecene's outbursts of fury. Their violence often exhausted her. She would be hoarse and red-eyed for days.

At length Quecene 'got religion.' For years she had been urged 'to come through.' But revival after revival at the Shiloh Baptist Church passed its fires and thunders over the sinners and mourners and Quecene remained still unconverted. It was most humiliating. Sometimes she would cease to speak, moving about the house in a trancelike state. 'She's seekin',' said Aunt Thorry in a whisper. But there was no success. Quecene dallied with her soul. Night after night she would sit stolid and impassive in the church, and the hurricane of the preaching passed over her like water over a stone. The congregation watched her closely. Would Quecene come through? Ah, Sister! Ah, Brother! Black Sadie never failed to tremble with hope for her cousin. But every year the revival would end, and Quecene remained 'unsaved.' When hope expired, once on the first night of the revival, the proceedings ​scarcely begun, the stillness of the massed congregation was shattered by a scream. It was Quecene. She had come through. Praise the Lord!

Every noon Black Sadie heaped a tin plate with pork, potatoes, and cabbage. She carried it into the lean-to to Unc' Roes. It was his dinner. She sometimes lingered for a chat. One day when she returned to the main room of the cabin, she was surprised to see Beau Jim standing close behind Quecene at the ironing-board. He was very close to her, and he was passing his hands all over her shoulders and breasts. Sadie let fall the latch of the door with a loud click. Beau Jim stiffened and dropped his hands from their sensual excursion over Quecene's person. Quecene flung away to the stove for a hot iron. She seemed very confused. Beau Jim swaggered out of the room.

'Well, yer didn't git an eyeful, did yer!' exclaimed Quecene sarcastically.

Quecene's confusion was becoming transmuted into indignation. Sadie was mystified. She did not know what to reply, and, as Quecene put herself more and more on the offensive, Sadie only shook her head and went to ​her dish-washing. When she went out in the yard to fling away the pan of dirty water, she saw Beau Jim peeping malevolently at her round the corner of the house. Somehow he seemed nervous and apprehensive.

'What do yer know, gal?' he asked combatively, bracing himself.

Sadie was astonished. What was she supposed to know? What had she done to put Beau Jim and Quecene in this sullen mood?

Beau Jim produced his razor, flicked it open, ran his thumb quickly, menacingly down the blade. This gesture was a solemn threat. Sadie understood it well enough. She cast a startled glance at Beau Jim. What had she done to offend him?

'Well, whatever yer thinks yer know, Miss Peepin' Smarty, yer damn better well keep yer mouf shet.' Beau Jim paused. He rolled his eyes till the whites showed and he exposed his hideous blue gums. 'I'll slit yer face . . .!' And he gave the razor a slash through the air. The scar of his own razor wound showed jagged and livid on the black skin of his forehead.

The entire episode was an enigma to Sadie.

Two weeks later, Quecene was washing sheets at the pool in the stream at the edge of ​the woods. Aunt Thorry sang loud hymns, ironing within-doors. Sadie went down towards the pool to take Quecene a bundle of linen. She pushed her way through Unc' Amos's corn-patch, pressing aside the tall stalks of corn. Suddenly she caught sight of Beau Jim and Quecene lying together on the ground not thirty feet away from her. They neither saw nor heard Sadie. But at that moment Sadie knew all about everything.

What she had seen was a shock to Sadie. She became sly. She seemed to retire within herself. She had always been quiet and shy, but now a different mood possessed her. She would not let anybody touch her. She kept more than arm's length out of the boys' way. But they seemed unaware of that. Beau Jim never looked at her nor spoke to her, and Quecene tossed her head in a superior fashion in Sadie's presence. Sadie never saw Beau Jim and Quecene together again. They seemed to be enemies. So strange!

Black Sadie brooded much. She was pleased when she noted that her breasts were forming. Her chest began to bulge out gently into two little mounds of black flesh. Now, she felt, she could be haughty and proud. But she only ​became more silent and secretive. At the same time other queer happenings in her body disturbed her. Was she ill? Would she die? She broached the matter to Aunt Nancy. That weighty dame shrieked with laughter. But Sadie's mind was set at rest. She began to think she had better 'get religion.'

One day Beau Jim pushed past Sadie in the doorway. Their bodies pressed together. Beau Jim looked at Sadie sharply, quickly, but he shoved his way into the house and said nothing at the time. Nevertheless, after that encounter, he seemed always dallying about the cabin. His eyes followed Sadie wherever she went, but she seemed not to notice. Once he grabbed her arm, the fleshy part above the elbow.

She jerked away. 'Go to hell! I ain't no Quecene. An' I don't give yer nuthin' in no corn-patch.' Sadie's guns were trained.

Beau Jim was stunned. 'You go ter hell,' he spluttered. 'What yer mean 'bout er corn-patch?'

'I'se larose-ketch-medlose' (liable to catch meddlers), said Sadie pointedly.

Beau Jim caught her roughly. 'I'll do what I damn please,' he stuttered, furious, frightened. 'I'll slit yer wide open wid my ​razor,' and he snapped open that glittering weapon.

'Will ya let me be?' said Sadie calmly, pulling free of him.

That afternoon, a neighbor who worked in the 'section gang' on the railway, reported to Unc' Amos that he had seen Beau Jim 'hop er freight train goin' west.' And Unc' Amos surmised that Beau Jim 'muster got in trouble.' Aunt Thorry commented, 'One mo' nigger gone to dig coal.' Queer Sister appropriated the battered brown derby hat Beau Jim had left behind. She wore it all the time. It stuck up absurdly on top of her hydrocephalic head, teetering on the brush of stiff, kinky hair.

When Black Sadie was seventeen, a large circus came to town. Aunt Thorry put a plank across two empty barrels, covered it with pink newspaper cut out in notches and diamond-shaped designs, and it was an eating-booth beside the road where the circus crowd milled back and forth. Over this counter she and Quecene dispensed fried meat, bread, and coffee. Trade was lively. Many of the circus 'hands' refreshed themselves there.

One such customer, coming up, grinned de​lightedly. 'Yes, I'm in de circus now.' It was Lucky Andrew. He smelled strongly of animals and straw, also whiskey. What a surprise! He had been away from home two years. Andrew chatted with Aunt Thorry and Quecene for some minutes. He promised to go home to the cabin after the night performance to see his mother, Unc' Amos, and Unc' Roes. There were many acquaintances to be renewed. Some villainous-looking men called him away to haul on the guy ropes of the big tent. Quecene heard them singing an inspiriting rhythm as they tugged and pulled.

Presently Andrew reappeared at the booth. He wanted coffee. He told Quecene she could hire out, if she wished, as a packer in the dressing-tent of the women. He had heard the wardrobe mistress say she needed a helper. He would introduce Quecene. The pay would be two dollars a day, a sumptuous sum in the eyes of the colored girl. Quecene was eager to go. The glory of the circus! The fascination of the canvas city! And the ring!

So Quecene entered the employ of the mistress of robes. The next night when the circus departed, Quecene went too. Gone! 'Lordy, Lordy!' exclaimed Aunt Nancy. But Aunt ​Thorry wept for days. 'I won't never see my chile no mo'!' Black Sadie rejoiced in Quecene's absence, though she felt very sorry for Aunt Thorry. She helped her with the wash.

The Ritchies' ramshackle little cabin seemed empty now: two boys and a girl away from home. Joseph was gone too. He was in jail. It was likely he would go to the State penitentiary in Richmond. He got himself into a serious row the day of the circus, razor-cutting over a crap game. Dave rarely came home. He lived at the livery stable where his ice-wagon horses were put up. Of the boys, Kiddo alone ranged at large; sometimes coming home, usually not. How he lived was a mystery. Life seemed changed for the Ritchies. Black Sadie felt sad at the lowered temperature of the family fortunes.

'Ooman, ya sho' ought ter have some clo's,' remarked Aunt Thorry, scrutinizing Black Sadie. Black Sadie still wore slips, gingham, with a seam around the middle. Passed eighteen, and still slips. The only variation in her costume since childhood was the size of the garments. Unc' Roes called her 'a stringy gal.' For a very long time Sadie's desires had yearned toward shirtwaists. Shirtwaists were ​tucked in under a skirt, differentiating the upper and the lower person. They gave 'form.' Sleeves swelling into apses at the shoulders, or sacks at the wrists, were the culmination of her ambition. Quecene wore such, and high, choking collars. Quecene also thrust her fat body into corsets, whalebone cages that made her look flat behind and very bulging above and below the waistline in front. But now Quecene was gone. Aunt Thorry laid away her 'things' in a small tin trunk. The trunk thrust out its tempting, battered nose just one provocative inch from under the bed. Sadie gazed upon it hundreds of times a day. She longed to possess the contents of that trunk, but Aunt Thorry had it locked and always wore the key on a string around her neck. The key reposed somewhere in the capacious depths of her corsage.

Sadie also desired to wear corsets. Now that she had her breasts, she wished to indicate her womanhood by the proper paraphernalia. But the breasts were quite small, not monstrous lobes like Quecene's. Corsets were hardly necessary. And she had no hips. Plainly Sadie was not in vogue; her construction was a misfortune. It was a grief to her. 'Ain't she po'!' ​commented Aunt Nancy. 'Like er little spar'ow,' said Unc' Roes.

Aunt Thorry called her 'ooman.' That was a compliment in Black Sadie's eyes. At last she felt that she was no longer being regarded as a child. She made bold to ask for Quecene's clothes. Aunt Thorry, in a fit of generosity or maybe family pride, unlocked the little tin trunk. She gave Sadie a blue cloth skirt much worn at the placquet where the safety pins belonged, and two shirtwaists, a plaid one and a faded pink. The clothes were much too large for Sadie. She fell to work 'to make them down.'

Sadie was really very black, but the texture of her skin was smooth and fine. She had small white teeth which she rubbed many times a day with the frazzled end of a twig of apple tree. The most remarkable thing about the girl was her head. It was so high, so flat behind, and set so obliquely on her neck. The shock of crinkly hair exaggerated the savage tilt of the cranium. Her forehead and face came down flat too, just like the back of her head; the eye-sockets, nose, mouth, and chin barely differentiated the foreside of her skull from the rear. Though Sadie's features were small and deli​cately formed, and her nature seemed fine and nervous, yet her countenance was utterly impassive. Neither grief nor joy disturbed the repose of her mien. Her arms were very long. They terminated in hands small as a child's. Sadie looked anaemic, and her bones frail, but she was very strong indeed and her vitality great. Nothing wearied her physically. She did her work with a dexterity and finish unprecedented among Ritchies.

When Sadie was nineteen she engaged herself to do fine sewing and lingerie washing for Miss Flora Lee. 'She's the only colored girl I'd trust with my things.' The sewing was done in Miss Flora Lee's own bower, under her immediate direction and eye. The laundry was done on the large back porch of the Lee's house. Sadie used Ivory Soap. She soaked the fragile garments for hours, never rubbed nor wrung them out, and she spread them to dry on the flat, clipped top of the garden hedge. The sun bleached lawns and laces satisfactorily.

Miss Flora Lee dressed daintily, according to the rule and precept of 'The Ladies' Home Journal' and 'The Modern Priscilla.' Miss Flora Lee went to 'commencements' at the ​V.M.I. and the University (it is superfluous to say 'of Virginia'). She and Mr. Tom rarely saw each other now. They had not quarreled, but Miss Flora Lee considered her horizons wider than Mr. Tom could fill.

Ole Miss thought so too. She had long since abandoned saying to her grandson: 'Tom, why don't you call on sweet Flora Lee?' Mr. Tom did not care to. He felt more at ease with plainer misses. He was inclined to be bucolic. His clay was coarse and his tastes somewhat vulgar. Ole Miss sighed. He would be like his father, dashing, handsome, but out of place in his own caste.

Mr. Tom had a job 'on the telephone.' He installed 'phones in the houses of the town, climbed poles to repair wires or stretch new lines, and 'bossed niggers' planting poles. He wore 'climbers,' steel spikes lashed to his ankles to enable him to scale poles. He dressed in shabby corduroys and wore no collar. A wide leather belt stuck full of appliances girdled his middle and jangled when he walked. On Sundays he wore a blue serge suit, sometimes a light gray (called soda-water), and lounged in the cushioned window of the drug-store. He would not go to church. He would ​not be confirmed. Ole Miss and Miss Belle grieved for his soul. Occasionally he would go 'with girls we do not know' (said Ole Miss) to the Baptist or Methodist churches. During the 'long prayer' or the sermon he would scribble remarks of love or humor on the girls' fans. They giggled.

When Miss Flora Lee had been to Commencement at V.M.I. once, and the University twice, she announced that she was engaged and began to make up her trousseau. 'My dear, he's a Yankee!' 'Poor Mrs. Lee!' 'Is the Colonel angry?'—the village commented and exclaimed. It was a universal mystery how a 'Yankee' had got into the University of Virginia, more incomprehensible still that the Richmond and Lynchburg boys had permitted such a 'person' to join their clubs and join in their amusements. 'He' even belonged to The Raven! 'I shall always blame Mrs. Russy Carter,' said Ole Miss. 'She was responsible for Flora. She should never have allowed the innocent child to meet a Yankee.' Mrs. Lee wisely held her peace. When the Colonel was questioned, he remarked that the war was over. But Miss Flora said: 'He is very rich. He lives in New Jersey, near New York, you ​know.' 'Better than Vermont or Massachusetts,' conceded the ladies of the town. Sound philosophy!

Miss Flora Lee was invited to visit the home of her fiancé. Sadie worked steadily on new clothes for her to wear 'North.' 'Sadie, here is twelve yards of insertion. It will do for the pink organdie and the white muslin too. These guimpes must have twenty little tucks apiece. Do you think the lace on those fichus is fine enough?' Sadie sewed rapidly with fine little stitches, holding her work on her lap, her knees crossed to make it higher.

It was profitable to work for Miss Flora Lee. The wage was fifty cents a day, and meals. There were also perquisites. Miss Flora Lee gave Sadie delectable articles of apparel, a duck skirt, nothing wrong with it but a mud stain that would not wash out, some percale shirtwaists with four-in-hand stocks to match, and best of all a petticoat with banks of flounces and yards and yards of insertion. She got a pink corset-cover too. Sadie took that from a chaos of clothes a-tumble on the bed in 'Mamma's chamber.' It would never be missed. Beneath Sadie's shirtwaist it would never be seen. She purloined a pair of blue ​garters, somewhat stretched from wear, and sundry handkerchiefs, and other little odds and ends of this and that. It was very profitable to work for Miss Flora Lee.

An express package came from Guggenheimer's Store in Lynchburg. Slippers, white canvas, white suède, blue silk. Miss Belle gave 'my dear Flora' a little useful article to use while away, a flowered oilcloth case with two pockets in it edged with tiny pink silk-ruffles. In one pocket was a cake of sweet lavender soap, in the other a knitted wash-cloth with pale blue border and the monogram 'FL' in the corner. Black Sadie told Aunt Thorry Miss Flora Lee was as dainty as a 'chick-a-dee-dee.'

Mr. Tom said: 'If that damned, educated Yankee comes to this town, I'll beat him up.' The swains of the drug-store window agreed in the sentiments of Mr. Tom. They were gallant. No strange cocks on their dung-heap. But Miss Flora Lee carried her head very high and would not speak to any of the boys on the street, nor even notice them when she came into the drug-store to buy lavender leaves or cologne. The boys tested her. 'Miss Flora, will you have a lime-ade, or an ice-cream soda?' Temptation. 'No, thank you, I am going to a ​tea at Mrs. Harry Semple's.' So haughty! Damn! Let her go then! Girls get so stuck-up when they get engaged. Flora would soon be quite yankeefied.

Colonel Lee employed a colored boy to work the garden and keep the lawn. His name was John Ed, a cheerful mulatto with very large hands and feet. When the Lees had company for dinner, John Ed put on a white coat and served at table. He stood behind Colonel Lee's chair. Sadie stood behind Mrs. Lee's chair. Her duty was to wave flies from the board by means of a long broom of peacock feathers. Sadie and John Ed looked at each other across the mahogany table. John Ed observed her also at other times as she came and went about the establishment.

John Ed belonged to a more self-respecting class of darky than Black Sadie. Her people were referred to as 'cornfield nigger,' but the mulatto boy was classed as 'colored house-servant.' An infinity of difference. But even so John Ed was not proof against the foibles of man. Black Sadie had her charm. She was provocative. The negro bucks began to notice her. She was no longer a child. Her womanhood was apparent. So John Ed lusted for her, ​caught in the lure of her feminine suggestiveness. He sought an occasion to speak to her.

One day he looked over the top of the garden hedge. Sadie stood on the other side. She spread handkerchiefs and laces to dry on the flat top of the clipped privet. John Ed essayed to be pleasant, but Sadie sniffed. She would not notice him. But her nearness and the hot silence of the garden excited him. He came close up to the hedge and fixed her with his eye.

'Sadie,' he ventured, meaningly, 'will yer?' John Ed glanced at her hopefully, slyly. He tried to laugh, but he was too nervous. He had cast his die. His words meant nothing, his tone everything. The black girl could not fail to understand his wooing. 'Sho', will yer?' he said, and waited.

Black Sadie looked him sharply in the face. 'I'se gwine right straight in dis house an' tell Mis' Lee just what you is,' she said.

John Ed took fright. 'I ain't said nuthin'!' he expostulated.

'Den keep on sayin' nuthin',' answered Sadie, and marched off.

'Cornfiel' nigger!' John Ed spat in his hands and took up his hoeing with vigor. 'Slut!'

Now it chanced that the masculine charm of ​John Ed had been marked for herself by Vesta, the cook for the household Lee. Her wiles were of little avail. John Ed refused to be lured by them. He feared and disliked the raw-boned vixen in Mrs. Lee's kitchen. The rebuff to her pride was like salt in a wound to Vesta, and when she perceived John Ed and Sadie in converse over the garden hedge, instinct instructed her soul with understanding, filling her heart with the sharp virus of disappointed desire. She became insane with jealousy of Sadie.

Vesta was one of Aunt Nancy's daughters begot at a time when that lady enjoyed an enviable plethora of suitors. In Nancy's own mind there was a certain uncertainty as to her fatherhood. She split the difference and palmed Vesta off on the innocuous Amos. Vesta had a sister named Charity, a year older than herself, and of a much lighter color. But the variant in skin-shades of Nancy's offspring never seemed to Nancy a matter worth accounting for, and certainly Unc' Amos rarely complained of suspicion, though once he had shot at a coat-tail disappearing round the corner of his home. Unc' Amos was black as a coal and Aunt Nancy decidedly sooty, but of ​the Ritchie children the lamented Ella alone had possessed the undiluted African complexion of Nancy and Amos. The other children ranged from light yellow to dark brown.

Vesta was dark brown. She was a hoyden of thirty-odd years. She did not live in the Ritchie cabin, but resided in a tumbledown shack of her own. She presumably had a husband, but he was seldom at home. To show for her marital estate Vesta trailed at her skirts three snotty, bow-legged little pickaninnies. They were legitimate by courtesy merely. Vesta bragged that she was beholden to no man. Indeed, she wasn't. She plucked whom she would and drove them away when she wished. And gladly the victims retired. No man would willingly submit to her shrewish ill-temper for long.

Vesta was a good cook. Her moral delinquencies her employers chose to ignore. As Aunt Nancy reigned in the kitchen of Ole Miss, so Vesta held sway in that of Mrs. Lee. Good cooks were hard to find, and a servant who would stay for any length of time in a household was a treasure not to be lightly thrown away. Vesta's kitchen was a filthy place. Mrs. Lee entered there as seldom as possible and ​always with a blind eye. Vesta held her mistress in the hollow of her hand. One word, and she gave notice. She injected her strident personality into every corner of her domain. Mrs. Lee preferred to sidestep any issue likely to lead to revolution in the ménage.

Vesta became insane with jealousy of Sadie. Her anger and scorn for her niece knew no bounds. The invariable sign of Vesta's high wrath was a black lace hat, dingy, and bent of frame. When out of sorts Vesta hoisted this pennon to the top of her clout-bound head. It trembled there with a menace not to be mistaken by any. So when Sadie tripped in from the snub she had administered to the temerarious John Ed, she found Vesta wearing the black lace hat and flouncing around the kitchen. Vesta sang in a loud nasal voice. She stuck out her great square hips and with brawny arms did havoc in the sink with knives and forks and small tinware. Vesta dashed pots and pans together. Vesta shrieked curses at the blinking, inoffensive cat under the stove, and cried on Heaven to save her soul from all 'brash niggers.'

Plainly Vesta was in a tantrum. Black Sadie could not guess why. She thought it wise not ​to tarry in the kitchen. The ringing tones of Vesta's wrath warned her out of the way. Sadie passed by the kitchen door into the house. This action infuriated Vesta. Her prey seemed escaping. 'Come 'er, gal, an' git this dinner,' she bawled after her. But Sadie intentionally did not hear. She had gone into the house.

Vesta pursued Sadie to the door of the back hall. She saw the goods-box turned on end and holding the tub of soapy water in which Sadie had been doing the laundry for Miss Flora Lee. Inspiration came to Vesta. She pitched upon the goods-box, snagging her skirt on a splintered corner. With a snarling oath, she snatched at her rent garment and the tub of water at the same time. The tub tilted over. It rattled resoundingly in its fall. The purly water sloshed forth. It streamed through the door and coursed down the polished length of the hall. Colonel Lee at the same moment entered the house for his dinner. He went down the back hall to hang his hat on the deer's horns behind the dining-room door. The tidal wave caught him about the legs. Vesta saw it. She screamed out her curses afresh, held up her snagged skirt, and plunged into the fastness of her kitchen, slamming the door.

​There was a great reckoning. Colonel Lee had to be reckoned with. He was furious. Mrs. Lee had to be reckoned with. She was in despair. Vesta had to be reckoned with. The accident was not her fault. If Sadie had but gone into the kitchen, as in duty bound, Vesta would not have had to run after her to call her back. The hall floor had to be reckoned with; so had the drenched rugs. Dinner was very, very late. And Black Sadie was at fault. She wept as she mopped the floor. It was all her fault. But why? Vesta alone knew.

In October Miss Flora Lee was married. The ceremony took place in the Episcopal Church, a brick affair, four walls, square windows, and a high stoop. On the top was an erection neither steeple nor spire—four wooden cones sticking up in the air from a wooden base. The construction housed the bell, so belfry it was.

The bell clanged when Miss Flora Lee was married. It was nine o'clock at night. The bon ton of the town witnessed the proceedings from within the church; the 'po' whites' and negroes ranged themselves on the outside of the edifice 'to see the bride go in.' Miss Flora Lee drove up with Colonel Lee in a 'hack.' ​Inside, the chancel was covered with white, and a white strip stretched down the center aisle for the bride to tread on. Ole Miss's silver candelabra blazed on the altar. The account of the ceremony in the local newspaper said 'the many guests from far and near all wore full evening dress.' The word 'far' had reference to the family of the bridegroom. It was a delicate way to avoid using the term (in everybody's heart) Yankees. New Jersey in the estimation of Virginians differed not at all from Connecticut and New Hampshire.

Black Sadie had special privileges at the wedding. She was permitted to witness the function from the corner of the bulky gallery almost over the head of the wedding party. Sadie swelled with admiration and pride when she saw Miss Flora Lee in her white satin dress and long tulle veil. The train of the dress spread out a full two yards behind the heels of the bride. Sadie was sure she carried off the occasion very well, but Mrs. Lee cried when Miss Flora came down the aisle. The bridegroom was never spoken of as anything but 'Flora Lee's husband.'

Ole Miss and her neighbors were wont to ​exchange calls. Ole Miss received them in the parlor. She put on a pair of black kid gloves, hooked her watch with the yards of fine gold chain over her corsage, and pinned on her bosom 'my mourning breast-pin.' The mourning breast-pin was a large enamel oval under crystal. It represented a gentleman in somber black leaning weakly against a funeral urn. It commemorated 'my dear husband.' Unless thus accoutered Ole Miss would not receive callers. Ole Miss moved in the atmosphere and social usages of 1845, the early years of her experience as a matron. Anything else was 'distressingly old-fashioned' or 'shockingly modern.'

Whenever callers arrived, Miss Belle repaired at once to the dining-room closet, from whence she extracted wine and pound-cake, or some other kind of cake. She diluted the wine with water and called it sangaree. She set glasses and some of 'my hand-painted plates' on a silver waiter, then she went into the parlor to 'join the company.' In a few minutes the domestic maid would appear bearing the silver waiter with the refreshments. Thus calls were received by Ole Miss and Miss Belle.

Mrs. 'Colonel' Lee belonged to a much ​younger generation than Ole Miss, but she was some years older than Miss Belle. The ladies were attached neighbors and friends, though they treated one another with great formality. When Mrs. 'Colonel' Lee went to call, she carried a parasol with a long handle which had a joint in it so that it could be adjusted to the angle of the sun. She usually wore heliotrope silk. She found that shade becoming to herself: heliotrope and a little white lace. Ole Miss always wore black moirée silk.

Some time after Miss Flora Lee's wedding and departure to live in the 'North,' Mrs. 'Colonel' Lee came to call on Ole Miss. She wished to speak to her about a domestic matter. Ole Miss folded her hands and listened. It was in reference to Sadie. 'She is an excellent servant, my dear,' said Mrs. 'Colonel' Lee. 'But she does not get on well with Vesta. Naturally Vesta is more important to me than Sadie. She has been my cook for years. I could not think of training another.' (Mrs. Lee spoke figuratively. Ole Miss understood.) 'And now that my precious Flora has a home of her own, I do not really need an extra maid.'

Mrs. Lee paused. Old Miss waited. Miss Belle came in with the sangaree and cake. The ​ladies deflected the conversation into courteous pleasantries for the moment. Ole Miss ventured back into the track of business.

'Mrs. Lee was speaking of Sadie . . . Nancy's granddaughter, you know.' This to Miss Belle.

'As I said,' resumed Mrs. Lee, 'she is a remarkably good maid, much superior to her origin and upbringing. She is neat. She is respectful. A perfect seamstress and laundress. But she and Vesta cannot agree.' Mrs. Lee brought the tip of her parasol down with a rap. 'Now that your old Rachel is dead, I thought perhaps you would want a reliable servant to take her place. I recommend Sadie.'

So Black Sadie entered Ole Miss's employ. It had been long since she had walked those rooms and halls. But she felt entirely at home. She soon proved her efficiency and worth. Ole Miss was relieved. She had hesitated to admit another Ritchie to the big house. Unc' Rocs was gone, but Aunt Nancy still reigned. Ole Miss did not trust Ritchies. She felt that she had run a risk in hiring Sadie. But after Sadie had been there a little time, Ole Miss was relieved. Miss Belle was pleased too. 'I taught her myself,' she said, 'when she was a child. It ​is most gratifying to discover that my time and efforts were not wasted.'

When Sadie came into the house, at first Aunt Nancy was pleased, but she soon sensed the black girl's superiority. Treachery! No wonder Vesta had hated her, and Vesta was at pains to prejudice her mother against poor Sadie. 'She's stuck-up,' she said. So Aunt Nancy began to persecute her granddaughter. Sadie never could do anything right in Nancy's eyes. She abused her loudly. But Ole Miss had been won over by Sadie. She closed her ears to Aunt Nancy's maledictions.

Nancy demanded of Sadie the full amount of her wages (eight dollars a month), and when she refused, she threatened to beat her. When Ole Miss was informed, she said that Sadie must not go home to the cabin at night. She might really be hurt. Ole Miss gave her a small room just off the back porch with permission for her to make it her own. A room at the big house! This was distinction indeed! The Ritchie family felt that Sadie had lifted the reputation of the tribe out of the 'cornfield' into the realms of 'colored house-servant.' Enviable triumph! They hated Sadie to her face, and bragged about her behind her back. Ole Miss's maid! Black Sadie!

​After two years of absence, Quecene came home. Suddenly, unexpectedly. She came on the train. She wore a flappy, soiled 'Merry Widow' hat and a coat with a fur collar. She wore black lisle stockings and vici kid shoes that laced far up her exceedingly stout calves. The heels of the shoes tilted over because they were much worn down on one side. Nevertheless Quecene was impressive. The whole neighborhood was impressed by her. She spoke with an affected voice and tried to roll her r's. She had much to relate. She was married, she said. She was called Mrs. Lowry. She had married one of the negro 'hands' in the circus, but they had not remained with the circus long. 'Mr. Lowry' had got a job as coachman to a wealthy family in 'Easter Orange,' New Jersey, 'way up North.' The people in 'Easter Orange' had white servants. Irish. But the Irish were no good. The 'Easter Orange' people now wanted colored 'help' from the South. The wages were very high, thirty and forty dollars a month! Quecene had come to persuade as many of the colored people in Virginia as she could to go back with her. They would all get jobs immediately, and be just as good as 'white folks.' In the North colored people were free!

​Quecene called herself 'a service-agent.' She stayed at home a week. Then she returned to 'Easter Orange.' Black Sadie and two other negro girls went with her. Several more promised to follow.

'The Yankees lure all our best servants away. They tempt them with exorbitant wages.' Thus the housewives of the town. The community was really disturbed. Naturally it had been a Ritchie to disturb it. Ole Miss resented Quecene taking Sadie away from her. Aunt Nancy, with her daughters, Charity and Vesta, rejoiced at the departure of that 'stuck-up smarty.' But soft, affectionate Aunt Thorry wept afresh for her daughter and niece gone 'North.' Unc' Roes gave Sadie his rabbit's foot in the brass socket. 'I ain't never had no luck nohow,' he said. 'You take hit, chile, maybe you kin kunjur fortune.' Queer Sister joined her sobs with those of Aunt Thorry. Black Sadie had gone North!