Mam Lyddys Recognition | Page 3

that was encumbered.
Happily, Cabell Graeme was sufficiently successful as a lawyer, not only to keep his little family in comfort, but to receive an offer of a connection in the North, which made it clearly to his interest to go there. One of the main obstacles in the way of the move was Mam' Lyddy. She would have gone with them, but for the combined influences of Old Caesar and a henhouse full of hens that were sitting. The old man was in his last illness, and a slow decline, and the chickens would soon be hatched. Since, however, it was apparent that old C?sar would soon be gone, as that the chickens would soon be hatched, Graeme having arranged for C?sar's comfort, took his family with him when he moved.
He knew that the breaking-up would be a wrench; but it was worse than he had expected, for their roots were deep in the old soil. Old friends, when they said good-by, wrung his hand with the faces men wear when they take a last look at a friend's face. The parting with the mammy was especially bitter. It brought the break-up home as few things had done. And when Mr. and Mrs. Graeme reached their new home with its strange surroundings, her absence made it all the stranger.
The change in the servants marked the change in the life. The family found it hard to reconcile themselves to it. Mrs. Graeme had always been accustomed to the old servants, who were like members of the family, and to find her domestics regarding her as an enemy or as their prey disturbed and distressed her.
"You are going to try colored servants?" asked one of her new friends in some surprise.
"Oh, yes, I am quite used to them."
"Well.--Perhaps--but I doubt if you are used to these."
Mrs. Graeme soon discovered her mistake. One after another was tried and discarded. Those who knew nothing remained until they had learned enough to be useful and then departed, while those who knew a little thought they knew everything and brooked no direction. And all were insolent. With or without notice the dusky procession passed through the house, each out-goer taking with her some memento of her transient stay.
"I do not know what is the matter," sighed Mrs. Graeme. "I always thought I could get along with colored people; but somehow these are different. Why is it, Cabell!"
"Spoiled," said her husband, laconically. "The mistake was in the emancipation proclamation. Domestic servants ought to have been excepted."
His humor, however, did not appeal to his wife. The case was too serious.
"The last one I had told me, that if I did not like what she called coffee--and which I really thought was tea--I 'd better cook for myself. And that other maid, after wearing one of my best dresses, walked off with a brand-new waist. I am only standing the present one till Mammy comes. She says she likes to be called 'Miss Johnson.'"
"I paid twenty dollars last week for the privilege of chucking a dusky gentleman down the steps; but I did not begrudge it," said her husband, cheerfully. "The justice who imposed the fine said to me afterward that the only mistake I had made was in not breaking his neck."
*****
At last, old Caesar was gathered to his dusky fathers, and the chickens having been mainly disposed of, Mr. Graeme went down and brought the old mammy on.
He had written the old woman to come by a certain train to Washington where he would meet her, and true to his appointment he met that train. But in the motley throng that filed through the gate was no Mam' Lyddy, and inquiring of the train men showed that no one answering to her description could have been on the train.
Just as Graeme was turning away to go to the telegraph desk, one of the gray-clad colored porters, a stout, middle-aged man with a pleasant voice, and the address of a gentleman, approached him,
"Were you looking for some one, sir?"
"Yes, for an old colored woman, my wife's old mammy."
"Well, I think you may find her in the inner waiting-room. There is an old lady in there, who has been waiting there all day. She came in on the morning train, and said she was expecting you. If you will come with me, I will show you."
"She 's been there all day," the porter said, with a laugh, as they walked along. "I asked who she was waiting for; but she wouldn't tell me. She said it was none of my business."
"I fancy that 's she," said Graeme.
"Yes, sir, that 's she, sure."
Graeme thanked him. With a chuckle he led the way to where ensconced in a corner, surrounded by bundles and baskets and clad in the deepest black, and