Mam Lyddys Recognition | Page 4

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 with a flaming red bow at her throat, sat Mammy
Lyddy.
"Here 's the gentleman you were looking for," said the porter kindly.

At sight of Graeme she rose so hastily that many of her bundles rolled
on the floor.
"Why, Mammy! Why did n't you come on the train I wrote you to come
on?" enquired Graeme.
"Well, you tole me to come to-day, and I thought I would like to be on
time, so I came this morning."
"Now, if you will let me have your tickets, I will attend to everything
for you," said the porter to Graeme.
The old woman gave him a swift glance, and then seeing Graeme hand
him his ticket, she turned her back, and began to fish in some
mysterious recess in her garments, and after a long exploration brought
out a small bag containing her ticket.
"Is he one of your servants!" she asked Graeme in an undertone.
Graeme smiled. "Well, I think he is--he is everybody's servant and
friend."
"I did n't know. He comes roun' inquirin' 'bout my business so officious
I thought sure he was one o' dese Gov'ment folks, and I done had
'nough to do wid dat kind."
"Like Amos Brown, Caesar's friend."
It was a sore subject with the old woman.
"Well, I did n't know--I thought he was one o' dese perliss. So I sent
him 'long 'bout he own business. But if you know him it 's all right."
The passengers who streamed through the great station the evening of
her arrival, were surprised to see a pudgy old black woman escorted by
a gentleman who, loaded down with her bundles and baskets, was
guiding her through the throng as respectfully as if she had been the
first lady in the land. At the gate a lady and several children were
awaiting her, and at sight of her a cry of joy went up. Dropping her

bundles, the old woman threw herself into the lady's arms and kissed
her again and again, after which she received a multitude of kisses from
the children.
"Well, I never saw anything like that," said a stranger to another.
"She is their mammy," said the other one simply, with a pleasant light
in his eyes.
The old woman's presence seemed to transform the house. She was no
sooner installed than she took possession. That very morning she
established her position, after a sharp but decisive battle with the airy
"colored lady," who for some days had been dawdling about the house.
The mammy had gauged her as soon as her sharp eyes fell on her.
"What does yo' call yo'self?" she asked her.
"What is my name? I am called 'Miss Johnson--Miss Selina Johnson.'"
The old woman gave a sniff.
"Yo' is! Well, what does yo' call you'self doin' heah?"
"You mean what is my employment! I am the help--one of the help."
"Yo' is!" Mam' Lyddy tightened her apron-strings about her stout waist.
"Well, 'Miss Johnson,' you git holt of that mat-trass and help me meek
up dis heah bed so it 'll be fit for you' mistis to sleep on it." With a jerk
she turned up the mattress. The maid was so taken aback for a moment
that she did not speak. Then she drew herself up.
"I know I ain' gwine to tetch it. I done made it up onct to-day. An' I
ain't got no mistis."
The mammy turned on her.
"Umh'm! I thought so! I knows jest yo' kind. Well, de sooner you git
out o' dis room de better for you. 'Cause if I lay my han' 'pon you I
won't let you go till I'se done what yo' mammy ought to 'a' done to you

ev'y day o' yo' life."
She moved toward her with so dangerous a gleam in her sharp little
eyes that "Miss Johnson" deemed it safest to beat a hasty retreat, and
before bedtime had disappeared from the premises entirely.
In the kitchen the old woman had been equally strenuous. She had
shown the cook in one evening that she knew more about cooking than
that well-satisfied person had ever dreamed any one knew. She had
taught the other maid that she knew by instinct every lurking place of
dirt, however skilfully hidden, and, withal, she had inspired them both
with so much dread of her two-edged tongue that they were doing their
best to conciliate her by a zeal and