Mam Lyddys Recognition | Page 6

it herself. The old fool! They will rob her of it."

III
The weeks that followed, and Mam' Lyddy's immersion in "Siciety"
began apparently to justify Mr. Graeme's prophecy. A marked change
had taken place in the old woman's dress, and no less a change had
taken place in herself. She began to go out a good deal, and her manner
was quite new. She was what a few weeks before she would have
derided as "citified and airified." At length Mrs. Graeme could not
conceal it from herself any longer.

One evening as her husband on his return from his office threw himself
on his chair with the evening paper, she brought up the subject.
"Cabell, it is true; you have noticed the change!"
"What? I have no doubt I have." He glanced at his wife to see if she had
on a new dress or had changed the mode of wearing her hair, then
gazed about him rather uneasily to see if the furniture had been shifted
about, or if the pictures had been changed; points on which his wife
was inclined to be particular.
"The change in Mammy! Why, I should never know her for the same
person."
"Of course, I have. I have noticed nothing else. Why, she is dressed as
fine as a fiddle. She is 'taking notice.' She 'll be giving Old Caesar a
successor. Then what will you do? I thought that fat darky I have seen
going in at the back gate with a silk hat and a long-tailed coat looked
like a preacher. You 'd better look out for him. You know she was
always stuck on preachers. He is a preacher, sure."
"He is," observed the small boy on the floor. "That 's the Reverend Mr.
Johnson. And, oh! He certainly can blow beautiful smoke-rings. He can
blow a whole dozen and make 'em go through each other. You just
ought to see him, papa."
His father glanced casually at the cigar box on the table.
"I think I will some day," said he, half grimly.
"I never would know her for the same person. Why, she is so changed!"
pursued Mrs. Graeme. "She goes out half the time, and this morning
she was so cross! She says she is as good as I am if she is black. She is
getting like these others up here."
Mr. Graeme flung down the paper he was reading.
"It is these Northern negroes who have upset her, and the fools like the

editor of that paper who have upset them."
Mrs. Graeme looked reflective.
"That preacher has been coming here a good deal lately. I wonder if
that could have anything to do with it!" she said, slowly.
Her husband sniffed.
"I will find out."
At that moment the door opened and in walked Mam' Lyddy and a
small boy in all the glory of five years, and all the pride of his first pair
of breeches. The old woman's face wore an expression of glumness
wholly new to her, and Mr. Graeme's mouth tightened. His wife had
only time to whisper: "Now, don't you say a word to her." But she was
too late. Mam' Lyddy's expression drove him to disobedience. He gave
her a keen glance, and then said, half jocularly: "Old woman, what is
the matter with you lately!"
Mam' Lyddy did not answer immediately. She looked away, then said:
"Wid me? Ain't nuttin' de matter wid me."
"Oh, yes, there is. What is it? Do you want to go home?"
She appeared half startled for an instant, then answered more sharply:
"Nor, I don't wan' go home. I ain' got no home to go to."
"Oh, yes, you have. Well, what is the matter? Out with it. Have you lost
any money!"
"Nor, I ain' lost no money 's I knows on."
"Been playing lottery?"
"I don' know what dat is."
"You don't, ah! Well, you would if you had been in Wall Street lately.
Well, what is the matter? You are going around here as glum as a

meat-axe. Something 's up. What is it?"
"Ain' nothin' de matter wid me." She glanced away under her master's
half amused, half disdainful glance, then added half surlily: "I wants
rec'nition."
"Want recognition? What do you mean?"
"Dat 's what we wants," declared the old woman, acquiring courage.
Graeme laughed.
"What is recognition?"
"I don't know what 't is edzac'ly, but dat's what we wants. You all 's got
it and you got to gi' it to us."
"You mean you want to sit at table with us!" exclaimed Mrs. Graeme.
Mammy Lyddy turned toward her. "You know I don't mean nuttin' like
dat! I leetle more 'n smacked that yaller gal' what you call you' maid
over 'bout talkin' dat