The Marrow of Tradition | Page 4

at de mission school tuck a
likin' ter little Janet, an' put her thoo school, an' den sent her off ter de
No'th fer ter study ter be a school teacher. W'en she come back, 'stead
er teachin' she ma'ied ole Adam Miller's son."
"The rich stevedore's son, Dr. Miller?"
"Yas, suh, dat's de man,--you knows 'im. Dis yer boy wuz jes' gwine
'way fer ter study ter be a doctuh, an' he ma'ied dis Janet, an' tuck her
'way wid 'im. Dey went off ter Europe, er Irope, er Orope, er
somewhere er 'nother, 'way off yander, an' come back here las' year an'
sta'ted dis yer horspital an' school fer ter train de black gals fer nusses."
"He's a very good doctor, Jane, and is doing a useful work. Your
chapter of family history is quite interesting,--I knew part of it before,
in a general way; but you haven't yet told me what brought on Mrs.
Carteret's trouble."
"I'm jes' comin' ter dat dis minute, suh,--w'at I be'n tellin' you is all a

part of it. Dis yer Janet, w'at's Mis' 'Livy's half-sister, is ez much like
her ez ef dey wuz twins. Folks sometimes takes 'em fer one ernudder,--I
s'pose it tickles Janet mos' ter death, but it do make Mis' 'Livy rippin'.
An' den 'way back yander jes' after de wah, w'en de ole Carteret
mansion had ter be sol', Adam Miller bought it, an' dis yer Janet an' her
husban' is be'n livin' in it ever sence ole Adam died, 'bout a year ago;
an' dat makes de majah mad, 'ca'se he don' wanter see cullud folks livin'
in de ole fam'ly mansion w'at he wuz bawn in. An' mo'over, an' dat's de
wust of all, w'iles Mis' 'Livy ain' had no child'en befo', dis yer sister er
her'n is got a fine-lookin' little yaller boy, w'at favors de fam'ly so dat ef
Mis' 'Livy'd see de chile anywhere, it'd mos' break her heart fer ter
think 'bout her not havin' no child'en herse'f. So ter-day, w'en Mis' 'Livy
wuz out ridin' an' met dis yer Janet wid her boy, an' w'en Mis' 'Livy got
ter studyin' 'bout her own chances, an' how she mought not come thoo
safe, she jes' had a fit er hysterics right dere in de buggy. She wuz mos'
home, an' William got her here, an' you knows de res'."
Major Carteret, from the head of the stairs, called the doctor anxiously.
"You had better come along up now, Jane," said the doctor.
For two long hours they fought back the grim spectre that stood by the
bedside. The child was born at dawn. Both mother and child, the doctor
said, would live.
"Bless its 'ittle hea't!" exclaimed Mammy Jane, as she held up the tiny
mite, which bore as much resemblance to mature humanity as might be
expected of an infant which had for only a few minutes drawn the
breath of life. "Bless its 'ittle hea't! it's de we'y spit an' image er its
pappy!"
The doctor smiled. The major laughed aloud. Jane's unconscious
witticism, or conscious flattery, whichever it might be, was a welcome
diversion from the tense strain of the last few hours.
"Be that as it may," said Dr. Price cheerfully, "and I'll not dispute it, the
child is a very fine boy,--a very fine boy, indeed! Take care of it,
major," he added with a touch of solemnity, "for your wife can never

bear another."
With the child's first cry a refreshing breeze from the distant ocean
cooled the hot air of the chamber; the heavy odor of the magnolias,
with its mortuary suggestiveness, gave place to the scent of rose and
lilac and honeysuckle. The birds in the garden were singing lustily.
All these sweet and pleasant things found an echo in the major's heart.
He stood by the window, and looking toward the rising sun, breathed a
silent prayer of thanksgiving. All nature seemed to rejoice in sympathy
with his happiness at the fruition of this long-deferred hope, and to
predict for this wonderful child a bright and glorious future.
Old Mammy Jane, however, was not entirely at ease concerning the
child. She had discovered, under its left ear, a small mole, which led
her to fear that the child was born for bad luck. Had the baby been
black, or yellow, or poor-white, Jane would unhesitatingly have named,
as his ultimate fate, a not uncommon form of taking off, usually
resultant upon the infraction of certain laws, or, in these swift modern
days, upon too violent a departure from established social customs. It
was manifestly impossible that a child of such high quality as the
grandson of her old mistress should die by judicial strangulation; but
nevertheless the warning was a serious thing,