Yankee Girl at Fort Sumter | Page 5

next.
"Set the pitcher down," said Sylvia.
"Yas, Missy," said Estralla, her big eyes fixed on the little white girl in
the pretty bed who was smiling at her in so friendly a fashion. She took
a step or two forward, her eyes still fixed on Sylvia, and not noticing
the little footstool directly in front of her, over which she stumbled with

a loud crash, breaking the pitcher and sending the hot water over her
bare feet.
"Oh, Mammy! Mammy! Mammy!" she screamed, lying face downward
on the floor with the overturned footstool and broken pitcher, while the
steaming water soaked through the cotton dress.
In a moment Sylvia was out of bed.
"Get up, Estralla," she commanded, "and stop screaming."
The little darky's wails ceased, and she looked up at the slender white
figure standing in front of her.
"I kyan't git up; I'se all scalded and cut," she sobbed, "an' if I does get
up I'se gwine to get whipped for breaking the pitcher," and at the
thought of new trouble in store for her, she began to scream again.
"Get up this minute," said Sylvia. "I don't believe the water was hot
enough to scald you; it never is really hot. Here, help me sop it up," and
grabbing her bath towel Sylvia began to mop up the little stream of
water which was trickling across the floor.
Estralla managed to get to her feet. She was still holding fast to the
handle of the broken pitcher. The front of her cotton dress was soaked,
but she was not hurt.
"I'll get whipped, yas'm, I will, fer breaking the pitcher."
"You won't!" declared Sylvia, half angrily. "It's my mother's pitcher,
and I'll tell her you didn't mean to break it. Now you go and put on
another dress, and tell Jennie to come up here and wipe up this floor."
"I ain't got no other dress; an' if I goes an' tells I'll get whipped,"
persisted the child.
Sylvia began to wonder what she could do. She thought Estralla was
stupid and clumsy to fall down and break the pitcher, and now she
thought her silly to be so frightened.

"I tells you, Missy, I su'ly will be whipped," she repeated so earnestly
that Sylvia began to believe it. "An' when my mammy sees my dress all
wet--" and Estralla began to sob, but so quietly that Sylvia realized the
little darky was really frightened and unhappy.
"Don't cry, Estralla," she said more gently, patting her on the shoulder.
"I'll tell you what to do. You are just about my size, and I'll give you
one of my dresses. It's pink, and it's faded a little, but it's pretty. And
you take this towel and wipe up the floor as well as you can. Then you
slip off your dress and put on mine." While Sylvia talked Estralla
stopped crying and began to look a little more cheerful.
Sylvia ran to the closet and was back in a moment with a pink checked
gingham. It had a number of tiny ruffles on the skirt, and a little frill of
lace around the neck.
"Landy! You don't mean I kin KEEP that, Missy?" exclaimed Estralla,
her face radiant at the very thought.
"Yes, quick. Somebody may come. Slip off your dress."
In a moment the old blue frock lay in a little heap on the floor, and
Sylvia had slipped the pink dress over Estralla's head, and was
fastening it. The little darky chuckled and laughed now as if she had
not a trouble in the world.
"Listen, Estralla! Here, pick up every bit of the pitcher and put the
pieces on the chair. Nobody shall know that you broke it. And now you
take this wet towel and your dress and spread them somewhere
outdoors to dry. You can tell your mammy I gave you the dress. Now,
run quick. My mother may come."
Estralla stood quite still looking at Sylvia. She had stopped laughing.
"Will you' mammy scold you 'bout dat pitcher?" she asked.
"I don't know. Anyway, nobody shall know that you broke it. You
won't be whipped. Run along," urged Sylvia.

But Estralla did not move. "I don't keer if I is whipped," she announced.
"I guess, mebbe, my mammy won't whip hard."
"Sylvia, Sylvia," sounded her mother's voice, and both the little girls
looked at each other with startled eyes.
"Run," said Sylvia, giving Estralla a little push. "Run out on the
balcony." Estralla did not question the command, and in a moment,
carrying dress and towel, she had vanished through the open window.
"Why, child! What has happened?" exclaimed Mrs. Fulton, coming into
the room and looking at the overturned footstool, the pieces of the
broken pitcher, and at Sylvia standing in the middle