A Little Florida Lady | Page 6

what's the use of talking
about them," interrupted practical Marian.
"Mamma says our thoughts are the real fairies," returned Beth, nothing
daunted, and added, "papa has given me plenty of good ones to-day."
"I was in great luck to secure this place," said Mr. Davenport. "It had
just been put on the market as Mr. Marlowe, the former owner, was
called North by the death of his wife. The agent brought me out this
morning, and I was so delighted with it that I would look no farther. I

found the title all right, and so I signed the papers at once."
CHAPTER II
The New Home
The house on the place just described was a rambling two-storied
building with many porches--a typical vine-covered Southern cottage.
It was picturesque from every side, and seemed to have no prosaic back.
Marechal Niel roses, and honeysuckles, and some tropical vines,
climbed over latticework almost to the roof. There were, also, many
trees near the house, some of which were rare.
[Illustration: Beth's new home. (Illustration missing from book)]
A colored woman bustled out of a side door, and looked down the road
leading to the gate through which the Davenports' carriage had entered.
Evidently, she was no common negro, but had served "quality" all her
life--a typical old-time mammy. A red bandanna was drawn tightly
over her short curly wool. Her dress was of flowered calico, and around
her neck was a brilliant-hued shawl. A neat gingham apron covered her
skirt. Her face broke into a smile, and she pointed to the palm-lined
driveway.
"Yo' Titus--yo' Glory--Indianna--all yo' niggahs come hyere. De new
massa and missus am comin'," she called.
Out from the house, from the fields, from the quarters, they came
trooping; old and young; weazened and pretty; black and yellow; all
rolling their gleaming black eyes in the direction of the carriage which
they saw come to a sudden standstill.
"What's de mattah?" they cried, and one young darky started down the
road to see. He beheld January descend from the carriage, and walk to a
persimmon tree and pluck some of the fruit.
The darky wondered what was to be done with the fruit that he knew
was still green. His curiosity made him sneak up within earshot.

January returned to the carriage, and handed the fruit to Beth. The
darky heard him say:
"I wouldn't eat dem, Missy Beth, if I wuz yo'. Dey am powerful green."
To her the little round fruit looked very tempting, especially the light
yellow ones. Therefore she did not heed him. She selected one, but,
instead of taking a dainty nibble, she put the whole fruit into her mouth,
and bit down on it. Immediately, she set up a cry, and spit out the
persimmon. "Ow-ow-ow, how it puckers!"
January chuckled, and, before driving on, he said: "I tole yo' so, Missy
Beth."
Marian laughed until she was tired. "Beth, if you are drawn up inside
the way your face is outside, it must be terrible."
"It is. It is." But she did not receive any sympathy. Even Mr. Davenport
laughed at her. He had told her not to have January get them, but she
had insisted on having her own way.
"Beth," he said, "I hope this may teach you a lesson. You must not taste
things that you know nothing about."
Her mouth was still so drawn up that she did not care to do any more
tasting--at least, not for the present. When she thought nobody was
looking, she let the rest of the persimmons roll out of the carriage.
"What do they all do?" asked Beth as the carriage came to a standstill,
and she noted the waiting negroes. As January helped her out, he
chuckled, and swelled visibly with pride. "Dey all work for us, Missy
Beth. She's de boss," he added in a low tone pointing to the colored
woman with the bandanna. "Dat's Maggie; yo'd bettah make up with
her."
[Illustration: Maggie, a typical old-time mammy.]
The darkies courtesied. Their manners were of the old school. Beth ran

up to Maggie.
"I hope you'll like me, Maggie, for I know I'll like you."
Maggie's face beamed. "Of cou'se, honey, I jes' kan't help likin' yo'.
Yo'se de sweetest little missy I knows," and then she added: "Massa,
I'se 'sidered yore proposition, an' me an' Titus 'cided to stay."
"All right, Maggie. You can show Mrs. Davenport and the children
around the house."
Marian was willing to go with her mother, but Beth hung back.
"I don't care for the house. I want to see the front yard and river. May I
go, papa?"
"If you'll come back in half an hour, you may go."
"All right, papa," and Beth was off like a flash around the corner of