THE STORY-TELLER.

Evening Post, Volume LXXII, Issue 66, 15 September 1906, Page 10

THE STORY-TELLER.

• JSmma Janets Surpt'ise ". , . .. Partiji , ; Emma • Jane-, face upward; lay-stretch-ed full length upon the grass beneath the wide-spfea,ding ' branches of a giant chestnut on tf»& lawn of tho great house. Jo all appearances with the true appreciation of her race for tne occupation, just "doin' nothin' "tall." Looks, however, are often most deceiving. The truth is Emma Jano was hard at work thinking ; an occupation no unusual and stupendous that the very effort it required caused the little kinks of woolly hair in their harness of strings to fairly stand upright all over her dead. Emma Jane had but recently recovered from a. severe attack of "de chill 'p. feyah," during which "Mis' Alice," her mistress, had tended -her with such tender solicitude that ever since the pickaninny's, heart had been swollen with gratitude crying for an outlet. It was not until that very day, though that the form this outlet should take "bad been clear to Emma Jane, and then 4he suggestion was prompted by a conversation she overhead at the house •bout the Fourth of July, which would fell on Wednesday of that week, and its attendant* jollities. Now, though Emma Jane's Tdeas of independence were of the- vaguest, she knew that the day was a red-letter one, and, for that reason, moro suited to the inspiration which had come to her, and which, as she lay on her back under the old chestnut, she -was turning over in her brain. A surprise dinner for her mistress, this was the inspiration that had come to Emma Jane. The details of the dining, such, as would have given Mis' Alice the liveliest concern, troubled her little handmaiden not at all ; for when) *o reasoned Emma Jane, was there a time that the larder, "up to de great fcouee," boasted not only enougli but to spare? Oh! no; these minor matters troubled not Emma Jane. The thing which did stretch her brain on tie rack was, how to get word to 'the guests. Isona knew better than she that a surprise dinner on her own account, no matter what motive prompted it, was sure to lack appreciation by "do quality," and on such a momentous occasion no others were even to be considered. At last, after much brain fagging, Emma Jane's lax conscience suggested >> bold plan. She would slip out in the early morning while her mother, "Aunt" Julie's, eyes were still heavy with sleep, borrow Dixie, the children's pony, run the risk of a scolding from her Unstress and a. drubbing from Aunt, Julie, and deliver the invitations in peruon. Bnt fate played into Emma Jane's hands. Late that evening her mistress gave orders that Emma Jane was to take Dixie and ride over to Rookwood, a neighbouring plantation, bright and early thejiext morning, to borrow a pattern. This decree'sent the originator of the surprise dinner idea to bed rejoicing for proverbially known "never to get back" when sent on on errand, ohe had practically the whole day beJore her. " ~~ ' To the astonishment of the Rook■wood pickaninnies Emma Jane barely exchanged mutual "howdies" and \ grins •with them, although they used all their known wiles to top. her off to the quarters. Her errand dispatched, and the additional message : "Mis' Alice say as low she lek ter hab ye' all spen' de •day 'n tek Fo'th July dinneh wid heh," Emma Jane was on Dixie's back and away to "Walnut Grove, then to Midlothian, and then, in turn, to each oi the other neighbouring plantations where ah,?,, delivered, in substance, the same invitation. "It does seem a little strange," said Mrs. West, of Grove Hall, to her husband, "thai Alice did not write a note instead of sending a verbal message by that harum-scarum Emma Jane. But I suppose it's all right ; and, as it's only two days off, Alice is very busy. You know Emm;* Jane said the whole neighbourhood was' invited." ; And the good lady, knowing the record of The Pines for hospitality, felt no more concern as to the source of the invitation. The next day was one of excruciating torture for Emma Jane, who was * in constant fear" that her, scheme "would be disclosed 'for^ some " chance visitor. But again fate *ras merciful. Night closed, in and her secret was- still her own. . - The Fourth dawned fair and warm. Emma Jane was up early— fi o early, in xact, that when Aunt Julie opened her ryes with the day, they rested upon an unusual sight — Emma Jane up and dressed, standing in front of the bit of looking-glass which hung above tho table, untying the stiff little twists of hair that were only undone on special occasions. 'To' Gawd's sake, chile, what air ■jo* doin'," burst out Aunt Julie. Then in a softer voice, for to hei superstitious mind- (everything unusual had some significance, "Is yo' sick, honey? Dis am' Sl&day." . » , -i .. j "Law, no, mammy, I am sick, and gmma Jane showed 'a double row of teeth of pearly whiteness; "dis air de Fo'th of July, 'n I gwi' cei'brate." "Sho' nuff, 1 ' said Aunt Julie, refleciively and in a much relieved tone, "1 did heah de chill'ns tawkin' ter dee paw 'bout fotch'n dey oome dem squiz•sin' things fo' de Fou'th. But I am' 'low der 'gwi' call on yo' all ter fiah «lem off," and Aunt Julie chuckling over her little joke, proceeded to 'make her own hasty toilet. If worried and preoccupied on the preceding day, Emma Jane was altogether absent in the spirit on the morning of tho Fourth, and it was a genuine relief to Aunt Julie when she was Kommoned to the nursery to amuse the baby. Those were the days when spending the day was taken literally, yet 10 o'clock came and not a single visitor had arrived. Emma Janes- nervousness burned to distress. Could it be that her secret had been discovered? She was just on the point of confessing all and throwing herself upon the mercy of her mistress, when, at the stroke of 10.30, her ear caught the sound of wheels and her heart sang for joy. "Dee's comp'ny comin', Mis' Alice, excitedly volunteered Emma Jane, running to the nursery window and peering out. • , "Are you sure, Emma Jane? Ana here I aro in. my wrapper. Run down quickly and see who it is." Emma Jane was down and back again in an incredibly short time, bringing with her the astounding news: — -"Deo sho -is, Mis- Alice, de Hawkins fceerWge chock "full, 'n' hehin 1 dem do Cabell kecridge,'n' furr down de lane 'nuh one ; 'n' all on "'em comin heh to vre-alls, too. Yo' know dis air do Fo'th of -July, Mis' Alice," and Emma Jane In the ecstasy of success began to dance about the 'room, a lapse of discipline which her mistress, who, by- peering through the window, had verflied Emma Jane's statement, was too astonished to notice. ' ' "What could it mean? Visitors were by no means rare at The Pines, but for several carriage /load*:, (Emma Jane s cordial "Yo' all" .bach included tho •families in general) arrive simultaneougly"and uninvited 1* But/timo was tod valuable just then to hunt for a R^ution to the riddle,. A hasty, toilfib.

must be made and the guests welcomedTho hospitality of Tho Pines might be surprised, but never strained. Meantime, below stairs, though as much taken aback as his mistress, Ben the butler, with the breeding of the Virginia servant of tho old regime, was admitting the inflow of' visitors, while jcoloured maids, sent by their mistress to tho scene of action, looked after' their comfort. • i "It is rather odd," whispered Mrs. Preston to her sister Miss Jenny,' "that Alice is not ready to receive us. Surely there could have been no mistake." ,The sweet and cordial welcome of the mistress of the household when she did appear, — and though 'in reality far at sea, seemed to be entirely at homo in both mind and body, — set all the misgivings of her guests at rest, _ and she was forgiven the lapse in Virginian etiquette, which, in that day, expected tho hostess to meet her guests, if not at the stile, at least half way down the walk leading to the house. Half-past 11 found twenty-five persons, young and old, comfortably disposed in the gool, double parlours and on the shady porches of the great house. The mistress made note of the number, and as sho compared it with the mental review she made of her larder, her heart sank within her. At the earliest possible moment word was sent to the kitchen to prepare a dinner on a scale befitting the occasion. But in this, Emma Jane, upon whom responsibility had at least dawned, fore-> stalled her mistress by slipping down the back stairs at the moment Mis' Alice descended the front, hastening to the kitchen and almost breathlessly announcing, "De house chock full 'n' runnin' oveh ; 'n' dee- all gwi' stay for' dinneh; 'n' mo' comin', .too." So it happened that before the last of the guests -had been welcomed preparations were well under way for the feast. Under Aunt Julie's capable directions all hands were set to work ; Even Emm} Jane was, as Aunt Julie said afterward, "fo' onct in heh life a rale comfo't." ' As the result of combined labour and skill the dinner served that Fourth of July at The Pines was of such quality and quantity that it has been handed down among the notable events of the neighbourhood ; and neither the gra- j cious host nor his smiling lady, — both ! of whom were in reality so bewildered that they scarcely knew whether it was their own or someono else's board over which they were presiding, — betrayed by look or manner that they themselves were not the promoters of the entertainment. It was not until after the ljst goodbye had been said, tno last adieu waved from the stile to the departing 1 , guests, while Marse Henry and Mis' ' Alice, sitting alone in the quiet evening, were vainly puzzling their minds over the day's mystery, that they learned the truth. A hesitating step was heard approaching them, from behind. Then the form of Emma Jane came into view, her face illumined with a broad grin, half of embarrassment and half of delight. "What is it, Emma Jane," asked her mistress. "I dono hit, Mis' Alice." "Did what, Emma Jane?" " 'Vited de folkses." "Do you mean, Emma Jane," 6aid her mistress more astounded than before, "that you, you, Emma Jane, invited these people here to-day?" "Yas'm, dat jes hit, Mis' Alice. I dono mek yo' a presen' o' dis Fo'th of July party case yo' nuss me so good w'en I done had de chills 'n' feveh. Yas'm, dats jes hit," and Emma Jane, still flushed with the success of her venture, looked up cheerfully. "How dare you, Emma Jane, don't" — but the sentence was never finished. A glance at the culprit's face, which a moment before had been beaming with | the expectancy of approval, but which with her mistress's words had assumed an expression of blank amazement and grief, stayed them ; and instead of the rebuke conscience warned her should have been given, what she did say was : — "Ttank you, Emma Jane. It was very sweet' of you to give me such a delightful present," — words which again brought the sunshine instantly into Emma Jane's heart and face, and oven the severe drubbing she received from Aunt Julie when the truth leaked out, could not drive it away. — i^atherine E. Megee, in the Springfield Republican.