As Tidy grew in stature she grew in favor also with those around her. Spry but gentle in her movements, obedient, obliging, and apt to learn, she secured the good-will of her master and mistress, and the visitors that thronged to the place. If any little service was to be performed which required more than usual care or expedition, she was the one to be called upon to do it. It was no easy task to please a person so fretful and impatient in spirit as Mrs. Lee, yet Tidy, by her promptness and docility, succeeded admirably. Still, with all her well-doing she was not able entirely to avoid her harshness and cruelty.
One day, when she had been several months in Mrs. Lee's family, she was set to find a ball of yarn which had become detached from her mistress's knitting-work. Diligently she hunted for it every-where,—in Mammy Grace's cabin, on the veranda, in the drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, up-stairs, down-stairs, and in the lady's chamber, but no ball was to be found. The mistress grew impatient, and the child searched again. The mistress became unreasonable and threatened, and the child really began to tremble for fear of undeserved chastisement. What could she do?
What do you think she did? I will tell you?
Ever since that first night with Mammy Grace, when Tidy had asked her what it was to pray, and had been told, "When we wants any ting we can't git oursefs, nohow, we asks de Lord to gib it to us," these words had been treasured in her memory; but as yet she had never had an opportunity to put them to a practical use; for up to this time she had not really wanted any thing. Her necessities were all supplied even better than she had reason to expect; for in addition to the plain but sufficient fare that was allowed her in the cabin, she was never a day without luxuries from the table of the family. Fruits, tarts, and many a choice bit of cake, found their way through the children's hands to their little favorite, so that she had nothing to wish for in the eating line. Her services with the children were so much in accordance with her taste as to be almost pastime, and the old nurse was as kind and good as a mother could be. Never until this day had she been brought into a real strait; and it was in this emergency that she thought to put Mammy Grace's suggestion to the test. She had attended the weekly prayer or "praisin'-meetin's" as they were called, and observed that when the men and women prayed, they seemed to talk in a familiar way with this invisible Lord; and she determined to do the same. As she went out for the third time from the presence of her mistress, downcast and unhappy, she thought that if she only had such eyes as the Lord had, which Mammy Grace repeatedly told her were in every place, considering every little thing in the earth, she would know just where to go to find the missing ball. At that thought something seemed to whisper, "Pray."
She darted out of the door, ran across the yard, making her way as speedily as possible to the only retired spot she knew of. This was a deep gully at the back of the house, through which a tiny stream of water crept, just moistening the roots of the wild cherry and alder bushes which grew there in great abundance, and keeping the grass fresh and green all the summer long. No one ever came to this spot excepting now and then the laundress with a piece of linen to bleach, or the children to play hide-and-seek of a moonlight evening. Here she fell upon her knees, and lifting up her hands as she had seen others do, she said,—
"Blessed Lord, I want to find missus' ball of yarn, and I can't. You know whar 'tis. Show me, so I sha'n't get cracks over my head with the big key. Hallelujah, amen."
She didn't know, innocent child, what this "Hallelujah, amen," meant; but she remembered that Uncle Simon always ended in that way, and she supposed it had something important to do with the prayer. So she uttered it with a feeling of great satisfaction, as though that capped the climax of her duty, and put the seal of acceptance on her petition; and then she got up and walked away, as sure as could be that the ball would be forthcoming. I dare say she expected to see it rolling out before her from some unthought-of corner as she went along.
Do not laugh at the poor little slave girl, children, or ridicule the idea of her taking such a small thing to the Lord. If you, and older people too, were in the habit of carrying all your little troubles to the throne of grace, I am sure you would find help that you little dream of. If the Lord in his greatness regards the little sparrows, so that not one of them shall fall to the ground without his notice, and if he numbers the hairs of our heads, surely there is nothing that can give us uneasiness of mind or sorrow of heart too small to commend to his notice. I wish we might all follow Tidy's example, and I have no doubt that our heavenly Father, who is quite willing to have his words and his love tested, would answer us as he did her.
She went directly to the house, carefully looking this way and that, as if expecting, as I said, that the ball would suddenly appear before her,—of course it did not,—and passing across the veranda, entered the hall. A great, old-fashioned, eight-day clock, like the pendulum that hung in the farmer's kitchen so long, and got tired of ticking, I imagine, stood in one corner. Just at the foot of this, Tidy saw a white string protruding. She forgot for the moment what she was hunting after, and stooped to pick up the string. She pulled at it, but it seemed to catch in something and slipped through her fingers. She pulled again, when lo and behold! out came the ball of yarn. Didn't her eyes sparkle? Didn't her hands twitch with excitement, as she picked it up and carried it to her mistress? So much for praying, said she to herself; I shall know what to do the next time I get into trouble.
The next time the affair proved a more serious one. It was no less than a search for Frances, who had again been guilty of some misdemeanor, and had hidden herself away to escape punishment. On the second day of her absence, Mrs. Lee called Tidy, and instructed her to search for the girl, with the assurance that if she didn't find her, she herself should get the whipping. It was no very pleasant prospect for Tidy, but she set to her task earnestly. A half-day she spent going over the premises,—the house, the out-buildings, the quarters, and the pine-woods opposite; but the girl was not to be found.
Afraid to come and report her want of success, for a while she was quite in despair; until again she bethought herself of prayer, and out she ran to the gully. There she cried,—
"Lord, I's very anxious to find France. I'll thank you to show me whar she is, and make missus merciful, so she sha'n't lash neither one of us. Oh, if I could only find France. Blessed Lord, you can help me find her"——
She was pleading very earnestly when a voice suddenly interrupted her, and there, at her side, stood the girl.
"Who's dat ar you's conbersin wid 'bout me, little goose?" asked Frances.
"Oh, France," cried Tidy in delight, "whar was you? Missus set me lookin' for yer, and she said she'd whip all the skin off me, if I didn't find yer. Whar's you been?"
"Laws, you nummy, ye don't specs now I's gwine to let all dis yer plantation know dat secret. Ho, ho, ho! If I telled, I couldn't go dar 'gin no way. I's comed here for my dinner, caus specs dis chile can't starve nohow. See, my mudder knows whar to put de bones for dis yer chile," and pushing aside the bushes, she displayed an ample supply of eatables, which she fell to devouring greedily. Tidy had to reason long and stoutly with the refractory girl before she could persuade her to return to the house; and when she accomplished her purpose, she was probably not aware of the real motive that wrought in that dark, stupid negro mind. It was not the fear of an increased punishment, if she remained longer absent,—it was not the faint hope that Tidy held up, that if she humbly asked her mistress's pardon, she might be forgiven,—but the thought that if she did not at once return, Tidy must suffer in her stead, was too much for her. She was, notwithstanding her black skin and rude nature, too generous to allow that.
So the two wended their way to the kitchen in great trepidation, and Tidy, stepping round to the sitting-room, timidly informed her mistress of the arrival, adding in most beseeching manner, "Please, Missus, don't whip her, 'caus she's so sorry."
"You mind your own business, little sauce-box, or you'll catch it too. When I want your advice, I'll come for it," and seizing her whip which she kept on a shelf close by, she proceeded to the kitchen. Miss Matilda followed, determined to see that justice was done to one at least.
The poor frightened girl fell on her knees.
"Oh, Missus," she cried, "dear Missus, do 'scuse me. I'll neber do dat ting over 'gin! I'll neber run away 'gin! I'll neber do noffin! Oh, Missus, please don't, oh, dear,"—as notwithstanding the appeal, the angry blow fell. Before another could descend, Miss Matilda laid her hand upon her sister's arm.
"Excuse the girl, Susan," she said, gently, "excuse her just this once, and give her a trial. See if she won't do better."
It was very hard, for it was contrary to her nature, for Mrs. Lee to show mercy. However, she did yield, and after a very severe reprimand to the culprit, and a very unreasonable, angry speech to Tidy, who, to to [sic] her thinking, had become implicated in Frances' guilt, she dismissed them both from her presence,—the one chuckling over her fortunate escape, and the other querying in her mind, whether or no this unhoped-for mercy was another answer to prayer. Miss Matilda made a remark as they retired, which Tidy heard, whether it was designed for her ear or not.
"I always have designed to give that child her liberty when she is old enough; and if any thing prevents my doing so, I hope she will take it herself."
Take her liberty! What did that mean? Tidy laid up the saying, and pondered it in her heart.
Does any one of our little readers ask why Miss Matilda did not free the child then? Tidy's services paid her owner's board at her brother's house, and she couldn't afford to give away her very subsistence; COULD SHE?
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