Peggy O'Neal. Alfred Henry Lewis
While the General was greeting Peg—rather effusively for him, so I thought—Jim, detaining me at the door, took the liberty of a private word.
“Now you-all is yere, Marse Major,” observed Jim, and his manner was of complaint and weariness, “an' where Marse Gen'ral kin keep a eye on you, I feels free an' safe to go projectin' 'round about my own consarns. I was boun' I wouldn't leave you alone, Marse Major, in d' parlors; I shore tells you it makes Jim draw long brefs an' puts him to fear an' tremblin' lest every minute's gwine to be his nex', while any woman as han'some as dish yere Missis Eaton is pesterin' nigh. You-all can't tell what dey'll do, or what you'll do! Which Jim has knowed Love to up an' prounce on a man like a mink on a settin' hen; an' him jes' merely lookin' at one of them sirens, as d' good book calls'em. That's d' shore enough fac', Marse Major; an' you-all oughter be mighty keerful an' keep Jim hoverin' about d' lan'scape at all sech meetin's. It's a heap safer, that a-way; you hyar Jim!” At this point of warning Jim stopped like a clock that has run down.
“You asked me if you might have one drink from the demijohn in my closet,” I said. “Yassir, Marse Major, I does.”
“You took four, you scoundrel; you took at least four, as I can tell by the mill-wheel clatter of your tongue.”
“On'y three, Marse Major; on'y three. An' you don't want to disrecollect Marse Major, pore old Jim's got a heap on his mind to make him thirsty.”
“I shall not disrecollect, as you call it, to lock my closet door. I don't propose, sir, to furnish you forty-year-old whisky to become the inspiration of such crazy harangues as I've just listened to.”
My voice was stern, and the awful threat of locking the closet door took vastly the heart out of Jim.
“Why, Marse Major,” he began apologetically, “Jim warn't aimin' to say nothin' to cumfusticate you; Jim was talkin' for your good. I wouldn't go for to lock up that closet, Marse Major; how's Jim gwine to get your clothes to bresh? Besides, Jim's done said his say, an' arter this he'll nacherally go about as cat-foot an' as wary an' as quiet as a coon at noon, that's what Jim will. You has heard d' las' word from Jim, Marse Major; d' very las' word. On'y don't go for to lock that closet door; if you does, most likely we'll lose d' key an' it's gwine to get in our way.”
“Well, sir, we shall see,” I replied, severely. “One thing is certain; I'm not to have my servant, at the age of seventy, make a drunken show of himself. I'll send you back to Tennessee, first.”
Jim departed, sensibly subdued.
With Peg and the General I found Eaton, who arrived while I was receiving my lecture from the sapient Jim. We greeted each other with warmth, and I could see that Peg felt this warmth and took a glow from it. Dear girl! he was her all; she had friendship for those who were his friends, love for those who loved him; and, twisting a commandment, Peg would do unto others as they did unto him.
Eaton was a blond, ruddy man. As we released each other's hands, he said:
“I'm here to offer my thanks to the General. I was speaking of this cabinet matter to my colleague, White. He is greatly pleased. By the way, General,”—here Eaton wheeled on the General—“my senate seat will want an occupant. Why not prevail on our friend, the Major, to take it?”
“No, no!” responded the General, quickly and with a gay energy; “that would never match my plans. The Major, or I much mistake, must go with me to the White House. I could not carry on my administration unless I found him quarreling at my elbow whenever I turned my head.”
“And if 'carry on' be the name of it, who is to carry on my farms?” I asked.
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