t were the colored people but the shadows
of the white people, following them and imitating them in a childlike,
humorous, innocent way? How difficult for selfishness, seeking its own
happiness, to understand Mammy and Jenny, whose whole happiness and
undivided heart were in giving happiness to Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy!

I spoke my plan to Dorothy, "Come, let's take mother, Mammy, and Jenny
with us. Close the house for good. I want all of you. We can transfer
all this happiness to Chicago. I will get a big house. I have some one
now with whom to share my riches. This sharing is the beginning of my
real satisfaction in life."

Dorothy took my hand, pressed her cheek against mine. "Oh, my dear, my
dear!" was all she said. I felt her cheek moistening with tears. Then
drawing her to me I said: "Yes, my dear, that is my wish. Let us drive
back now and tell mother."

Mrs. Clayton was silent for some seconds. Then she said: "Aren't you
best alone? Take Mammy and Jenny if you wish. But perhaps I can't be a
mother to you, James; perhaps you won't want to be a son to me as time
goes on. These things must come to mothers and fathers. The daughters
find new homes and go away. I did that. And now Dorothy has the same
right."

"No," I said, with emphasis, "I want you. I want to transfer this whole
atmosphere to Chicago. I want all of you with me. I do not wish you to
wander off on this visit. After that what, anyway? You should not be
separated from Dorothy. Come, and if you want to go on a visit from
Chicago, well and good."

If this was to be, there was much to do. Could we wait until the house
was rented, or at least placed with an agent, the furnishings stored if
necessary? Yes, I could wait and Dorothy could wait. And day by day both
of us importuned Mrs. Clayton to come with us. She saw at last that it
was our dearest wish. And she yielded.

In the meanwhile Dorothy and I were driving about the country or sitting
under the trees in the yard, living through great rapture, mothered by
Mrs. Clayton, and so constantly served by Mammy and Jenny and Mose.

Then the day came. The house was rented. Mrs. Clayton stored some of her
furnishings. The choicest things she gave to Dorothy--lovely mahogany
and silver.

On a morning, with Mammy and Jenny in our traveling party, with Mose
helping us to the boat, hiding his saddened spirit under a forced humor,
with Mrs. Rutledge and many friends to see us off, we took our
departure. Ag