I CREPT to their doors and listened;
they was snoring. So I tiptoed
along, and got down stairs all
right. There warn't a sound anywheres.
I peeped through a crack of the
dining-room door, and see the
men that was watching the corpse
all sound asleep on their chairs.
The door was open into the parlor,
where the corpse was laying,
and there was a candle in both
rooms. I passed along, and the
parlor door was open; but I see
there warn't nobody in there
but the remainders of Peter;
so I shoved on by; but the front
door was locked, and the key
wasn't there. Just then I heard
somebody coming down the stairs,
back behind me. I run in the
parlor and took a swift look
around, and the only place I
see to hide the bag was in the
coffin. The lid was shoved along
about a foot, showing the dead
man's face down in there, with
a wet cloth over it, and his
shroud on. I tucked the moneybag
in under the lid, just down beyond
where his hands was crossed,
which made me creep, they was
so cold, and then I run back
across the room and in behind
the door.
The person coming was Mary
Jane. She went to the coffin,
very soft, and kneeled down and
looked in; then she put up her
handkerchief, and I see she begun
to cry, though I couldn't hear
her, and her back was to me.
I slid out, and as I passed the
dining-room I thought I'd make
sure them watchers hadn't seen
me; so I looked through the crack,
and everything was all right.
They hadn't stirred.
I slipped up to bed, feeling
ruther blue, on accounts of the
thing playing out that way after
I had took so much trouble and
run so much resk about it. Says
I, if it could stay where it
is, all right; because when we
get down the river a hundred
mile or two I could write back
to Mary Jane, and she could dig
him up again and get it; but
that ain't the thing that's going
to happen; the thing that's going
to happen is, the money 'll be
found when they come to screw
on the lid. Then the king 'll
get it again, and it 'll be a
long day before he gives anybody
another chance to smouch it from
him. Of course I WANTED to slide
down and get it out of there,
but I dasn't try it. Every minute
it was getting earlier now, and
pretty soon some of them watchers
would begin to stir, and I might
get catched -- catched with six
thousand dollars in my hands
that nobody hadn't hired me to
take care of. I don't wish to
be mixed up in no such business
as that, I says to myself.
When I got down stairs in the
morning the parlor was shut up,
and the watchers was gone. There
warn't nobody around but the
family and the widow Bartley
and our tribe. I watched their
faces to see if anything had
been happening, but I couldn't
tell.
Towards the middle of the day
the undertaker come with his
man, and they set the coffin
in the middle of the room on
a couple of chairs, and then
set all our chairs in rows, and
borrowed more from the neighbors
till the hall and the parlor
and the dining-room was full.
I see the coffin lid was the
way it was before, but I dasn't
go to look in under it, with
folks around.
Then the people begun to flock
in, and the beats and the girls
took seats in the front row at
the head of the coffin, and for
a half an hour the people filed
around slow, in single rank,
and looked down at the dead man's
face a minute, and some dropped
in a tear, and it was all very
still and solemn, only the girls
and the beats holding handkerchiefs
to their eyes and keeping their
heads bent, and sobbing a little.
There warn't no other sound but
the scraping of the feet on the
floor and blowing noses -- because
people always blows them more
at a funeral than they do at
other places except church.
When the place was packed full
the undertaker he slid around
in his black gloves with his
softy soothering ways, putting
on the last touches, and getting
people and things all ship-shape
and comfortable, and making no
more sound than a cat. He never
spoke; he moved people around,
he squeezed in late ones, he
opened up passageways, and done
it with nods, and signs with
his hands. Then he took his place
over against the wall. He was
the softest, glidingest, stealthiest
man I ever see; and there warn't
no more smile to him than there
is to a ham.
They had borrowed
a melodeum -- a sick one; and
when everything
was ready a young woman set down
and worked it, and it was pretty
skreeky and colicky, and everybody
joined in and sung, and Peter
was the only one that had a good
thing, according to my notion.
Then the Reverend Hobson opened
up, slow and solemn, and begun
to talk; and straight off the
most outrageous row busted out
in the cellar a body ever heard;
it was only one dog, but he made
a most powerful racket, and he
kept it up right along; the parson
he had to stand there, over the
coffin, and wait -- you couldn't
hear yourself think. It was right
down awkward, and nobody didn't
seem to know what to do. But
pretty soon they see that long-legged
undertaker make a sign to the
preacher as much as to say, "Don't
you worry -- just depend on me." Then
he stooped down and begun to
glide along the wall, just his
shoulders showing over the people's
heads. So he glided along, and
the powwow and racket getting
more and more outrageous all
the time; and at last, when he
had gone around two sides of
the room, he disappears down
cellar. Then in about two seconds
we heard a whack, and the dog
he finished up with a most amazing
howl or two, and then everything
was dead still, and the parson
begun his solemn talk where he
left off. In a minute or two
here comes this undertaker's
back and shoulders gliding along
the wall again; and so he glided
and glided around three sides
of the room, and then rose up,
and shaded his mouth with his
hands, and stretched his neck
out towards the preacher, over
the people's heads, and says,
in a kind of a coarse whisper, "HE
HAD A RAT!" Then he drooped down
and glided along the wall again
to his place. You could see it
was a great satisfaction to the
people, because naturally they
wanted to know. A little thing
like that don't cost nothing,
and it's just the little things
that makes a man to be looked
up to and liked. There warn't
no more popular man in town than
what that undertaker was.
Well, the funeral sermon was
very good, but pison long and
tiresome; and then the king he
shoved in and got off some of
his usual rubbage, and at last
the job was through, and the
undertaker begun to sneak up
on the coffin with his screw-driver.
I was in a sweat then, and watched
him pretty keen. But he never
meddled at all; just slid the
lid along as soft as mush, and
screwed it down tight and fast.
So there I was! I didn't know
whether the money was in there
or not. So, says I, s'pose somebody
has hogged that bag on the sly?
-- now how do I know whether
to write to Mary Jane or not?
S'pose she dug him up and didn't
find nothing, what would she
think of me? Blame it, I says,
I might get hunted up and jailed;
I'd better lay low and keep dark,
and not write at all; the thing's
awful mixed now; trying to better
it, I've worsened it a hundred
times, and I wish to goodness
I'd just let it alone, dad fetch
the whole business!
They buried him, and we come
back home, and I went to watching
faces again -- I couldn't help
it, and I couldn't rest easy.
But nothing come of it; the faces
didn't tell me nothing.
The king he visited around
in the evening, and sweetened
everybody up, and made himself
ever so friendly; and he give
out the idea that his congregation
over in England would be in a
sweat about him, so he must hurry
and settle up the estate right
away and leave for home. He was
very sorry he was so pushed,
and so was everybody; they wished
he could stay longer, but they
said they could see it couldn't
be done. And he said of course
him and William would take the
girls home with them; and that
pleased everybody too, because
then the girls would be well
fixed and amongst their own relations;
and it pleased the girls, too
-- tickled them so they clean
forgot they ever had a trouble
in the world; and told him to
sell out as quick as he wanted
to, they would be ready. Them
poor things was that glad and
happy it made my heart ache to
see them getting fooled and lied
to so, but I didn't see no safe
way for me to chip in and change
the general tune.
Well, blamed if the king didn't
bill the house and the niggers
and all the property for auction
straight off -- sale two days
after the funeral; but anybody
could buy private beforehand
if they wanted to.
So the next day after the funeral,
along about noontime, the girls'
joy got the first jolt. A couple
of nigger traders come along,
and the king sold them the niggers
reasonable, for three-day drafts
as they called it, and away they
went, the two sons up the river
to Memphis, and their mother
down the river to Orleans. I
thought them poor girls and them
niggers would break their hearts
for grief; they cried around
each other, and took on so it
most made me down sick to see
it. The girls said they hadn't
ever dreamed of seeing the family
separated or sold away from the
town. I can't ever get it out
of my memory, the sight of them
poor miserable girls and niggers
hanging around each other's necks
and crying; and I reckon I couldn't
a stood it all, but would a had
to bust out and tell on our gang
if I hadn't knowed the sale warn't
no account and the niggers would
be back home in a week or two.
The thing made a big stir in
the town, too, and a good many
come out flatfooted and said
it was scandalous to separate
the mother and the children that
way. It injured the frauds some;
but the old fool he bulled right
along, spite of all the duke
could say or do, and I tell you
the duke was powerful uneasy.
Next day was auction day. About
broad day in the morning the
king and the duke come up in
the garret and woke me up, and
I see by their look that there
was trouble. The king says:
"Was you in
my room night before last?"
"No, your majesty" --
which was the way I always
called him
when nobody but our gang warn't
around.
"Was you in
there yisterday er last night?"
"No, your majesty."
"Honor bright,
now -- no lies."
"Honor bright,
your majesty, I'm telling you
the truth. I
hain't been a-near your room
since Miss Mary Jane took you
and the duke and showed it to
you."
The duke says:
"Have you seen
anybody else go in there?"
"No, your grace,
not as I remember, I believe."
"Stop and think."
I studied awhile and see my
chance; then I says:
"Well, I see
the niggers go in there several
times."
Both of them gave a little
jump, and looked like they hadn't
ever expected it, and then like
they HAD. Then the duke says:
"What, all
of them?"
"No -- leastways,
not all at once -- that is,
I don't think
I ever see them all come OUT
at once but just one time."
"Hello! When
was that?"
"It was the
day we had the funeral. In
the morning. It warn't
early, because I overslept. I
was just starting down the ladder,
and I see them."
"Well, go on,
GO on! What did they do? How'd
they act?"
"They didn't
do nothing. And they didn't
act anyway much,
as fur as I see. They tiptoed
away; so I seen, easy enough,
that they'd shoved in there to
do up your majesty's room, or
something, s'posing you was up;
and found you WARN'T up, and
so they was hoping to slide out
of the way of trouble without
waking you up, if they hadn't
already waked you up."
"Great guns, THIS is a go!" says
the king; and both of them looked
pretty sick and tolerable silly.
They stood there a-thinking and
scratching their heads a minute,
and the duke he bust into a kind
of a little raspy chuckle, and
says:
"It does beat
all how neat the niggers played
their hand.
They let on to be SORRY they
was going out of this region!
And I believed they WAS sorry,
and so did you, and so did everybody.
Don't ever tell ME any more that
a nigger ain't got any histrionic
talent. Why, the way they played
that thing it would fool ANYBODY.
In my opinion, there's a fortune
in 'em. If I had capital and
a theater, I wouldn't want a
better lay-out than that -- and
here we've gone and sold 'em
for a song. Yes, and ain't privileged
to sing the song yet. Say, where
IS that song -- that draft?"
"In the bank
for to be collected. Where
WOULD it be?"
"Well, THAT'S
all right then, thank goodness."
Says I, kind of timid-like:
"Is something
gone wrong?"
The king whirls on me and rips
out:
"None o' your business! You
keep your head shet, and mind
y'r own affairs -- if you got
any. Long as you're in this town
don't you forgit THAT -- you
hear?" Then he says to the duke, "We
got to jest swaller it and say
noth'n': mum's the word for US."
As they was starting down the
ladder the duke he chuckles again,
and says:
"Quick sales
AND small profits! It's a good
business -- yes."
The king snarls around on him
and says:
"I was trying
to do for the best in sellin'
'em out so quick.
If the profits has turned out
to be none, lackin' considable,
and none to carry, is it my fault
any more'n it's yourn?"
"Well, THEY'D
be in this house yet and we
WOULDN'T if I could
a got my advice listened to."
The king sassed back as much
as was safe for him, and then
swapped around and lit into ME
again. He give me down the banks
for not coming and TELLING him
I see the niggers come out of
his room acting that way -- said
any fool would a KNOWED something
was up. And then waltzed in and
cussed HIMSELF awhile, and said
it all come of him not laying
late and taking his natural rest
that morning, and he'd be blamed
if he'd ever do it again. So
they went off a-jawing; and I
felt dreadful glad I'd worked
it all off on to the niggers,
and yet hadn't done the niggers
no harm by it.
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