THE FOOLISH WOMAN
“W’en you see dese yer niggers w’at wrop de ha’r wid a string,” said Uncle Remus to the little boy one day, apropos of nothing in particular except his own prejudices, “you des keep yo’ eye on um. You des watch um, kaze ef you don’t dey’ll take en trip you up—dey will dat, dez ez sho’ ez de worl’. En ef you don’t b’lieve me, you kin des’ ax yo’ mammy. Many’s en many’s de time is Miss Sally driv niggers out ’n de big house yard kaze dey got der ha’r wrop up wid a string. I bin lookin’ en peepin’, en lis’nin’ en eavesdrappin’ in dese low groun’s a mighty long time, en I ain’t ne’er sot eyes on no nigger w’at wrop der ha’r wid a string but w’at dey wuz de meanes’ kind er nigger. En if you ax anybody w’at know ’bout niggers dey’ll tell you de same.”
“But, Uncle Remus,” said the little boy protestingly, “doesn’t Aunt Tempy wrap her hair with a string?”
“Who? Sis Tempy? Shoo!” exclaimed theold man scornfully. “Why, whar yo’ eyes, honey? Nex’ time you see Sis Tempy, you take en look at ’er right close, en ef ’er ha’r ain’t platted den I’m a Chinee. Now, dat’s what!”
“Well, they don’t bother me,” said the little boy.
“Dat dey don’t!” exclaimed Uncle Remus enthusiastically. “Dey don’t dast ter, kaze dey know ef dey do, dey’ll have old Remus atter um, en mean ez dey is, dey know hit ain’t gwine ter do ter git de ole nigger atter um.
“Hit seem like ter me dat one time I year a mighty funny tale ’bout one er deze yer niggers w’at wrop der ha’r wid a string, but I speck it mos’ too late fer ter start in fer ter tell a tale—kaze present’y you’ll be a-settin’ up dar in dat cheer dar fas’ ’sleep, en I’m a-gittin’ too ole en stiff fer ter be totin’ you roun’ yer like you wuz a sack er bran.”
“Oh, I’m not sleepy, Uncle Remus,” the little boy exclaimed. “Please tell me the story.”
The old man stirred the embers with the end of his cane, and seemed to be in a very solemn mood. Presently he said:
“’T ain’t so mighty much of a tale, yit it ’ll do fer ter go ter bed on. One time dey wuz a nigger man w’at tuck ’n married a nigger ’oman, en dish yer nigger ’oman kep’ ’er h’ar wrop up wid a stringnight en day. Dey married, en dey went home ter housekeepin’. Dey got um some pots, en dey got um some kittles, en dey got um some pans, en dey got um some dishes, en dey start in, dey did, des like folks does w’en dey gwine ter stay at home.
“Dey rocked on, dey did,” said Uncle Remus, scratching his head with some earnestness, “en it seem like dey wuz havin’ a mighty good time; but one day w’en dish yer nigger man wuz gone ter town atter some vittles, the nigger ’oman she ’gun ter git fretted. Co’se, honey, you dunner how de wimmen folks goes on, but I boun’ you’ll know ’fo’ you gits ez ole en ez crippled up in de j’ints ez w’at I is. Well, dish yer nigger ’oman, she ’gun ter fret en ter worry, en bimeby she got right down mad.”
“But what did she get mad about, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked.
“Well, sir,” said the old man condescendingly, “I’ll up en tell you. She wuz des like yuther wimmen folks, en she got fretted kase de days wuz long en de wedder hot. She got mad en she stayed mad. Eve’y time she walked ’cross de flo’ de dishes ud rattle in de cubberd, en de mo’ she’d fix um de wuss dey’d rattle. Co’se, dis make ’er lots madder dan w’at she wuz at fust, en bimeby she tuck ’n holler out:
“‘W’at make you rattle?’
“Dishes dey keep on a-rattlin’.
“‘What make you rattle so? I ain’t gwine ter have no rattlin’ ’roun’ yer!’
“Dishes dey keep on a-rattlin’ en a-rattlin’. De ’oman she holler out:
“‘Who you rattlin’ at? I ’m de mistiss er dis house. I ain’t gwine ter have none er yo’ rattlin’ ’roun’ yer!’
“Dishes dey rattle en rattle. De ’oman, she holler out:
“‘Stop dat rattlin’. I ain’t gwine ter have you sassin’ back at me dat way. I ’m de mistiss er dis house!’
“Den she walked up en down, en eve’y time she do dat de dishes dey rattle wuss en wuss. Den she holler out:
“‘Stop dat sassin’ at me, I tell you! I’m de mistiss in dis house!’
“Yit de dishes keep on rattlin’ en shakin’, en bimeby de ’oman run ter de cubberd, she did, en grab de dishes en fling um out in de yard, en no sooner’s she do dis dan dey wuz busted all ter flinders.
“I tell you w’at, mon,” said Uncle Remus, after pausing a moment to see how this proceeding had affected the little boy. “I tell you w’at,mon, wimmen folks is mighty kuse. Dey is dat, des ez sho’ ez de worl’. Bimeby de nigger man come home, en w’en he see all de dishes broke up he wuz ’stonish’, but he ain’t say nuthin’. He des look up at de sun fer ter see w’at time it is, en feel er hisse’f fer ter see ef he well. Den he up ’n holler:
“‘Ole ’oman, yer some fish w’at I bring you. I speck you better clean um fer dinner.’ De ’oman, she ’low:
“‘Lay um down dar.’ De man, he tuck en lay um down en draw’d a bucket er water out er de well.
“Den, bimeby, de ’oman, she come out en start ter clean de fish. She pick um up, she did, en start ter scrape de scales off, but she sees der eyes wide open, en she ’low:
“‘Shet dem eyes! Don’t you be a-lookin’ at me!’
“Fish, dey keep on a-lookin’. ’Oman, she holler out:
“‘Shet up dem eyes, I tell you! I ’m de mistiss er dish yer house!’
“Fish, dey keep der eyes wide open. ’Oman, she squall out:
“‘Shet dem eyes, you impident villyuns! I’m de mistiss in dish yer house!’
“Fish, dey helt der eyes wide open, en den de ’oman tuck en flung um in de well.”
“And then what?” asked the little boy, as Uncle Remus paused.
“Ah, Lord, honey! You too hard fer me now. De ’oman tuck ’n ’stroy de dishes, en den she flung de fishes in de well, en dey des nat’ally ruint de well. I dunner w’at de man say, but ef he wuz like de balance un um, he des sot down en lit his pipe, en tuck a smoke en den lit out fer bed. Dat’s de way men folks does, en ef you don’t b’lieve me yo kin ax yo’ pa, but fer de Lord’s sake don’t ax ’im whar Miss Sally kin year you, kaze den she’ll light on me, en mo’ ’n dat, she won’t save me no mo’ col’ vittles.”