An’ dey all done mahied.
Young misses whut eats heavy mos’ gener'ly doan never ketch husbands.”
“I don’t believe it.
At that barbecue when you were sick and I didn’t eat beforehand, Ashley Wilkes told me he LIKED to see a girl with a healthy appetite.”
Mammy shook her head ominously.
“Whut gempmums says an’ whut dey thinks is two diffunt things.
An’ Ah ain’ noticed Mist’ Ashley axing fer ter mahy you.”
Scarlett scowled, started to speak sharply and then caught herself.
Mammy had her there and there was no argument.
Seeing the obdurate look on Scarlett’s face, Mammy picked up the tray and, with the bland guile of her race, changed her tactics. As she started for the door, she sighed.
“Well'm, awright.
Ah wuz tellin’ Cookie w'ile she wuz a-fixin’ dis tray.
‘You kin sho tell a lady by whut she DOAN eat,’ an’ Ah say ter Cookie.
‘Ah ain’ seed no w'ite lady who et less’n Miss Melly Hamilton did las’ time she wuz visitin’ Mist’ Ashley’—Ah means, visitin’ Miss India.”
Scarlett shot a look of sharp suspicion at her, but Mammy’s broad face carried only a look of innocence and of regret that Scarlett was not the lady Melanie Hamilton was.
“Put down that tray and come lace me tighter,” said Scarlett irritably.
“And I’ll try to eat a little afterwards.
If I ate now I couldn’t lace tight enough.”
Cloaking her triumph, Mammy set down the tray.
“Whut mah lamb gwine wear?”
“That,” answered Scarlett, pointing at the fluffy mass of green flowered muslin.
Instantly Mammy was in arms.
“No, you ain’.
It ain’ fittin’ fer mawnin’.
You kain show yo’ buzzum befo’ three o’clock an’ dat dress ain’ got no neck an’ no sleeves.
An’ you’ll git freckled sho as you born, an’ Ah ain’ figgerin’ on you gittin’ freckled affer all de buttermilk Ah been puttin’ on you all dis winter, bleachin’ dem freckles you got at Savannah settin’ on de beach.
Ah sho gwine speak ter yo’ Ma ’bout you.”
“If you say one word to her before I’m dressed I won’t eat a bite,” said Scarlett coolly.
“Mother won’t have time to send me back to change once I’m dressed.”
Mammy sighed resignedly, beholding herself outguessed. Between the two evils, it was better to have Scarlett wear an afternoon dress at a morning barbecue than to have her gobble like a hog.
“Hole onter sumpin’ an’ suck in yo’ breaf,” she commanded.
Scarlett obeyed, bracing herself and catching firm hold of one of the bedposts.
Mammy pulled and jerked vigorously and, as the tiny circumference of whalebone-girdled waist grew smaller, a proud, fond look came into her eyes.
“Ain’ nobody got a wais’ lak mah lamb,” she said approvingly. “Eve'y time Ah pulls Miss Suellen littler dan twenty inches, she up an’ faint.”
“Pooh!” gasped Scarlctt, speaking with difficulty.
“I never fainted in my life.”
“Well, ‘twouldn’ do no hahm ef you wuz ter faint now an’ den,” advised Mammy.
“You is so brash sometimes, Miss Scarlett.
Ah been aimin’ ter tell you, it jes’ doan look good de way you doan faint ’bout snakes an’ mouses an’ sech.
Ah doan mean round home but w’en you is out in comp'ny. An’ Ah has tole you an’—”
“Oh, hurry!
Don’t talk so much.
I’ll catch a husband. See if I don’t, even if I don’t scream and faint.
Goodness, but my stays are tight!
Put on the dress.”
Mammy carefully dropped the twelve yards of green sprigged muslin over the mountainous petticoats and hooked up the back of the tight, low-cut basque.
“You keep yo’ shawl on yo’ shoulders w’en you is in de sun, an’ doan you go takin’ off yo’ hat w’en you is wahm,” she commanded.
“Elsewise you be comin’ home lookin’ brown lak Ole Miz Slattery.
Now, you come eat, honey, but doan eat too fas’.
No use havin’ it come right back up agin.”