Mother Bunker said that Mammy held "quite a levee" at the
quarters, sitting in state in her phaeton where she could see all that
went on.
The dinner was what the negroes called a barbecue. The six little
Bunkers had never seen such a feast before, for this that their father
gave them was even more elaborate than the dinner the planter had given
his hands at Christmas.
There was a great fire in a pit, and over this fire a whole pig was
roasted on a spit, and poultry, and 'possums that the boys had killed,
and rabbits. There were sweet potatoes, of course. How the little
Northerners liked them! The white children had a table to themselves and
ate as heartily as their colored friends.
Then a place was cleared for the dancing. Mammy June's phaeton was drawn
to the edge of this dance floor. The music struck up, and there was a
general rush for partners.
After a while the dancers got more excited, and many of them danced
alone, "showing off," Frane, Junior, said. They did have the funniest
steps! Russ Bunker was highly delighted with this kind of dancing.
"Now let me! Let me dance!" he cried, starting out from his seat near
Mammy June. "A boy showed me in Boston how to cut a pigeon wing. I guess
I can do it now."
"You can't cut no pigeon wing, w'ite boy," said 'Lias, Mammy's grandson.
"I can try," said Russ bravely, and he danced with much vigor for
several minutes.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173