Then the Colonel in more moderate language described the scene between himself and Sam. The good wife listened to the Colonel until he concluded. Then in a conciliatory tone, she said: "Well, Colonel, it does seem as though fate is cruel to you. I do hope you will bear up bravely. I think it just awful that the first customer should have been a nigger. I do hope we will have others soon."
Then after a pause, she resumed, "Insofar as I am concerned I would willingly die before I'd ask you, a Charlotte, to sacrifice your pride further. But when I think of our children I don't know what to say. Colonel," and she trembled as she spoke, "do you—do—you think—Sam had money to pay for the hire of the carriage?"
"I done heard the money jingle in his pocket when he run."
"Well, Colonel, I wouldn't even suggest that—that—you carry those niggers to the ball, but if—if we only had the money—it would do us so much good. Those children—."
The Colonel waited to hear no more. Out into the chilly autumn evening, more briskly than he had moved in weeks, stalked the Colonel. Reaching the Liberty Stable, he ordered one of the boys to locate Sam. "Make haste," was his parting order.
The boy soon returned escorting Sam who seemed somewhat afraid to get too near the livery stable proprietor. The Colonel assured Sam that he desired to talk with him. Leading the way he walked until well out of hearing of his stable boy.
He began inquiringly, "So there's a big ball at Townsley's tonight. It's the fust I've heard of it, an' you an' your company wants to go. Well Sam, you work hard fur your money an' you ought not to spend it too freely because winter's coming on and these reconstruction laws the Yankees have put on us will make it hard on all of us."
"About how much do you reckon it will cost you all to go to the ball in a first class livery turn out?"
"I dunno sah," meekly answered Sam.
"How much you got?" was the Colonel's next question.