This was a trifle puzzling to Lucie but she replied that her mother’s maiden name was Randolph, which appeared entirely to corroborate the opinion of the man.
“Mah name Gus Fitchett,” he told Lucie, “and I comes ovah to fight dem Bushes fo’ dey git ready to draf me. We gwine bus’ ’em, too, yuh hyar me. We gwine chase ’em clar to Berlin, an’ den kick ’em downhill.” It was evidently not quite clear in his mind just what or where Berlin might be, but it was a word to conjure with, and he wished to impress upon Lucie his good intentions.
Presently the canteen was reached, Gus was conducted in and promptly served with a bowl of soup and a chunk of bread. While he was eating Lucie whispered her report of him to Miss Lowndes. “I never saw a black before,” she said, “but I was curious to see one, and when he began singing ‘The Old Folks at Home’ I knew he was not from any other place than my mother’s country. I can’t understand half he says, but I think he is very funny.”
Miss Lowndes laughed. “Bless you, child, I have been used to that kind of talk all my life. I wonder what we’d better do with him. With that wound on his head he shouldn’t be on the road by himself. I’ll find out where his regiment is, and Marcus can take him on; that will be best.” This was done, but it was not the last of Gus Fitchett, for in a few days he turned up again at the canteen.
“Well, Gus,” said Miss Lowndes, recognizing him, “you’re not lost again, are you?”
Gus grinned. “No, miss, I ain’t los’ dis time, I comes on a purpose. De cunnel, he say I ain’t fittin’ to be roun’ de mess, an’ he say I bettah lay by a few days, gimme leave, he say. He axes me does I wanter go to a res’ hospital, I says no, I doesn’t. He axes me whar does I wanter go, an’ I says ef hit jes de same to him I comes back whar dey talks lak I kin unnerstan’ ’em. He say whar dat. I say whar dat canteen are an’ dem nice Ferginny ladies, dat little specially one what got a muvver name o’ Randolph.”
“Well, Gus, we’ll have to fix you up,” said Miss Lowndes. “You’ll have to have a place to sleep.”
“I sleeps anywhar, on de flo’, in de barn, out o’ doors. Don’ mek no decrimination to me, no, miss, not a bit of decrimination.”
Miss Lowndes bit her lip and told him she would see that a place was found for him, for which interest he was grateful accordingly.
“Whar dat young lady live what bring me here?” he asked after partaking of the coffee Miss Lowndes offered him.