Dinner was now announced by Aunt Chloe, and it did her honest old heart good to see the way that Calhoun ate.
“I jes’ believe dat air chile hab had nuthin’ to eat fo’ a week,” she declared.
“I reckon I shall have to go now,” said Calhoun, rising reluctantly from the table. “I have already made too long a visit for a country boy with eggs to sell. I declare, Aunt Chloe, I do believe I should kill myself eating if I stayed any longer.”
“No danger of dat, chile,” replied Aunt Chloe, grinning.
The words of parting were few. “Do be careful, my son,” said Judge Pennington, his voice [pg 62]trembling with emotion. “God only knows whether I shall ever see you again or not.”
As Calhoun started to leave, a pair of sharp eyes was watching him. Those eyes belonged to a pretty girl named Jennie Freeman. The Freemans were Judge Pennington’s nearest neighbors, but Mr. Freeman was as strong a Union man as the Judge was a Secessionist. Once the best of friends, a coldness had sprung up between them since the opening of the war.
Jennie was two years older than Calhoun, but they had been playmates from babyhood, and were great friends. Jennie called him her knight-errant. More than once he had carried a pair of black eyes in fighting her battles when some of the larger boys had teased her.
Jennie had seen the supposed country boy enter the kitchen of Judge Pennington, and there was something in his walk and manner which attracted her attention. “If that isn’t Cal Pennington I am a sinner!” she exclaimed to herself.
She was on the watch for him, and when he remained so long she became more than ever convinced that her suspicions were correct. At length the boy came out with his basket on his arm.
“Hi, there, boy! come here,” she called. “What have you to sell?”