"Dat des w'at she did, Marse Scoville. She say she neber 'sent, NEBER,"
Chunk interrupted.
"Then the whole Southern Confederacy could not have married her and she ought to know it."
"Well, you mus' be 'siderate, Marse Scoville. Miss Lou know a heap 'bout some tings en she des a chile 'bout oder tings. Ole mars'r en misus al'ays try ter mek her tink dat only w'at dey say is right en nuthin' else, en dey al'ays 'low ter her dat she gwine ter mar'y her cousin some day, en she al'ays 'low ter me she doan wanter."
"Poor child! she does need a friend in very truth. What kind of a man is this Mad Whately anyway, that he could think of taking part in such a wrong?"
"He de same kin' ob man dat he wuz a boy," Chunk answered. "Den he kick en howl till he git w'at he want. 'Scuse me, Marse Scoville, but I kyant hep tinkin' you mek big 'stake dat you didn't jab 'im w'en you hab de chance."
"Chunk," was the grave answer, "if you are going to wait on me you must learn my ways. I'd no more kill a man when it was not essential than I would kill you this minute. Soldiers are not butchers."
"Granny sez how you wuz feared on his spook"—
"Bah! you expect to be free, yet remain slaves to such fears? My horse knows better. Come, Aunt Jinkey, I'd rather you would give me some supper than your views on spooks."
"Leftenant," said Perkins, the overseer, from the door, "Mr. Baron pr'sents his compliments en gives you a invite to supper."
Scoville thought a moment, then answered, "Present mine in return, and say it will give me pleasure to accept."