A little later in the day Mrs. Force had an explanation with her guest, and put the alternative before her.
“You will understand, dear Mrs. Anglesea, the cruel necessity that obliges us to leave our home at this juncture; and now I wish you to be guided by your own impulses whether to go with us to Washington or to remain here as long as it may suit you to do so,” said the lady, in conclusion.
“You say you’re all a-gwine to a hotel?” inquired the visitor.
“Yes.”
“Well, then, you don’t catch me leavin’ of a comfortable home like this, where there’s plenty of turkeys, and canvas-back ducks, and game of all sorts, as the niggers shoot and sell for a song, and feather beds, and good roaring fires, and cupboards full of preserves and sweetmeats, to go to any of your hotels to get pizened by their messes, or catch my death in damp sheets. No, ma’am, no hotels for me, if you please. I got enough of ’em at the Hidalgo. I know beans, I do; and I stays here.”
“Very well. I shall be glad to think of you here; and I shall leave Lucy and Jacob in the house to take care of it, and they will wait on you,” said the well-pleased lady of the manor.
“I’ll make myself comfortable, you bet, ole ’oman! and I’ll take good care of the house while you’re gone—you may stake your pile on that!”
And so this matter was satisfactorily settled.
Preparations for departure immediately began, and soon the news got abroad in the neighborhood that the Forces were going to leave Mondreer and live in Washington.