"Who said anything about yo' robbin' me? I reckon I haven't got much that would pay any robber toe take. If yo' all don't like that molasses, why, jest say so."
"I do like it," said Noel, "and I am grateful to you for giving it to me."
Without further delay the young soldier at once began his breakfast, all the time aware that the woman was watching him with an expression which gave evidence that her feeling was more than mere hospitality.
Finally, unable to resist her curiosity longer, she broke in: "What pa't of the No'th do yo' all come from?"
"How do you know I am from the North? What makes you think that?"
"Jest as soon as I heard yo' all talk," said the woman, "I knew yo' was a Yank. Strange how queer th' Yanks talk."
Noel laughed and did not give expression to his own feeling that the dialect that he had heard in the South had impressed him much the same way as his hostess had been impressed by the voices and words of the Northern soldiers.
"I reckon," she continued, "that yo' all are one of McClellan's men, though what yo' all are doin' over yere is more than I can understand. Yo' all are not looking fo' my man, Sam, are yo'?"
"I assure you that I am not," said Noel promptly. And the young soldier spoke honestly, for of all men Sam Tolliver was the one he least desired to see at the time.
"Run away from the army?" inquired the woman.