Nelly greatly enjoyed the strong coffee (which she never before had been allowed to drink). It made her feel very wide awake. Presently she strolled off toward the adjoining cabins. These were quite empty, the men-servants having disappeared with the Federal soldiers the night before, the women had followed to their camp not far distant. Not a living thing was to be seen; even the chickens had disappeared. The whole scene was very desolate,—the smoking ruins, the deserted cabin, a cloudy sky. Soon the child remembered her playfellow, Ponto, and began to call him. A doleful whine answered her, seeming to proceed from under one of the negro cabins. Nelly stooped to look, but could only see two glowing eyes, and hear the knocking of the dog's tail upon the ground. Ponto had been so badly frightened that no coaxing or ordering would induce him to come out. So his little mistress walked angrily away, and, passing through the broken gate, stood looking up and down the road. Presently there came riding along a Federal officer on horseback, who, discovering the forlorn child, stopped to speak to her.
Nelly's first impulse was to run away, but, instead, she stood clinging to the gate-post, kicking the ground with one foot and flashing angry glances at the "Yankee." The officer sighed deeply as his glance fell upon the ruined home, and then upon the little, tear-stained face before him. Dismounting, he approached more closely, and strove to take the unwilling hand. But the child now broke into a storm of sobs, crying out, "Go away! you're a naughty Yankee, and I hate you. 'You alls' have burnt up my mamma's pretty house, and all our things, and my mamma just cries and cries; but my papa is gone to fight the 'Yankees,' and I hope he will shoot them all!"
The soldier slowly paced back and forth. "Ah," said he, softly, "if this were my little Ida: God bless her! Little girl, where is your mamma? Perhaps I can help her. Will you lead me to her?"
The child had hidden her face upon her arm, but now looked up in affright. "You won't hurt my mamma? You ar'n't going to burn up Maum Winnie's house?" said she.
Gradually his kind face and gentle manner reassured her, and she was, at last, persuaded to convey to her mother a few lines which he pencilled on a card. To Nelly's surprise, Mrs. Grey consented to receive the "Yankee." The little girl was sent to conduct him to the cabin. The lady was standing at the door as the officer and his little escort drew near. Nelly thought she had never seen her mamma look so pretty. Her eyes were shining, a lovely red spot glowed upon each cheek, but she did not smile as she used to do when receiving a guest, and, while offering the stranger a seat, she remained standing, looking very tall and grand.
During the conversation which followed, Mrs. Grey learned that as a battle was imminent at the front it was impossible to pass her through the lines (which had been her hope when she consented to see the officer). It was equally impossible to remain where she was. Her only place of refuge was her mother's home in Maryland, where she had been raised, and had lived previous to her marriage.
Promising to arrange for her transportation to the nearest railroad station, the kind-hearted officer took his leave.
When Maum Winnie was told of the proposed journey, she was greatly troubled. But when Mrs. Grey further informed her that she was free and not expected to make one of the party, her distress knew no bounds. Rushing out of the cabin, she seated herself on a log at some distance, and, throwing her apron over her head, rocked her body to and fro, wailing out, "Oh, my hebbenly Marster, 'pears like I aint fitten to bar all dis trouble. An' how dem dar gwine to do 'out ole Winnie?"
After a while, drawing her pipe and tobacco from her pocket, she sought the comfort of a smoke. Just then, Ruthy, the cook, made her appearance with a large bucket on her head. Flaunting past the old woman, she entered the kitchen without a word, and set about preparing a supper for the hungry inmates of the cabin. Where the material came from she declared was "her bizness," and her saucy manner and independent talk so confounded Maum Winnie that she asked no more questions, concluding that "Mars Yankee sont 'em an' made dat gal fotch 'em."
Mrs. Grey and Nelly had few preparations to make for the morrow. The child, soon after sunset, threw herself across the foot of the high feather-bed which stood in a corner of the cabin, and slept soundly. Maum Winnie, taking off her shoes, bustled about in her stocking-feet, apparently very busy. Her movements were for some time unobserved by her mistress, who was lost in thought. At last, kneeling before the fireplace, she reached up the chimney and brought out from its hiding-place an old, black tea-pot, with a broken spout. From this she took several papers of dried "yarbs," some watermelon-seed, an old thimble, a broken tea-spoon, a lock of "de ole man's ha'r," and lastly, the foot of an old stocking, firmly tied up.