"Oh, Aunt Linda," said Robert, "don't call them niggers. They are our own people."
"Dey ain't my kine ob people. I jis' calls em niggers, an' niggers I means; an' de bigges' kine ob niggers. An' if my John war sich a nigger I'd whip him an' leave him."
"An' what would I be a doin'," queried John, suddenly rousing up at the mention of his name.
"Standing still and taking it, I suppose," said Iola, who had been quietly listening to and enjoying the conversation.
"Yes, an' I'd ketch myself stan'in' still an' takin' it," was John's plucky response.
"Well, you oughter, ef you's mean enough to wote dat ticket ter put me back inter slavery," was Aunt Linda's parting shot. "Robby," she continued, "you 'member Miss Nancy's Jinnie?"
"Of course I do," said Robert.
"She married Mr. Gundover's Dick. Well, dere warn't much git up an' go 'bout him. So, wen 'lection time com'd, de man he war workin' fer tole him ef he woted de radical ticket he'd turn him off. Well, Jinnie war so 'fraid he'd do it, dat she jis' follered him fer days."
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Robert. "How did he come out?"
"He certainly was between two fires," interposed Iola.