"Come in my house an' I'll pour bilin' hot water in yer face, and scald yer eyes out!"
"Don't talk so, mother," urged the pretty daughter.
At this moment the kitchen door opened, and a negro girl peeped out.
"Say, kinky head, stir up the kitchen fire and get us some breakfast right soon," said Corporal Grimm. The black face withdrew, and the two non-commissioned officers entered the house to see that their bidding was performed.
While the latter were discussing the possibility of bushwhackers being in the neighborhood, they were suddenly startled by a loud cackling of hens and screaming of chickens; at the same instant a flock came rushing around the house with half a dozen soldiers in close pursuit.
"Good idea, boys! We will have chickens for breakfast," said Corporal Grimm.
A dozen or more chickens were caught and killed and carried to the cook. The soldiers politely inquired of the lady of the house if they could be of any further assistance, and then most of them returned to the front yard, where their arms were stacked or strewn promiscuously about. Three of them, with Corporal Grimm, remained to pick the chickens and prepare them for the cook, while their very amiable hostess was sullenly grinding away at a large coffee mill. The negro girl and the rosy-cheeked daughter of the house were both very busy hurrying up the fire, putting on the kettles of water, making biscuits, and attending to the various culinary duties.
"Where is your husband?" asked Corporal Grimm.
"None of your business," was the quick reply.