“Oh dear, oh dear, how can I give it all up! I’ve fed that bird and his mate for years. He knows my voice. I can call him down out of that tree. Many a night when you were away in the war he sat close to my window and sang softly to me all night. When I’d wake, I’d hear him singin’ low like he was afraid he’d wake somebody. I’d sit down there by the window and cry for you and dream of your comin’ home till he’d sing me to sleep in the chair. And now we’ve got to leave him. Oh Lord, my heart is broken! I can’t see the way!”
She buried her face on Tom’s shoulder and shook with sobs.
“Hush, hush, honey, we must face trouble. We are used to it.”
“But not this, Tom. It’ll tear my heart out when I have to leave.”
“It can’t be helped, Annie. We’ve got to pay for this nigger government.”
Eleven o’clock was the hour fixed for the sale. At half past ten a crowd of negroes had gathered. There were only two or three white men present, the Agent of the Freedman’s Bureau and some of his henchmen.
They began to inspect the place. Tim Shelby was present, dressed in a suit of broadcloth and a silk hat placed jauntily on his close-cropped scalp.
“That’s a fine orchard, gentlemen,” Tim exclaimed.
“Yes, en dats er fine gyarden,” said a negro standing near.
“Let’s look at the house,” said Tim starting to the door.