At the sound of a strange voice. Mammy, peeping in at the open door, had fallen prostrate with joy, and, while hugging her boy to her faithful bosom, had called upon her Maker to testify that upon this very morning the scissors had stuck up twice.
“An’ I knowed when dey done dat, dat somebody was a-comin’.”
Then Dinah, the cook, came in, courtesying and laughing and loyal as though no emancipating army had set foot in Dixie.
When the joyful tidings had reached the children, Rita’s thin legs might have been seen flying through the high grass. The more practical Joe toiled behind, bending under the burden of (their treasure trove) a big pumpkin, a basket of persimmons, and a few stalks of sorghum, for, like the Scriptural colts of the wild ass, they passed their time in searching after every green thing.
In the magnetism of the bright presence of the young soldier, all the sad forebodings seemed to vanish into thin air. While listening to his brave words of hope, they forgot that the sunny hours of this most happy day were hastening by. Already the shadows lay long upon the grass, and there remained yet so much to be said and so little time wherein to say it! By set of sun Sedley must be on his way to rejoin his command. His brief and daring visit had been achieved by his assuming a disguise before venturing inside the enemy’s lines.
“How did you ever manage it?” asked the mother. “I tremble when I think of it.”
“Oh,” he answered, “it was easy enough. I came in with a fellow who was driving cattle into town.”
“Oh, Sed!” his sister whispered; “you ran an awful risk; how will you manage to get back without being discovered?”
“There’ll be no trouble about that,” he answered. “Don’t you and mother go and worry yourselves about me. I’ll be all right, so cheer up and don’t look so doleful.”
Urged on by fear, they now almost hurried him away, and Mammy, while filling his haversack with provisions, entreated him to be careful.