But I was summoned to the presence of the great man. As I entered, he continued writing at a table, without greeting me or looking up from his paper.
"General," I commenced, "I have come to ask if I may have a guard. I am about to return to my home—Cottage Farm."
No answer, except the rapid scratching of his pen as it travelled over his sheet.
"General Hartsuff, are you still angry with me because I did not feel I could accept your kind offer? I couldn't take it! I couldn't trust myself with it! I should have given a ball and ruined you."
He laughed outright at this and threw down his pen.
"It is impossible for you to go to Cottage Farm," he said; "there are fifty or more negroes on the place. You cannot live there."
"I must! it is my only shelter."
"Well, then, I'll allow you a guard, and Mrs. Hartsuff had better take you out herself, that is, if you can condescend to accept as much."
I was not aware that Mrs. Hartsuff had entered and stood behind me.
"And I think, George," she said, "you ought to give Mrs. Pryor a horse and cart in place of her own that were stolen."