“Won’t you accept the money as a gift from me?” he said at last, desperately.
“Nor—I ain’ gwine tetch it!” The gesture was even more final than the tone. With a sniff, she turned and walked out, leaving the Doctor feeling like a school-boy.
He rose after a few minutes and went to his wife’s room to get her to make his peace. The door was shut, but he opened it. The scene within was one that remained with him through life. His wife was weeping, and the mammy and Blair were in each other’s arms. The only words he heard were from the mammy.
“Ef jest my ole marster could come back. He’d know I didn’ do it for no wages.”
“Oh! mammy, he knows it too!”
The Doctor was never conscious of being so much alone in his life, and it took some time to make his peace.
In the same way that the old planters and landowners set in to restore the old places, the younger men also went to work. Necessity is a good spur and pride is another.
Stamper, with Delia Dove “for overseer,” as he said, was already beginning to make an impression on his little place. As he had “kept her from having an overseer,” he said, the best thing he could do was to “let her be one.”
“Talk about th’ slaves bein’ free, Mr. Jack! they won’t all be free long’s Delia Dove’s got me on her place.” The little Sergeant’s chuckle showed how truly he enjoyed that servitude. “She owns me, but she treats me well,” he laughed.