“Well, suh, I ’lowed she wouldn’t find ’er tongue, she was so bad put out, but she up an’ say: ‘No, suh, not sence I been standin’ here,’ an’ she say it as cool as ef she was des givin’ ’im a passin’ s’lute. But I reckon dat officer seed thoo ’er kase he said: ‘Some o’ you fellers run down dat way an’ fo’ of us will s’arch de house. Miss,’ he say to Miss Grace, ‘we all know you is fur de downfall o’ de republic, an’ you mus’ ’scuse me fur not takin’ yo’ word, but we is been fooled so many times by you women in de Souf dat we got to be partic’lar.’
“Wid dat, fo’ of um go thoo we-all’s house fum bottom to top an’ ol’ Miss was mighty nigh ’stracted. She riz bodily fum ’er bed an’ fronted um. It was a big wonder to me dat dem Yankees ain’t shot ’er daid in ’er tracks fur de way she belittled um.
“‘You dirty gang o’ raid-hand murderers an’ cut-th’oats,’ she say, ‘I hope an’ pray high heaven will fall down on you an’ crush you in everlastin’ punishment. You ain’t satisfied wid takin’ our sons an’ husbands fum us, but you must go an’ tromple our houses wid yo’ muddy feet an’ fo’ce yo’ ugly se’ves into de sick rooms o’ yo’ betters. Dat shows yo’ raisin’; no Southern gen’man ain’t gwine be so brutish.’
“‘Now, madam,’ de leader say as cool as a watermelon in a deep spring, ‘des keep on yo’ jacket. You ketch yo’ death wid cold, A sudden change fum a warm bed is a bad thing whar doctors is so scarce, anyhow. You better not ’cite yo’se’f—’twon’t do a speck o’ good, an’ in fact you ain’t lookin’ well. You act sorter s’picious. Ef dar is a spy in yo’ house we gwine have ’im fur our meat, an’ all yo’ rampageousness won’t stop us. Dough, I make bold to say, madam, dat we-all ud like to have you on we-all’s side. At close range dat tongue o’ yo’n ud beat a grape-gun all holler.’
“Ol’ Miss didn’t say anything back. She looked out’n ’er eyes, dough, like you seed a balkin’ mule ’fo’ now, mebby, when his laigs is been tied together to break ’im fum kickin’ an’ you stan’ hind ’im wid a whip an’ sorer tap ’im in de flank atter he found out he earn’t kick ’nough to skeer a hoss-fly off’n his back.
“Well, dey all go plumb thoo de house widout a speck ur luck, ’cep’ what dey come acrost in de cupboard. When dey et all dey want an’ is raidy to go, de head man say to ol’ Miss: ‘Madam,’ he say, lookin’ at me kinder ’chievous, ‘we got some work in de camp to be done an’ dis ol’ nigger mus’ go an’ tend to it. We’ll sen’ ’im back in de mawnin’ sho ef he gits thoo.’
“Dat ain’t de fust time I had to do odd jobs fur um, an’ I ain’t s’prised. I had to march back wid one lill swivelly white man dat I could a-mashed twixt my fingers like a skeeter, an’ I would a-tried it, too, ef he hadn’t kep’ a musket level’ on me de whole time. De other soldiers went on after Marse Eddie.
“He’s a spy,’ I heer um say, as dey went off, ’an’ he carn’t git away, nuther, kase he is s’rounded on all sides an’ day is breakin’.’
“By de time we got to de camp de sun was ’ginnin’ to rise an’ a kettle drummer was out wakin’ um all up wid his clatter. I had to he’p wash dishes at de officer’s tent, an’ all dat mawnin’ I heerd um axin’ one another is de spy done kotch. To’ds dinner de men all come back an’ wid um was po’ Marse Eddie. He was so weakly dey had to mos’ drap ’im along. Pon my word, I don’t b’lieve de boy know who had ’im; he looked so wild out o’ his raid eyes.
“Dey tuck ’im to a big tent an’ all de officers got in it and held a court martial—dat’s what dey called it. I couldn’t heer a word dat passed, but de Lawd know I seed Marse Eddie was in a bad fix, kase dey was makin’ sech a big to-do.