“What is the matter, my good woman?”
“Matter, Gin’ral! Ther’s enough the matter. I’ve allers gi’n the sogers all they wanted. I gi’n ‘em turkeys and chickens and eggs and butter and bread. And I never charged ‘em anything for it. They tuk all my corn, and I never said nuthing. I allers treated ‘em well, for I’m Union, and so wus my man, who died more nor six yeah ago.”
She again paused, evidently for no reason except to escape a stroke of apoplexy.
“But tell me what you want now. I will see to it that you have justice,” interrupted the General.
“You see, Gin’ral, last night some sogers come and tuk my ox-chains,—two on ‘em,—all I’ve got,—and I can’t buy no more in these war-times. I can’t do any work without them chains; they’d ‘a’ better uv tuk my teams with ‘em, too.”
“How much were your ox-chains worth,” said the General, laughing.
“Waal now,” answered the fat one, moderating her tone, “they’re wuth a good deal jes’ now. The war has made such things dreffle deah. The big one wus the best I ever see; bought it last yeah, up at Hinman’s store in Bolivar; that chain was wuth—waal now—Ho, Jim! ho, Dick! come y’ere! Gin’ral Freemount wants to know how much them ox-chains wus wath.”
A lazy negro and a lazier white man, the latter whittling a piece of cedar, walked slowly from the house to the road, and, leaning against the fence, began in drawling tones to discuss the value of the ox-chains, how much they cost, how much it would take to buy new ones in these times. One thought “may-be four dollars wud do,” but the other was sure they could not be bought for less than five. There was no promise of a decision, and the black pacer was floundering about in a perfect agony of fear. At last the General drew out a gold eagle and gave it to the woman, asking,—
“Is that enough?”
She took the money with a ludicrous expression of joy and astonishment at the rare sight, but exclaimed,—