"Mas'r Henry, I's been havin' my own t'oughts. Mas'r knows I could n' lebe Miss Emma nowes. Could n' tief her property nowes. But ef Mas'r Henry 'd on'y jus' 'sider an' ask li'l' Missy for to make dis chil' a presen' ob myse'f"——
"So that's what it means!" And Mas'r Henry smiled a moment at the ludicrous idea presented to him.
"Flor," said he then, abruptly, "I have never heard the whole of that night in the swamp. It must be told."
"Lors, Sah! So long ago, I's done forgot it!"
"You may have till to-morrow morning to quicken your memory."
"Haan' nof'n' more to 'member, Mas'r."
"You heard me. You have your choice to repeat it either now or to-morrow morning."
"Could n' make suf'n', whar nof'n' was. Could n' tink o' nof'n' all ter once. Could n' tell nof'n' at all in a hurry," said Flor, with a twinkle. "Guess I'll take tell de mornin', any-wes, Mas'r." And she was off.
And Mas'r Henry went, back to his book,—the watcher nodding on his spear,—and all the stormy scenes he expected soon to realize in his own life, when the sword of conscription had numbered his old head with the others.
Flor went out from the presence defiant, as became a rebel.