“I specs so.  His wife war de nicest and sweetest lady dat eber I did see.  None ob yer airish, stuck up folks, like a tarrapin carryin’ eberything on its back.  She used ter hab meetins fer de mudders, an’ larn us how to raise our chillen, an’ talk so putty to de chillen.  I sartinly did lub dat woman.”

“Where is she now?” asked Robert.

“De Conference moved dem ’bout thirty miles from yere.  Deys gwine to hab a big meetin’ ober dere next Sunday.  Don’t you ’member dem meetins we used to hab in de woods?  We don’t hab to hide like we did den.  But it don’t seem as ef de people had de same good ’ligion we had den.  ’Pears like folks is took up wid makin’ money an’ politics.”

“Well, Aunt Linda, don’t you wish those good old days would come back?”

“No, chile; neber! neber!  Wat fer you take me?  I’d ruther lib in a corn-crib.  Freedom needn’t keep me outer heben; an’ ef I’se sich a fool as ter lose my ‘ligion cause I’se free, I oughtn’ ter git dere.”

“But, Aunt Linda, if old Miss were able to take care of you, wouldn’t you just as leave be back again?”

There was a faint quiver of indignation in Aunt Linda’s voice, as she replied:—­

“Don’t yer want yer freedom?  Well I wants ter pat my free foot.  Halleluyah!  But, Robby, I wants yer ter go ter dat big meetin’ de wuss kine.”

“How will I get there?” asked Robert.

“Oh, dat’s all right.  My ole man’s got two ob de nicest mules you eber set yer eyes on.  It’ll jis’ do yer good ter look at dem.  I ’spect you’ll see some ob yer ole frens dere.  Dere’s a nice settlemen’ of cullud folks ober dere, an’ I wants yer to come an’ bring dat young lady.  I wants dem folks to see wat nice folks I kin bring to de meetin’.  I hope’s yer didn’t lose all your ’ligion in de army.”

“Oh, I hope not,” replied Robert.

“Oh, chile, yer mus’ be shore ’bout dat.  I don’t want yer to ride hope’s hoss down to torment.  Now be shore an’ come to-morrer an’ bring dat young lady, an’ take supper wid me.  I’se all on nettles to see dat chile.”

CHAPTER XIX.

STRIKING CONTRASTS.

The next day, Robert, accompanied by Iola, went to the settlement to take supper with Aunt Linda, and a very luscious affair it was.  Her fingers had not lost their skill since she had tasted the sweets of freedom.  Her biscuits were just as light and flaky as ever.  Her jelly was as bright as amber, and her preserves were perfectly delicious.  After she had set the table she stood looking in silent admiration, chuckling to herself:  “Ole Mistus can’t set sich a table as dat.  She ought’er be yere to see it.  Specs ’twould make her mouf water.  Well, I mus’ let by-gones be by-gones.  But dis yere freedom’s mighty good.”

Aunt Linda had invited Uncle Daniel, and, wishing to give him a pleasant surprise, she had refrained from telling him that Robert Johnson was the one she wished him to meet.