Marthy.  It’s de Lord’s will, ’nd hits rite, but hit pears like we don had little mo den our share ob de trouble.  Dar de silber, hits ready.  You pack it up to Mistus, and ax her can’t I fix her little somethin’ ter eat.  I don’t know what hits gwine ter be.

Cupid (brightening).  Would she eat a piece ob nice young chicken?

Marthy.  Go way, nigger, don’t I know dar ant bin no chicken nor nothin’ else fer Old Mistus ter eat on this place fer more dan a month; what you come round here talking bout chicken fer?

Cupid.  Kin you keep you mouth shet bout somethin if I tells you?

Marthy (on her guard).  Dat pens on what hits bout.

Cupid.  I got a chicken, three fo on um, and some flour and some butter, too.  I tell you mistus gwine get chicken ef dars chicken lef in dis world.

Marthy (suspicious).  Whar did you get hit?

Cupid.  I went down dar long twods whar de Yankees campin yestiddy.  I powerful skerd, yet I bleged to go, cause I got ter git somethin for mistus ter eat, and de very fust person I meet war Mars Winthrop.  Pears like he don come down de lane by hisself, and he standin down dar at de bars at de end ob de lane, lookin way off twords de house.  Pears like he studyin bout somethin.  He mighty sorrowful and lonesom lookin.  He suprised ter see me, but he ax me rite off how de people was and most pintedly bout ole mistus and Miss Fair.  Den he ax me how dey stand de trouble dat come to um, and ax me ant dar nothin on de earth he can do.  Cos I tell we all well and dat we din’t need nothin, cause I ant gwine ter tell him dar ant nothin lef sep hog meat and corn meal.  Well, sir, dat white man he tek me rite in de tent and gib me a gret basket full ub de bes dey had and say hit fer me ter tek home ter you, but hit pears like he onderstand mighty well, and he gib me a dollar and mek me promise not ter say nothin bout see him.  Dat how I come ter had de chicken fer mistus.  He powerful good white man if he is er Yankeey.

Marthy.  Whar dat basket?  Git hit.  Mistus ant touch nothin cep a little tea fer days, and Miss Charlotte she jest set dar at de winder lookin so white and still.  She ant war no dress cep dat white one jes like she gwine get married.  She ant realise hit somehow.  Soon as de flowers wilt she put fresh ones in de place (she turns to Cupid).  Get me de basket and tek hit to de kitchen.  Dem chillun shan’t go hungry (she looks about the room).  I got ter fix dis some way (she begins to straighten room).  I’s glad dem Yankees ant get ter mistus room.  I bleeged ter get dis lookin better fo mistus see it.  She ant bin in here since she come home.

Cupid.  Mars Winthrop sure anxious ter do somethin fer we all.  Pears like he most es griev as we is bout Mars George.  I don fix up little sprise fo um.

Marthy.  What you know ‘bout sprisin’?  Why don you git de basket?

Cupid.  I don hear Mistus say she anxious ter see Mars Winthrop and Mars Hopkins, so she kin thank um ter all dey don—­gitten de ambulance wagen and sendin’ de soldiers ter tek ker ob de place.  And when I seed um, I tole him Mistus want see him.  He brighten up mighty, and say dey come over har ter night.  Now, don’t you let on.