A murmur of approval from the others followed these words, and so it was arranged.  Uncle Lusthah was soon found, and he followed the girl to the shadow of a great pine by the run and adjacent to the grassy plot with which the girl would ever associate Allan Scoville.  It was there that she had looked into his eyes and discovered what her own heart was now teaching her to understand.

Aun’ Jinkey followed them from her cabin and asked, “Wat you gwine ter do yere, honey?”

“Bury here a Northern soldier who has done me a very great honor.”

“Oh, Miss Lou, I des feared ter hab ’im so neah de cabin.”

“Hush!” said the girl, almost sternly.  “Uncle Lusthah, you ought to teach mammy better than that.”

“Ah, youn’ mistis, hit’s bred in de bone.  I des mourns ober my people, ‘fusin’ ter be comf’ted.  Yere Aun’ Jinkey, gittin’ gray lak me.  She a ’fessor ob religion, ye de word ‘spook’ set her all a tremble.  Ef dey is spooks, Aun’ Jinkey, w’at dat ter you?  Dere’s tunder en lightnin’ en yearthquakes en wurin’ iliments en all kin’ ob miseries ob de body.  Who gwine ter keep all dem fum yo’ cabin?  Reck’n you betteah trus’ de Lawd ’bout spooks too.”

“You don’t believe in any such foolishness, Uncle Lusthah?”

“Well, young mistis, I gettin ’po’ful ole en I al’ays yeared on spooks sence I kin reckermember.  I neber seed one fer sho, but I’se had strange ‘sper’ences o’ nights, en dar’s dem w’at sez dey has seen de sperets ob de ’parted.  I dunno.  Dere’s sump’n in folk’s buzzums dat takes on quar sometimes, ez ef we libin’ mighty close onter a worl’ we kyant mos’ al’ays see.  Dat ar doan trouble me nohow, en Aun’ Jinkey orter know bettah.  Ef de Lawd ’mits spooks, dat He business.  He ’mits lots ob tings we kyant see troo.  Look at dese yere old han’s, young mistis.  Dey’s wuked nigh on eighty yeah, yit dey neber wuked fer mysef, dey neber wuked fer wife en chil’n.  Dat mo’ quar dan spooks.”

“I don’t know but you are right,” said the girl thoughtfully.  “I didn’t know you felt so about being free.  Aun’ Jinkey never seemed to trouble much about it.”

“I’se ‘feared Aun’ Jinkey tink a heap on de leeks en inions ob Egypt.”

“Dar now, Uncle Lusthah, you po’ful good man, but you owns up you doan know nufin’ ‘bout spooks, en I knows you doan know nufin’ ’bout freedom.”

“Yes I does,” replied Uncle Lusthah.  “Ef de day come w’en I kin stan’ up en say fer sho, ‘I own mysef, en God ony my Mars’r,’ I kin starbe ef dat He will.  En dat’ minds me, young mistis.  Is we free?  Perkins growlin’ roun’ agin dis mawnin’, en say we he’p ’bout de horspital ter-day, but we all go ter wuk ter-morrer.  I ’lowed he orter talk ter us ’bout wages en he des larf en cuss me.  Wat’s gwine ter be de end?  Marse Scoville en de big Linkum gin’ral say we free, en Perkins larf ‘temptuous like.  We des all a-lookin’ ter you, young mistis.”

“Oh, uncle! what can I do?”