“De Lawd he’p me! w’at comin’ nex’?  Miss Lou wuz a wishin’ sump’n ud hap’n—­w’at ain’ gwinter hap’n?”

“Nothing will happen to harm you if you do as I say.  Our men may soon be marching this way, and we’ll remember our friends when we come.”

“I des hope dere’ll be sump’n lef ob me ter reckermember,” said Aun’ Jinkey, but she rose to comply with the soldier’s requirement, feeling that her only course was to fall in with the wishes of whoever happened to be uppermost in the troublous times now foreseen.  She was in a terribly divided state of mind.  The questions she had smoked and thought over so long now pressed with bewildering rapidity and urgency.  An old family slave, she had a strong feeling of loyalty to her master and mistress.  But they had been partially alienating Miss Lou, for whom she would open her veins, while her grandson was hot for freedom and looked upon Northern soldiers as his deliverers.  Aun’ Jinkey was not sure she wished to be delivered.  That was one of the points she was not through “projeckin’” about.  Alas! events would not wait for her conclusions, although more time had been given her than to many others forced to contemplate vast changes.  With a shrewd simplicity she decided that it would be wise to keep on friendly terms with all the contending powers, and do what in her judgment was best for each.

“Hit des took all de ’visions we got,” she remarked, disconsolately.

“You’ll soon have visions of more to eat and wear than ever blessed your eyes,” said Scoville, encouragingly.

“Hi! granny,” said Chunk, peeping in at the door.

“How you start me!” ejaculated the old woman, sinking into her chair.

“That you, Chunk?” asked Scoville.  “Is the coast clear?”

“I reck’n.  Keep shy yet a while, mars’r.”  A few words explained the situation, and Chunk added:  “You des feed dem Yankees big, granny.  I’se pervide mo’.  I mus’ go now sud’n.  Made Aun’ Suke b’lebe dat I knowed ob chickens w’at roos’ in trees, en dey tinks I’se lookin’ fer um.  High ole times up ter de house,” and he disappeared in the darkness.

In nervous haste Aun’ Jinkey prepared the ample supper.  Scoville hooted again, a shadowy form stole to the cabin for the food, and disappeared again toward the run.  Then Aun’ Jinkey prepared to compose her nerves by another smoke.

“Hand me up a coal for my pipe, also,” said Scoville, “and then we’ll have a sociable time.”

“I des feared onsosh’ble times dis eb’nin’,” remarked Aun’ Jinkey.

“If you knew how my bones ached, you’d help me pass the time.”

“Reck’n mine ache, too, ‘fo’ I troo wid dis bus’ness.”

“No, Aunt Jinkey, you won’t be punished for doing a good deed.  Your young mistress is on your side, anyway.  Who is she?”

“Young mistis ain’ got no po’r ef dey fin’s out.  She nuff ter do ter hol’ ’er own.”

“How comes it she’s friendly to ‘we uns,’ as you say down here?”