“Who brought that here?” she asked quickly.

“Ole miss, honey.  She said you cud war dis or de one you hab on, des ez you pleases.”

“Aun’ Jinkey,” said the girl in an awed whisper, “do you think they can marry me against my will?”

“Miss Lou, I declar ter you I’se been smokin’ en projeckin’ ober dat mos’ all night.”

“Well?”

“Hit ‘pears ter me a orfully mux-up question.  Yere yo’ gyardins, ole mars’r en ole miss.  Dey’s des had dere gay on dis plantashon sence I wuz a gyurl.  You wuz trus’ ter dem ter be took keer on en you tole me how he manage yo’ prop’ty.  He call you he ward.  I des dunno w’at po’r dat ward business gib ’im.  I’se yeared en my day ob young gyurls mar’ed yere en mar’ed dar en dey aim’ sayin’ much ’bout who dey mar’y.  Folks say dat wuz de way wid ole miss.  I reckermember dem days en I year ole mars’r’s fader talk’n wid her fader ’bout w’at dey call set’l’ments en po’tions.  Den ole miss’s mammy tole me how her young miss wuz cool ez a cowcumber, en how she say her folks know bes’ en she sat’sfied; en den how she gib her min’ ter w’at she call her trosso.  Why honey, I des doin’ up tings ob dat ar trosso yit.”

“That’s just the trouble with aunt,” said Miss Lou scornfully.  “I don’t believe she ever had heart enough to love with.”

“Well, I reck’n ole mars’r is projeckin’ dis away.  Ole miss, she settle down en tuck hole strong.  She des kin’er fall inter he ways en mek tings hum wid de yard en house folks.  She des a nachel-bawn housekeeper, en we uns all had ter stan ‘roun’ en do ez she sed sud’n, we sutn’y did; en ole mars’r, he tink hit be des de same wid you.”

“But it won’t, mammy.  I’m not like my aunt.”

“Dat you ain’, honey, bless de Lawd!  Ole miss neber stan’ ’twix me en a whip, en she neber run fer my pipe en let her shol’er ache whiles I smokes like a ole himage.  I’se only des a s’plainin’ how dey feels ‘bout yo’ mar’age.”

“Ah, but mammy, you know how I feel about it.  I won’t marry my cousin if I can help it.”

“Hit’s yo’ feelin’s, honey, w’at des riles up my in’erds so I kyant hardly wuk.  Dat’s whar my projeckin’ gins out, en I’se kin’er stump’d ’bout hit.  Dey’s gwine right ’long wid dere prep’rations des ez ef dey cud do ez dey pleased.  Dunno w’at de law is ’bout hit ef dere is any law in dese mux-up times.  I’se des took clar off my foots wid all de goin’s on.  De fiel’-han’s at de quarters is bilin’ ober wid ‘citement, en dey’s sayin’ de Linkum men’s comin’ ter upset ebryting.  Whar dey get de news fum I dunno.  Dey sez ole mars’r is ’stracted en ole miss des put her thin lips tergedder ez ef she gwine ter hab her way ter de las’ minit.  Ez fer Marse Whately, you knows he al’ays hab his way, en ef dere isn’t eny way he mek it.  You sez de min’ster en folks is comin’?  Hit des stumps me fer dem ter go on so ef dey hasn’t de po’r.”

“Well, then,” said the girl desperately, “they will have to use force all the way through.  I’ll never give my consent.”