“Yes, brother,” added Mrs. Whately, “as far as this man is concerned, you must revise your opinions.  There is no deep-laid plot—­nothing but what is apparent.  I must also urge upon you and sister a change in your treatment of Louise.  She will be far more ready to fulfil our hopes when led by affection.”

“Well, well, that I should live to see this day!” groaned Mr. Baron.  “My ward virtually says that she will do as she pleases.  The slaves have been told that they are free and so can do as they please.  Henceforth I suppose I am to speak to my niece with bated breath, and be at the beck and call of every Sambo on the place.”

“You are not ‘weltering in your own blood,’ uncle, and the ’roof is not blazing over our heads,’” replied Miss Lou quietly.  “You have merely been told that you could have supper when it pleased you and then sleep in peace and safety.  Aunt, I will thank you for the key of my trunk.  I wish to put my things back in their places.”

Mrs. Baron took it from her pocket without a word, and Miss Lou went to her room.

True to her nature, Mrs. Whately began to pour oil on the lacerated feelings of her brother and sister-in-law.  “Louise is right,” she said.  “Things are so much better than we expected—­than they might have been—­that we should raise our hearts in thankfulness.  Just think!  If this Northern officer is what you fear, why would he have spared my son, whom he might have killed in fair battle?  In his conduct toward the wounded he showed a good, kindly spirit.  I can’t deny it; and he has been as polite to us as one of our own officers could have been.  Think how different it all might have been—­my brave son desperately wounded or dead, and unscrupulous men sacking the house!  I need not refer to darker fears.  I must say that I feel like meeting courtesy with courtesy.  Since this Yankee behaves like a generous foe I would like to prove that Southern rebels and slave-drivers, as we are called, can equal him in all the amenities of life which the situation permits.”

“Oh, sister!” cried Mrs. Baron, “even a cup of tea would choke me if I drank it in his presence.”

But Mr. Baron had lighted his pipe, and reason and Southern pride were asserting themselves under its soothing influence.  At last he said, “Well, let us have supper anyway.  It is already after the hour.”

“Supper has been ready this long time, as you know,” replied his wife, “only I never dreamed of such a guest as has been suggested.”

“Of course, sister, I only said what I did as a suggestion,” Mrs. Whately answered with dignity.  “You are in your own home.  I merely felt reluctant that this Yankee should have a chance to say that we were so rude and uncivilized that we couldn’t appreciate good treatment when we received it.  There’s no harm in gaining his goodwill, either, for he said that his general, with the main force, would be here to-morrow.”