"Miss Lou" Part 15

"He has brought deliverance," cried Mrs. Whately, entering. "I questioned Aun' Suke, thinking that she might have seen Madison if he left the house. She did see him safe and sound. She also saw him get a horse and ride away."

"Ah, poor boy! how different was his departure from what he had every reason to hope and expect!" replied Mr. Baron. "I should think your heart would be remorseful, indeed, Louise, when you picture your cousin flying from his kindred and home, alone and sad, tortured meanwhile by thoughts of the fate which has overtaken us."

"I'm sure, uncle, we are all sitting quietly in the parlor. That does not seem very dreadful."

"You little know, young woman, you little realize the cunning depravity--"

"There now, brother," interposed Mrs. Whately, "we must not think evil until we see more evidence of it, even in Yankees. I admit that I am most wonderfully and agreeably disappointed. The young officer in whose hands we are might have killed my son, but did not. I must at least be just to such a man."

"And you know he has been polite to us all, and told us to dismiss our fears," added Miss Lou demurely.

"It would almost seem, Louise, that you welcomed these invaders. I am too old and well informed not to know that this suave manner he affects is designed to lull us into a sense of false security."

At this moment a firm step was heard on the veranda, followed by a rap from the bra.s.s knocker. They knew it was Scoville, and Mr. Baron rose and advanced to the parlor entrance. He a.s.sumed the solemn aspect of one who now must face the exactions and wrongs which he had predicted, and his wife tremblingly followed, to perish at his side if need be.

But the invader barely stepped within the hall and stood uncovered as he said politely, "Mr. Baron, I have now practically made my dispositions for the night. There is no reason why your domestic routine should not be resumed as usual. As I said before, I pledge you my word you shall not be disturbed unless we are attacked.

Good-evening, sir. Good-evening, ladies," and he bowed and withdrew, leaving the old gentleman speechless in the utter reversal of all that he had declared would take place. No plundering, no insults, no violence. On the contrary, even his beloved routine might be resumed.

He turned around to his wife and sister almost gasping, "Is this some deep-laid plot?"

"It certainly must be," echoed his wife.

Miss Lou turned away quickly and stuffed her handkerchief in her mouth to prevent laughing outright.

Her uncle caught her in the act and was instantly in a rage.

"Shame upon you!" he cried. "Enemies without and traitors within."

This charge touched the girl to the quick, and she replied with almost equal anger, "I'm no traitor. Where has your loyalty to me been to-day?

Look at me, uncle, and fix the fact in your mind, once for all, that I am neither a child nor an idiot. G.o.d has given me a mind and a conscience as truly as to you, and I shall use them. This Northern officer says we are safe. I believe it and you will know it in the morning. Now I simply insist that you and aunt treat me with the respect due to my years and station. I've endured too much to-day to be patient under anything more. I meant no disrespect to you in laughing, but I cannot help being glad that instead of all sorts of horrible things happening we are treated with simple and even delicate politeness."

"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 a.s.serting 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."

"Mrs. Baron," said her husband in strong irritation, "don't you see there is nothing left for us to do? No matter how things turn out, the presence of these Yankees involves what is intensely disagreeable. If sister is right in regard to this man--and I suppose I must admit she is till I know him better--he has made it necessary for our own self-respect to treat him with courtesy. Our pride will not permit us to accept this from him and make no return. It may be Yankee cunning which led him to foresee this, for I suppose it is pleasing to many of the tribe to gain their ends by finesse. Probably if this doesn't secure them, he will try harsher methods. Anyway, as long as he plays at the game of courtesy, we, as sister says, should teach him that we know what the word means. The mischief is that you never can know just what a Yankee is scheming for or aiming at."

"Well, brother, supposing your words are true, as I do not think they are in this instance, it is due to our dignity that we act like sincere people who are above even suspecting unworthy motives. We do not compromise ourselves in the matter. We only meet courtesy with courtesy, like well-bred people."

"Well, so be it then. In fact, I would like to ask this man what he and those he represents can hope to gain by invasion equalled only by that of the Goths and Vandals."

CHAPTER XIV

A THREAT

The moment Chunk believed that Scoville could dispense with his services for a time he made his way promptly to the back veranda and gave a low, peculiar whistle which Zany recognized. He had ceased in her estimation to be merely a subject for infinite jest. Though not very advanced in the scale of civilization, she was influenced by qualities which appealed to her mind, and possessed many traits common to her s.e.x. His shrewdness and courage were making good his lack of inches. Above all, he was in favor with the "head Link.u.m man," and Zany belonged to that cla.s.s ever ready to greet the rising sun. While all this was true, she could not be herself and abandon her coquettish impulses and disposition to tease. She came slowly from the dining-room and looked over Chunk's head as if she could not see him. Bent on retaliation, he stepped behind her, lifted her in his powerful arms and carried her on a full run to some screening shrubbery, the irate captive cuffing his ear soundly all the way. Setting her down, he remarked quietly, "Now I reckon you kin fin' me."

"Yo' wool git gray 'fo' you fin' me agin," she replied, making a feint of starting for the house.

"Berry well, Miss Zany. I see you doan want ter be a free gyurl. I'se tell Ma.r.s.e Scoville you no 'count n.i.g.g.ah."

"W'at you want anyhow, imperdence?"

"I wants sup'n ter eat. Does you 'spects I kin ride all night en all day ter brung you freedom, en den not eben git a good word? You ain'

fit fer freedom. I'se tell some nachel-bawn fool ter gib you a yaller rib'on en den dere be two ob you."

"La now, Chunk," she replied, coming back, "ef I wuz lookin' fer a fool I des stay right yere. Ef you git a pa'r ob steps en look in my face you'd see I'se bettah fren' ter you ner you ter me. You stay yere en I brings you w'at you tink a heap on mor'n me," and now she darted away with intentions satisfactory to her strategic admirer.

Chunk grinned and soliloquized, "Reck'n I kin fotch dat gyurl roun' wid all her contrariations. I des likes her skittishness, but I ain'

tellin' her so, kaze I gwine ter hab my han's full as 'tis."

Zany soon returned with a plate well heaped, for at this time her argus-eyed mistress was sitting in the parlor, awaiting whatever fate the ruthless Yankees might impose. Chunk sat Turk-fashion on the ground and fell to as if famished, meanwhile listening eagerly to the girl's account of what had happened during his absence.

"Hi!" said Zany disdainfully, "you'd mek lub ter Aun' Suke ef she fed you."

"I kin mek mo'n lub," Chunk answered, nodding at her portentously; "I kin mek mischief."

"Reck'n you do dat anyhow."

"See yere, Zany, does you tink Ma.r.s.e Scoville a fool?"

"Ob co'se not."

"Well, he doan tink me a fool. Whose 'pinion's wuth de mos'? Who took keer on 'im? Who got 'im off safe right un'er de nose ob one ob Mad Whately's sogers? Who brung 'im back des in time ter stop dat ar mar'age en gib we uns freedom? You mighty peart, but you got a heap ter larn 'fo' you cut yo' eye-tooths."

"Some folks gits dere eye-tooths en doan git nuthin' wid 'em," Zany remarked nonchalantly. "I'se 'mit dough dat you comin' on, Chunk. W'en you gits growed up you'se be right smart."

"I doan min' de foolishness ob yo' talk, Zany," Chunk replied coolly, between his huge mouthfuls. "Dat's in you, en you kyant he'p hit any mo'n a crow cawin'. I'se allus mek 'lowance fer dat. I des 'proves dis 'casion ter 'zort you ter be keerful w'at you DOES. Dere's gwine ter be mighty ticklish times--sorter flash-bang times, yer know. I'se a free man--des ez free as air, en I'se hired mysef ter Ma.r.s.e Scoville ter wait on 'im. I'se growed up anuff ter know he kin tek de shine off eny man I eber see, or you neider. He yo' boss now well ez mine. I'se gib 'im a good report on you ef I kin. I'se feard, howsomeber, dat he say you outgrowed yo' sense."