Part 21 (1/2)
Aunt Linda sat at the table in such a flutter of excitement that she could hardly eat, but she gazed with intense satisfaction on her guests.
Robert sat on her right hand, contrasting Aunt Linda's pleasant situation with the old days in Mrs. Johnson's kitchen, where he had played his pranks upon her, and told her the news of the war.
Over Iola there stole a spirit of restfulness. There was something so motherly in Aunt Linda's manner that it seemed to recall the bright, suns.h.i.+ny days when she used to nestle in Mam Liza's arms, in her own happy home. The conversation was full of army reminiscences and recollections of the days of slavery. Uncle Daniel was much interested, and, as they rose from the table, exclaimed:--
”Robby, seein' yer an' hearin' yer talk, almos' puts new springs inter me. I feel 'mos' like I war gittin' younger.”
After the supper, Salters and his guests returned to the front room, which Aunt Linda regarded with so much pride, and on which she bestowed so much care.
”Well, Captin,” said Salters, ”I neber 'spected ter see you agin. Do you know de las' time I seed yer? Well, you war on a stretcher, an' four ob us war carryin' you ter de hospital. War you much hurt?
”No,” replied Robert, ”it was only a flesh wound; and this young lady nursed me so carefully that I soon got over it.”
”Is dat de way you foun' her?”
”Yes, Andrews,”--
”Salters, ef you please,” interrupted Salters. I'se only Andrews wen I gits my money.”
”Well, Salters,” continued Robert, ”our freedom was a costly thing. Did you know that Captain Sybil was killed in one of the last battles of the war? These young chaps, who are taking it so easy, don't know the hards.h.i.+ps through which we older ones pa.s.sed. But all the battles are not fought, nor all the victories won. The colored man has escaped from one slavery, and I don't want him to fall into another. I want the young folks to keep their brains clear, and their right arms strong, to fight the battles of life manfully, and take their places alongside of every other people in this country. And I cannot see what is to hinder them if they get a chance.”
”I don't nuther,” said Salters. ”I don't see dat dey drinks any more dan anybody else, nor dat dere is any meanness or debilment dat a black man kin do dat a white man can't keep step wid him.”
”Yes,” a.s.sented Robert, ”but while a white man is stealing a thousand dollars, a black man is getting into trouble taking a few chickens.”
”All that may be true,” said Iola, ”but there are some things a white man can do that we cannot afford to do.”
”I beliebs eberybody, Norf and Souf, is lookin' at us; an' some ob dem ain't got no good blood fer us, nohow you fix it,” said Salters.
”I specs cullud folks mus' hab done somethin',” interposed Aunt Linda.
”O, nonsense,” said Robert. ”I don't think they are any worse than the white people. I don't believe, if we had the power, we would do any more lynching, burning, and murdering than they do.”
”Dat's so,” said Aunt Linda, ”it's ralely orful how our folks hab been murdered sence de war. But I don't think dese young folks is goin' ter take things as we's allers done.”
”We war cowed down from the beginnin',” said Uncle Daniel, ”but dese young folks ain't comin' up dat way.”
”No,” said Salters, ”fer one night arter some ob our pore people had been killed, an' some ob our women had run'd away 'bout seventeen miles, my gran'son, looking me squar in de face, said: 'Ain't you got five fingers? Can't you pull a trigger as well as a white man?' I tell yer, Cap, dat jis' got to me, an' I made up my mine dat my boy should neber call me a coward.”
”It is not to be expected,” said Robert, ”that these young people are going to put up with things as we did, when we weren't permitted to hold a meeting by ourselves, or to own a club or learn to read.”
”I tried,” said Salters, ”to git a little out'er de book wen I war in de army. On Sundays I sometimes takes a book an' tries to make out de words, but my eyes is gittin' dim an' de letters all run togedder, an' I gits sleepy, an' ef yer wants to put me to sleep jis' put a book in my han'. But wen it comes to gittin' out a stan' ob cotton, an' plantin'
corn, I'se dere all de time. But dat gran'son ob mine is smart as a steel trap. I specs he'll be a preacher.”
Salters looked admiringly at his grandson, who sat grinning in the corner, munching a pear he had brought from the table.
”Yes,” said Aunt Linda, ”his fadder war killed by the Secesh, one night, comin' home from a politic meetin', an' his pore mudder died a few weeks arter, an' we mean to make a man ob him.”
”He's got to larn to work fust,” said Salters, ”an' den ef he's right smart I'se gwine ter sen' him ter college. An' ef he can't get a libin'
one way, he kin de oder.”