Tom determined not to be cheated out of his coffee, and instead of putting himself in a flurry, he took the bowl in one hand and the pistol in the other. The door opened, and a negro timidly entered the room.
"Well, sar!" said the servant, as he edged along the side of the room. "Hem! Well, sar!"
Tom took no notice of him, but continued to drink his coffee as coolly as though he had been in his mother's cottage at Pinchbrook.
"Hem! Well, sar!" repeated the negro, who evidently wished to have the interloper take some notice of him.
But the soldier boy refused to descend from his dignity or his impudence. He finished the bowl of coffee as deliberately as though the darkey had been somewhere else.
"Good chicken! Good bread! Good bacon!" added Tom. "Are the folks at home, Blackee?"
"No, sar; nobody but de women folks, sar. Who's you, sar?"
"It don't make much difference who I am. Where's your master?"
"Gone to Richmond, sar. He's member ob Congress."
"Then he's in poor business, Blackee," said Tom, as he took out his handkerchief, and proceeded to transfer the remnants of his supper to its capacious folds.
But Tom refused to "luff dem alone," and when he had placed them on the handkerchief, he made a bundle of them.
"Golly, sar! I'll tell my missus what's gwine on down here," added the servant, as he moved towards the door.
"See here, Blackee," interposed Tom, pointing his pistol at the negro; "if you move, I'll put one of these balls through your skull."
"De Lud sabe us, massa! Don't shoot dis nigger, massa."
"Hold your tongue then, and mind what I say."
"Yes, massa," whined the darkey, in the most abject tones.
"Now come with me, Blackee, and if you open your mouth, one of these pills shall go down your throat."
Tom flourished his pistol before the negro, and led the way to the window by which he had entered the house. Passing out upon the veranda, he cautiously conducted the terrified servant to the road; and when they had gone a short distance, he halted.
"Now, Blackee, what town is this?" demanded Tom.
"Leeds Manor, sar," replied the trembling negro.
"Only two or tree miles, massa. Now let dis chile go home again."
"Hab mercy on dis nigger dis time, and sabe him."
"I won't hurt you, if you behave yourself."