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He next sought his mother and obtained a little food which the lady had brought to her room. "Where is Cousin Lou?" the young man asked. "She is in her own room, and with Zany's help making bandages. I would advise you not to see her again to-night. You are greatly wearied." "Little wonder, after riding nearly all last night, and the fighting to-day."
Truly, a woman listens more with her heart than her ears, and even in Zany's whisper there was detected a note of tragedy. After an instant Miss Lou faltered, "What is it, Zany?" "Ef you gwine ter yo' room soon I des he'p you undress." How well the girl knew that the faithful slave meant other and less prosaic help! She rose at once, kissed Mrs. Waldo good-night and excused herself.
"Louise, Miss Baron, what is the matter?" she asked in strong solicitude. "I tell you, he's dead," again whispered the girl, looking as if a scene of horror were before her eyes. "The Rebs were so near when they fired, and he fell off his horse sudden. Ch " Quick as light Zany's hand was over the girl's mouth. The scared face and trembling form of the young negress did not escape Mrs.
Her mistress little dreamed, as the girl waited stolidly and sullenly on the table, that she was so swelling with her secret as to be like a powder magazine. But fear rather than faith finally sealed Zany's lips. She was aware that the first question asked would be, "If you knew so much, why didn't YOU tell?" and she could give no reason which would save her from condign punishment.
"Ef you does, you get yosef ober haid en years in hot water," Chunk answered with exasperating sang froid. "You niggahs gwine ter fin' out who's who on dis plantashun 'fo' yo' nex' birthday." Zany's only response was a grimace, and he next carried his exaggerated sense of importance to his granny's cabin.
"But, Zany," said Miss Lou, "you don't think they KNOW anything." "Reck'n hit's all des 'jecterin'," Zany replied. "Kyant be nufin' else. We des got ter face hit out. Doan you fear on me. We uns mus' des star stupid-like ef dey ax questions," and she whisked off again. The girl felt that the spirit of Zany's counsel would be the best policy to adopt.
When Hazlewood's treasures for he was a collector in his way were brought to the hammer, the scraps and odds and ends it contained were found classified in groups under such headings as these Garlands of Gravity, Poverty's Pot Pourri, Wallat of Wit, Beggar's Balderdash, Octagonal Olio, Zany's Zodiac, Noddy's Nuncheon, Mumper's Medley, Quaffing Quavers to Quip Queristers, Tramper's Twattle, or Treasure and Tinsel from the Tewksbury Tank, and the like.
Her fear of spooks was so great that her impulse was to run away with Chunk as far from that haunted plantation as he would take her. Trembling like a wind-shaken leaf, she stole into the garden shrubbery and whispered, "Chunk?" "Hi! yere I is." There was no tantalizing coquetry in Zany's manner now. In a moment she was in Chunk's arms sobbing, "Tek me way off fum dis place.
By the time he was ready to dispense with Zany's services he was so affected by his potations that his aunt, who had appeared on the scene, hastened his retirement. He told the sergeant of the guard to have him called at daybreak and was soon asleep. The indomitable housekeeper, Mrs. Baron, kept the girl busy until everything was put away and the dining-room in perfect order.
He passed so near his cousin's leafy screen that she could look into his flushed, troubled face and could hear him mutter, "Curse it all! I'm forever getting into scrapes." For the first time since Zany's news, pity overcame her anger and she murmured, "Poor spoiled boy! It's well for you and your mother that I'm here."
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