"Druv' er off. She know! _She_ know a preacher o' de gospil o' de Lawd Jesus Chris' w'en she see'um! Dey ain't no two ways 'bout dat--'flicted or no 'flicted. Dat dar gal's 'flicted o' course, but she know 'nuf ter know _dat!_ She been tryin ter witch me, _dat_ she is; but Lawd God A'mighty, she hain't got no sense, ter try ter witch _dis_ house wid Mos' Grif an' dat rabbit foot _bofe_ in hit! Dat dar gal's a plum bawn fool ter try dat kine er tricks. She is dat. She's wus dan 'flicted. She's a plum bawn ejiot ter try dat kine er tricks aroun' dese heah diggins. She is dat! Lawsy, Lawsy, she ain' got no sense worf talkin' 'bout I Mos' Grif an' dat rabbit foot bofe t' match up wid! Lawsy, Lawsy, dat dar pore 'flicted gal's a plum bawn fool!" And poor old aunt Judy, still talking to herself, hobbled into the house, satisfied with her estimate of all parties concerned and content with the world as she found it, so long as that world contained for her both a Mos' Grif and her precious rabbit foot. White or black, bond or free, war or peace, were all one to old aunt Judy; nothing mattered in all this infinite puzzle called life, if but there remained to her these two strongholds of her faith and her dependence! And who shall say that aunt Judy was not wise in her day and generation? So wise was she that sorrow, anxiety, and care had passed her lightly by to the end that her eighty years sat upon her shoulders like a pleasant mantle, adjusted, comfortable to a summer breeze. CHAPTER XXIV. _"And what are words? How little these the silence of the soul oppress! Mere froth,--the foam and flower of seas whose hungering waters heave and press Against the planets and the sides of night,--mute, yearning, mystic tides!"_ Bulwer. "I am coming home next month," wrote Roy, "with my wife--the very dearest, sweetest, most lovable and beautiful girl in the whole world. We have decided not to wait, but to be married at once--as soon as she can get ready, and I a bit stronger--and go home for our bridal trip. The winter at home with you will finish up my recovery (and if anything on earth could facilitate it, Emma's nursing and care and love will,) and then if the war is not over, of course I'll go back if I am needed--enlist again. My time is out now; but I hope and believe that the war will be over, or, at least, on its last legs by that time, and then I can begin business at once. My own idea is to take the stock-farm, if father is willing, instead of leaving it to those Martins who don't know the first thing about stock-breeding, and go in for fine horses and a few fine cows, too. I got hold of some books on those subjects here. Emma's father used to have a fancy that way, and I've read up and talked a lot with him on the subject in these four months. Don't you think we could fix the house out there on the place so it would do very well, indeed, for a couple of young folks who won't care so very much about anything at all but each other?"