"Don't talk so, Aun' Suke. I'm not strong enough to stand foolishness. You will go back with me and stay with Uncle Lusthah and Aun' Jinkey and Zany. You will cook for us all just the same and by and by you will be as free as I am." "Well, Miss Lou, I comin' back lak de perdigous son, but ole miss ain' got no fatted calf fer me, ner you neider, I reckon. I des feered on w'at ole miss say en do." "Aun' Suke," said the girl, taking the woman's great black hand, "you stand by me and I'll stand by you. When I get stronger we'll see what's best to be done. Now I can't think, I don't know. I only feel that we must help one another till all is clearer." Mrs. Baron accepted Aun' Suke's presence in the kitchen again in grim silence. She believed it the earnest of the speedy return of all the others, and resolved to bide her time when the Southern armies restored completely the old order of things. Mrs. Whately drove over during the day and was aghast at what had occurred. "I have kept the great majority of my hands by conciliation and promising them a share in the crops. Indeed, I had virtually to treat them as if free. It was either that or ruin." "Well," growled her brother, "you can't keep that pace and I wouldn't begin it." "I can only do the best I can, from day to day," sighed the lady, "and I've been almost distracted." After showing her affectionate solicitude for Miss Lou she returned, feeling that her presence at home was now hourly needed. Gradually the little household began to adjust itself to the new order of things, and day by day Mr. and Mrs. Baron were compelled to see that the few servants who ministered to them were kept at their tasks by an influence in which they had no part. Almost imperceptibly, Miss Lou regained her strength, yet was but the shadow of her former self. Uncle Lusthah gave his attention to the garden, already getting weed-choked. The best he could hope to do was to keep up a meagre supply of vegetables, and Zany in the cool of the day often gave him a helping hand. Late one afternoon Miss Lou, feeling a little stronger, went to Aun' Jinkey's cabin and sat down on the doorstep. "Oh, mammy," she sighed, "I'm so tired, I'm so tired; yet I can do nothing at all." "You po' lil chile," groaned Aun' Jinkey, "how dif'ernt you looks ner w'en you fus sot dar en wish sump'n happen." "Oh," cried the girl almost despairingly, "too much has happened! too much has happened! How can God let such troubles come upon us?" "Eben Uncle Lusthah hab ter say he dunno. He say he des gwine ter hole on twel de eend, en dat all he kin do." "Oh, mammy, I'm all at sea. I haven't any strength to hold on and there doesn't seem anything to hold on to. Oh, mammy, mammy, do you think he's surely dead?" "I feared he is," groaned Aun' Jinkey. "Dey say he spook come arter Perkins en dat w'y de oberseer clared out."