Of all the slaves on the plantation, Chunk appeared the most docile and ready to oblige every one. He waited on the Confederate troopers with alacrity, and grinned at their chaffing with unflagging good-nature. In all the little community, which included an anxious Union scout, Chunk was about the most serene and even-pulsed individual. Nature had endowed him with more muscle than nerves, more shrewdness than intellect, and had quite left out the elements of fear and imagination. He lived intensely in the present; excitement and bustle were congenial conditions, and his soul exulted in the prospect of freedom. Moreover, the fact that he had proved himself to Zany to be no longer a mere object for ridicule added not a little to his elation. Shrewd as himself, she was true to her word of keeping an eye on him, and she was compelled to see that he was acting his part well. Miss Lou positively refused to come down to dinner. She had buried her face in her pillow, and was almost crying her eyes out; for in the confusion of her mind, resulting from her training and inexperience, she feared that if all her kin insisted on her marriage, and gave such reasons as had been urged upon her, she must be married. She was sorely perplexed. Could the Yankees be such ravening wolves as her uncle and cousin represented them to be? Certainly one was not, but then he might be different from the others because he had been to college and was educated. "He said he would be glad to do me any kindness," she sobbed. "Oh, if he could only prevent this marriage! Yet what can he do? I could not even speak to a stranger of my trouble, much less to a Northern soldier. I wish I could see my old mammy. She's the only one who in the least understands me and feels a little like a mother toward me. Oh, what a dreadful thing to be a motherless girl at such a time!" The powers below stairs concluded that it would be best to leave Miss Lou to herself for a time, that she might think over and become reconciled to the need and reasonableness of their action, but Mrs. Baron considerately sent up her dinner by Zany. The unhappy girl shook her head and motioned the tray away. "Hi, now, Miss Lou, w'at you tookin on so fer?" asked the diplomatic Zany. "For more than you can understand." "I un'erstan's a heap mo'n you tink," said Zany, throwing off all disguise in her strong sympathy. "Marse Whately des set out ter mar'y you, ez ef you wuz a post dat cud be stood up en mar'd to enybody at eny time. Hi! Miss Lou, I'se bettah off dan you, fer I kin pick en choose my ole man." "Everybody in the world is better off than I am." "I wudn't stan' it, Miss Lou. I sut'ny wudn't. I'd runned away." "How could I run away? Where could I go to?" "See yere, Miss Lou," and Zany sank her voice to a whisper, "dere's a Linkum man"-- "Hush! how did you know that?"