“Ah, my dear sir, that is very different,” said Dr. Cary. “May I ask,
have you any official—ah—? Do you expect to stay among us?”
“Do you mean, am I a carpet-bagger?” asked Major Welch, with a smile.
But the other was serious.
“I would not insult you under my roof by asking you that question,”
he said, gravely. “I mean are you thinking of settling among us as a
gentleman?”
“Well, I can hardly say yet—but, perhaps, I am—thinking of it,” said
Major Welch. “At least, that is one reason why I asked you about that
man, Still.”
“Oh, well, of course, if you ask as my guest, I will take pleasure in
giving you any information you may wish.”
“Is he a gentleman?” interrupted Major Welch.
“Oh, no—certainly not that, sir. He is hand in glove with the
carpet-baggers, and the leader of the negroes about here. He and a
carpet-bagger named Leech, and a negro preacher or exhorter named
Sherwood, who, by the way, was one of my own negroes, and a negro
named Ash, who belonged to my friend General Legaie, and a sort of
trick-doctor named Moses, whom I once saved from hanging, are the worst
men in this section.”
Major Welch had listened in silence, and now he changed the subject;
for from the reference to Leech he began to think more and more that it
was only prejudice which made these men objects of such narrow dislike.
When Ruth went up to bed she was in a sort of maze. The old negro woman
whom she had seen downstairs came up to wait on her, and Miss Welch was
soon enlightened as to several things. One was, that Dr. Cary’s family
was one of the greatest in the State—perhaps, in the old woman’s
estimation, the greatest—except, of course, Mrs. Cary’s, to which
Mammy Krenda gave rather the pre-eminence as she herself had always
belonged to that family and had nursed Mrs. Cary and Miss Blair,
her daughter. According to her they had been very rich, but had lost
everything, first by the war, and then, by the wickedness of someone,
against whom the old woman was especially bitter. “He ain’ nuttin’ but
a low-down nigger-trader, nohow,” she declared, savagely. “He done
cheat ev’ybody out der home, he and dat Leech together, an’ now dey
think dey got ev’ything der own way, but dey’ll see. Dey’s dem as knows
how to deal wid ’em. An’ ef dee ever lay dee han’s pon me, dee’ll fine
out. We ain’ gwine live in blacksmiff shop always. Dem’s stirrin’ what
dee ain’ know ’bout, an’ some day dee’ll heah ’em comin for ’em to
judgment.”
“Ken I help you do anything?” she asked, presently.
“No, I thank you,” said Ruth, stiffly. “Good-night.”
“Good-night,” and she went.
“Why, she don’t like us as much as she does them!” said the girl to
herself, filled with amazement at this revolution of all her ideas.
“Well, Larry’s right. Miss Cary is charming,” she reflected.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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