Uncle Charlie stepped forward, pulled old Jerry off the step without ceremony, and said, severely: "Yo' got a heap o' gab, but yo' better tote yo'self down to de gyarden an' do yo' chores." Then, looking up at the mistress: "An' 'tain't no use, ma'am, fo' yo' t' stan' up dah on de po'ch an' tell us we all 'mancyperated, and yo' don' care nuthin' no mo' 'bout us. Dar's a heap o' cotton got t' be picked, and we got t' pick it." He turned away to his companions: "Come 'long, yo' lazy black niggers, jes' stir yo' stumps!" "No, Charlie, no; the cotton must rot in the fields." Blank astonishment swept over the dusky crowd. "Golly!" said one or two under their breath, while the others stood speechless, with mouths open and round eyes fixed and staring. "Ef yo' thinkin' 'bout us bein' 'mancyperated an' 'spectin' to be _paid_," began Jerry, while a ripple of contempt at the notion passed over the bewildered throng, "well, we _ain't_ 'spectin'." "You are expecting to be fed," said Mrs. Gano, more gently than they were accustomed to hear their mistress speak, "and that's more than I can do for so many any longer." The newly emancipated lifted up their voices and wept. "For Law's sake, don' sen' us away, Mis' G'no!" "I reckon yo' can't git 'long widout me and Tom nohow." "We don' want nuthin' to eat," said Mississippi Maria, sobbing, while she cuffed the only completely happy person present--a youth of four or five, who clung to her skirt with one hand, while with the other he clutched a section of green melon. "Put dat down, yo' greedy gump!"--his grandmother clouted him over the head till he, too, joined in the general lamentation--"stuffin' yo'self wid watermillion fo' ladies." "We gwine to wuk hard _dis_ time, Mis' G'no," said another voice from out the general clamor, "and we don't need no bacon. Corn-pone and 'lasses is 'nough fo' any nigger." "I'm sorry for you, but the Northerners have not only freed you, they have crippled us. We can't afford to have you here any longer. You must all go, except Jerusha and her children." There was a lull of incredulity, and then a steadily rising storm of dismal howling. "'Tain't fair!" shrieked old Chloe. "I done come yer fust--long befo' Jerusha. Missis! Missis! I done come to G'nos fo' yo' did yo'self." "I _dassent_ leab yo'," Jerry persisted. "Massa 'd 'mos' 'a' killed me ef he'd ebber thought I'd leab yo' and little missy to dem debbils o' Yankees. 'Tain't safe, ma'am--'tain't safe." It was not Mrs. Gano's way to show emotion. She turned abruptly, and disappeared in the house. She had the well-earned reputation of being no easy mistress. But she had treated her slaves justly, according to her lights, and this hour of enforced setting them adrift was bitter on other than political and economic grounds. CHAPTER II