"Dar, Miss Phill! I'se gwine to bring you some fried chicken and some
almond puddin', and a cup of de strongest coffee I kin make. Hungry
sorrow is mighty bad to bear, honey!"
"Has Master Richard come back?"
"Not he, Miss Phill. He's not a-gwine to come back till de black night
drive him, ef there's any thing strange 'gwine on in de city; dat's
de way wid all men--aint none of dem worth frettin' 'bout."
"Don't say that, Harriet."
"Aint, Miss Phill; I'se bound to say it. Look at Mass'r John! gwine
off all in a moment like; mighty cur'ous perceeding--mighty cur'ous!"
"He has gone to fight in a grand cause."
"Dat's jist what dey all say. Let any one beat a drum a thousand miles
off, and dey's all on de rampage to follow it."
"The Bishop thought Master John right to go."
"Bless your heart, Miss Phill! De Bishop! De Bishop! He don't know
no more 'an a baby 'bout dis world! You should ha' seen de way he take
up and put down Mass'r John's rifle. Mighty onwillin' he was to put
it down--kind ob slow like. I wouldn't trust de Bishop wid no rifle
ef dar was any fightin' gwine on 'bout whar he was. De Bishop! He's
jist de same as all de rest, Miss Phill. Dar, honey! here's de chicken
and de coffee; don't you spile your appetite frettin' 'bout any of
dem."
"I wish Master Richard was home.
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