“Sech foolishness!” ejaculated Aun’ Jinkey with a disdainful sniff.  “She lebe you des lak a cat dat snoop off enywhar en arter enybody w’at got mo’ vittles.  Wat she keer?”

Down came the apron, revealing black eyes blazing through the tears which were dashed right and left as Zany cried, “You ole himage, w’at you keer?  You tink a hun’erd times mo’ ob yer pipe ner Miss Lou.  Long ez you kin smoke en projeck in dat ar ole cabin hole you woan lebe his ’less you turned out.  I des gwine ter stay out’n spite en doan wanter go a hun’erd mile ob dat gran’boy ob yourn.”

“There, Zany,” said Miss Lou gently, holding out her hand.  “I understand you and Aun’ Jinkey both, and you both are going to stay out of love for me.  I reckon you won’t be sorry in the end.”

Up went the apron again and Zany admitted, “I kyant lebe you, Miss Lou, I des kyant,” as she rushed away to indulge in the feminine relief of tears without stint.

Mr. and Mrs. Baron passed a sleepless night, for even the question of food would be problematical if all the able-bodied men and women on the place went away.  In the early dawn there were ominous sounds at the quarters, and as the light increased a spectacle which filled the old planter and his wife with rage was revealed.  The quarters were empty and all were trooping toward the avenue with bundles containing their belongings.  This was to be expected, but the act which excited the direst indignation was the hitching of the only pair of mules left on the place that were worth anything to the old family carriage.  Aun’ Suke was waddling toward this with the feeling that a “char’ot wuz waitin’ fer her now, sho!”

Mr. and Mrs. Baron looked at each other in quick, comprehensive sympathy, then hastily and partially dressed.  Mr. Baron took his revolver while “ole miss” snatched a sharp carving-knife from the dining-room.  By the time they reached the scene, Aun’ Suke filled the back seat of the carriage and the rest of the space was being filled with babies.

“Stop that!” shouted Mr. Baron.  “Before I’ll let you take my mules I’ll shoot ’em both.”

“Ole miss” wasted no time in threats—­she simply cut the traces and there were Aun’ Suke and the babies stranded.  The negroes drew together on one side and master and mistress on the other.  The faces of the latter were aglow with anger; on the countenances of the former were mingled perplexity and sullen defiance, but the old habit of deference still had its restraining influence.

“Go and starve and leave us to starve, if you will,” shouted Mr. Baron, “but you shall steal none of my property.”

Angry mutterings began among the negroes, and it were hard to say how the scene would have ended if old Uncle Lusthah had not suddenly appeared between the opposing parties, and held up his hand impressively.