And he never thought he could do too much for the soldiers who had
rescued her and were bringing deliverance to his race.

"What do you think of Miss Iola?" Robert asked him one day, as they were
talking together.

"I jis' think dat she's splendid. Las' week I had to take some of our
pore boys to de hospital, an' she war dere, lookin' sweet an' putty ez
an angel, a nussin' dem pore boys, an' ez good to one ez de oder. It
looks to me ez ef dey ralely lob'd her shadder. She sits by 'em so
patient, an' writes 'em sech nice letters to der frens, an' yit she
looks so heart-broke an' pitiful, it jis' gits to me, an' makes me mos'
ready to cry. I'm so glad dat Marse Tom had to gib her up. He war too
mean to eat good victuals."

"He ought," said Robert, "to be made to live on herrings' heads and cold
potatoes. It makes my blood boil just to think that he was going to have
that lovely looking young girl whipped for his devilment. He ought to be
ashamed to hold up his head among respectable people."

"I tell you, Bob, de debil will neber git his own till he gits him. When
I seed how he war treating her I neber rested till I got her away. He
buyed her, he said, for his housekeeper; as many gals as dere war on de
plantation, why didn't he git one ob dem to keep house, an' not dat nice
lookin' young lady? Her han's look ez ef she neber did a day's work in
her life. One day when he com'd down to breakfas,' he chucked her under
de chin, an' tried to put his arm roun' her waist. But she jis' frew it
off like a chunk ob fire. She looked like a snake had bit her. Her eyes
fairly spit fire. Her face got red ez blood, an' den she turned so pale
I thought she war gwine to faint, but she didn't, an' I yered her say,