"I gave 'em a dinner of fried chicken
and battercakes, and two of 'em being Yankees hadn't never tasted it
befo'--and a month ago one dropped in to spend the night--"
He broke off hastily, for his wife had joined him at the window, and as Dan
looked up with the flash of the lantern in his face, she gave a cry and
called his name.
"Put on your clothes and go down, you fool," she said, "it's Mr. Dan--don't
you see it's Mr. Dan, and he's as white as yo' nightshirt. Go down, I tell
you,--go down and let him in." There was a skurrying in the room and on the
staircase, and a moment later the door was flung open and a lamp flashed in
the darkness.
"Walk in, suh, walk right in," said Jack Hicks, hospitably, "day or night
you're welcome--as welcome as the Major himself." He drew back and stood
with the lamplight full upon him--a loose, ill-proportioned figure, with a
flabby face and pale blue eyes set under swollen lids.
"I want something to eat, Jack," returned Dan, as he entered and put down
his lantern, "and a place to sleep--in fact I want anything you have to
offer."
Then, as Mrs. Hicks appeared upon the stair, he greeted her, despite his
weariness, with something of his old jesting manner. "I am begging a
supper," he remarked affably, as he shook her hand, "and I may as well
confess, by the way, that I am positively starving."
The woman beamed upon him, as women always did, and while she led the way
into the little dining room, and set out the cold meat and bread upon the
oil-cloth covering of the table, she asked him eager questions about the
Major and Mrs.
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