him singin' low like he was afraid he'd wake somebody. I'd sit down there by the window and cry for you and dream of your comin' home till he'd sing me to sleep in the chair. And now we've got to leave him. Oh Lord, my heart is broken! I can't see the way!"
She buried her face on Tom's shoulder and shook with sobs.
"Hush, hush, honey, we must face trouble. We are used to it."
"But not this, Tom. It'll tear my heart out when I have to leave."
"It can't be helped, Annie. We've got to pay for this nigger government."
Eleven o'clock was the hour fixed for the sale. At half past ten a crowd of negroes had gathered. There were only two or three white men present, the Agent of the Freedman's Bureau and some of his henchmen.
They began to inspect the place. Tim Shelby was present, dressed in a suit of broadcloth and a silk hat placed jauntily on his close-cropped scalp.
"That's a fine orchard, gentlemen," Tim exclaimed.
"Yes, en dats er fine gyarden," said a negro standing near.
"Let's look at the house," said Tim starting to the door.
Tom stood up in the doorway with a musket in his hand, "Put your foot on that doorstep and I'll blow your brains out, you flat-nosed baboon!"
Tim paused and bowed with a smile.
"Ain't the premises for sale, Mr. Camp?"
"Yes, but my family ain't for inspection by niggers."
"Just wanted to see the condition of the house, sir," said Tim still smiling.
"Well, I'm livin' here yet, and don't you forget it,"
