ch she had handed him, "how goes the battle? How
have you been getting on since freedom?"

"Oh, fust rate, fust rate! Wen freedom com'd I jist lit out ob Miss
Johnson's kitchen soon as I could. I wanted ter re'lize I war free, an'
I couldn't, tell I got out er de sight and soun' ob ole Miss. When de
war war ober an' de sogers war still stopping' yere, I made pies an'
cakes, sole em to de sogers, an' jist made money han' ober fist. An' I
kep' on a workin' an' a savin' till my ole man got back from de war wid
his wages and his bounty money. I felt right set up an' mighty big wen
we counted all dat money. We had neber seen so much money in our lives
befo', let alone hab it fer ourselbs. An' I sez, 'John, you take dis
money an' git a nice place wid it.' An' he sez, 'Dere's no use tryin',
kase dey don't want ter sell us any lan'.' Ole Gundover said, 'fore he
died, dat he would let de lan' grow up in trees 'fore he'd sell it to
us. An' dere war Mr. Brayton; he buyed some lan' and sole it to some
cullud folks, an' his ole frien's got so mad wid him dat dey wouldn't
speak ter him, an' he war borned down yere. I tole ole Miss Anderson's
daughter dat we wanted ter git some homes ob our ownselbs. She sez, 'Den
you won't want ter work for us?' Jis' de same as ef we could eat an'
drink our houses. I tell yer, Robby, dese white folks don't know
eberything."

"That's a fact, Aunt Linda."

"Den I sez ter John, 'wen one door shuts anoder opens.' An' shore
'nough, ole Gundover died, an' his place war all in debt, an' had to be
sole. Some Jews bought it, but dey didn't want to farm it, so dey gib us
a chance to buy it. Dem Jews hez been right helpful to cullud people wen
dey hab lan' to sell. I reckon dey don't keer who buys it so long as dey
gits de money. Well, John didn't gib in at fust; didn't want to let on
his wife knowed more dan he did, an' dat he war ruled ober by a woman.
Yer know he is an' ole Firginian, an' some ob dem ole Firginians do so
lub to rule a woman. But I kep' naggin at him, till I specs he got tired
of my tongue, an' he went and buyed dis piece ob lan'. Dis house war on
it, an' war all gwine to wrack. It used to belong to John's ole marster.
His wife died right in dis house, an' arter dat her husband went right
to de dorgs; an' now he's in de pore-house. My! but ain't dem tables
turned. When we knowed it war our own, warn't my ole man proud! I seed
it in him, but he wouldn't let on. Ain't you men powerful 'ceitfu