He was followed by
a brisk, young mulatto.
"If yo' please, Massa," said the old preacher, dropping unconsciously
into the familiar form of address, "this is Peter, young Peter's
father."
"I've seen him before," the Colonel said abruptly "Peter, were you on
this plantation?"
"Yas, Massa."
"What's the matter with him, Ephraim?" queried the old soldier. "He
looks to me as though he hadn't had enough to eat."
"It isn't only that, Massa," said the negro, "he's been whipped 'most to
death."
"Whipped!" cried Hamilton, startled. Then, remembering suddenly that
the matter was not his concern, he flushed and turned to the Colonel.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "I forgot."
The old soldier, who had been a stern disciplinarian in his time, had
drawn himself up indignantly at the boy's interruption, but his
immediate apology caused the old gentleman to see that it was just a
flash of boyish indignation, so he merely turned and said:
"Let him tell his story."
"Ah was born hyar durin' the war," the negro began. "Ah c'n jes'
remember Missis, an' Ah've often heard mah mother cry when we was livin'
in Atlanta an' trouble come, 'If only Ah could go to Missis.
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