This "Bob" would never do;
I should have found it as easy to call the chaplain
"Gus" as my tragical-looking contraband by a
title so strongly associated with the tail of a kite.
"What is your other name?" I asked. "I like to call my
attendants by their last names rather than by their first."
"I've got no other, Ma'am; we have our masters' names,
or do without. Mine's dead, and I won't have anything
of his about me."
"Well, I'll call you Robert, then, and you may
fill this pitcher for me, if you will be so kind."
He went; but, through all the tame, obedience
years of servitude had taught him, I could see that
the proud spirit his father gave him was not yet
subdued, for the look and gesture with which he
repudiated his master's name were a more effective
declaration of independence than any Fourth-of-July
orator could have prepared.
We spent a curious week together. Robert
seldom left his room, except upon my errands; and
I was a prisoner all day, often all night, by the
bedside of the Rebel.
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