... Her tears evidently were
in the nature of a tribute: she was paying them to an idea. Doubtless
there was a certain largeness about that. But obviously the paying of
such a tribute could do no possible good--unless--to the payer. Was
there anything in that?--in the theory....
Unusual bursts of cheering broke their way into his consciousness, and
he recalled himself to see a squad of negro soldiers, all very old men,
hobbling by. These were of the faithful, whom no number of proclamations
could shake from allegiance to Old Marster. One of them declared himself
to be Stonewall Jackson's cook. Very likely Stonewall Jackson's cooks
are as numerous as once were ladies who had been kissed by LaFayette,
but at any rate this old negro was the object of lively interest all
along the line. He was covered with reunion badges, and carried two live
chickens under his arm.
Queed went down to the bottom step, the better to hear the comments of
the onlookers, for this was what interested him most. He found himself
standing next to an exceptionally clean-cut young fellow of about his
own age.
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