I found her undertaking to remove from the hands
of Annie, her ponderous black cook, a musket which the latter was
attempting to rest over the window sill of the kitchen.
"Thar he goes now, the brack rascal!" cried Annie, down whose sable
countenance large tears were coursing. "Lemme get one good shot at him.
I can shore hit him that clost."
"Be silent! Annie," commanded Kitty, "and give me this gun. If I hear of
your shooting at Benjie any more I'll certainly discharge you.
"You see," explained Kitty to me, "Annie used to be married to Benjie
Martin, who works for Colonel Meriwether, at the house just beyond the
trees there."
"I'se married to him _yit_," said Annie, between sobs. "Heap more'n that
taller-faced yaller girl he done taken up with now."
"I think myself," said Kitty, judicially, "that Benjie might at least
bow to his former wife when he passes by."
"That'd be all I _wanted_," said Annie; "but I kaint stand them horty
ways. Why, I mended the very shirt he's got on his back right now; and I
_bought_ them shoes fer him."
"Annie's _such_ a poor shot!" explained Kitty. "She has taken a pot-shot
at Benjie I don't know how many times, but she always misses.
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