Tom began to be entirely at home, for having thrown himself on his impudence now; he did not permit any doubts or fears to disturb him; but the handle of his pistol protruded from between the buttons of his coat.

He ate till he had satisfied himself, when he happened to think that the coffee pot he had seen in the closet might contain some cold coffee; and he brought it out.

He was not disappointed, and even found sugar and milk.

He poured out a bowl of the beverage, and, having prepared it to his taste, was about to conclude the feast in this genteel style, when he heard footsteps in the adjoining entry.
Tom determined not to be cheated out of his coffee, and instead of putting himself in a flurry, he took the bowl in one hand and the pistol in the other.

The door opened, and a negro timidly entered the room.
"Well, sar!" said the servant, as he edged along the side of the room.
"Hem! Well, sar!" Tom took no notice of him, but continued to drink his coffee as coolly as though he had been in his mother's cottage at Pinchbrook.
"Hem! Well, sar!" repeated the negro, who evidently wished to have the interloper take some notice of him.
But the soldier boy refused to descend from his dignity or his impudence.
He finished the bowl of coffee as deliberately as though the darkey had been somewhere else.
"Well, sar! Who's you, sar ?" "Eh, Blackee ?" "Who's you, sar ?" "Good chicken! Good bread! Good bacon!" added Tom.