“Wherever I send you, Louisa?”
“Well, yes, I don’t care, if it isn’t so far off that you can’t come once a week or so to see us, Massa Ross; but I won’t go far, now I tell you.”
“Well, now, go to your charge. I will see you again to-morrow.”
The negress arose, and with an insolent twist of her head to the left shoulder, stood in the door-way fanning herself.
“Well,” said Ross, impatiently, “well, what are you waiting for now!”
“Dis piece of gold in my bosom, Massa Ross,” and the negress placed a plump ebony hand upon her heart. “It is ’gun beginning to feel lonesome.”
“Oh! I had forgotten; here, here.”
Louisa drew forth the pocket handkerchief, which, from its embroidery and exquisite lace, must have been purloined from her mistress, and a second Napoleon was nested in her bosom.
“Stop,” said Ross, as she was going out; “You said that the lady was fainting—that he took the child forth in his arms. Where is it now?”
“How should I know? I s’pose he took the baby to your wife. She was in the back parlor, and he turned that way.”