"That hurts; you've pulled out a couple of hairs, and I'm proud of them."
"You're proud of them then?" And she tenderly stroked his face, pronouncing at the same time a so-called healing-spell, which she had learned of Knopf for the healing of a wound.
"Have you the dog still?" asked Lilian.
"Yes, he must have gone with Eric. Where is he, I wonder?"
He whistled, and Griffin came up. Lilian caressed the dog, and kissed him, and said all kinds of loving words to him.
"I'll give the dog to you," said Roland.
"See," cried the child, "he's looking at you; he knows he's to be handed over to another master, just as a slave is. But, Roland, I can't take the dog with me. I mustn't say anything to father about it. Only think how much trouble we should have before we reached New York; you'd better keep him."
Roland had been lost in thought; now he asked abruptly,—
"Have you ever seen any slaves?"
"No, when they come to us they aren't slaves any longer. But I've seen many who've been slaves—one is a friend of father's, and father goes through the streets with him, arm in arm."