“Yes, sir, and the wuss for me!” said the old woman.
Charlton took his cue at once, and replied: “They were excellent people, and I’m sorry they’ve gone. What was the matter? Were the slave-catchers after them?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Petticum; “I shouldn’t wonder. Poor Flora! That was all she worried about. I’d like to have got my hands in the hair of the man that would have carried her off. Where’ll you find the white folks better and decenter than they was?”
“Not in New York, ma’am,” said Charlton, stealthily looking about the room, examining every article of furniture, and opening the drawers.
“The furniture belongs to Mr. Craig; but all in the drawers is mine,” said the old woman, not favorably impressed by Charlton’s inquisitiveness.
“O, it’s all right,” replied Charlton; “I didn’t know but I could be of some help. You’ve no idea where they went to?”
“They didn’t tell me, and if I knowed, I shouldn’t tell you, without I knowed they wanted me to.”
“O, it’s no sort of consequence. I’m a particular friend, that’s all,” said Charlton. “Did you notice the carriage they went off in?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Could you tell me the number?”