"Him? Why, Jack, how much money do you s'pose a beautiful servant like Roxy will fetch?"
"Won't that piece he's gwyn to give you buy her?"
"Five dollars? Why, you poor fool, she will bring five hundred dollars—maybe thousands. This nigger trader, with all his gold, would be hard pushed, I 'spect, to buy Roxy."
Jack looked downcast, and failed to wink or whistle.
"Gals like her," said Levin, "goes for mistresses to rich men, an' sometimes they eddicates 'em, I've hearn tell, to know music, an' writin', an' grammar, an' them things."
"And a pore man who wouldn't abuse a gal most white like that, but would respect her an' marry her, too, Levin, they makes laws agin him! Maybe I kin steal Roxy?"
Here Jack whistled low, shut one eye with deep knowingness, and grinned behind his bell-crown.
"Oh, you simpleton!" Levin said. "Where could you take her to?"
"Pennsylvany, Cannydy, Turkey, or some of them Abolition states up thar"—Jack Wonnell indicated the North with his finger. "Ain't there no place where a white man kin treat a bright-skinned slave like that as if they both was a Christian?"
"No," answered Levin, "not in this world."