"Laws, missis," said Tom, "it's just one of dese yer poor white trash, coming round here trying to sell one thing o' nother. Miss Loo says it won't do 'courage 'em, and I's de same 'pinion."
"Send him round here to me," said Nina, who, partly from humanity, and partly from a spirit of contradiction, had determined to take up for the poor white folks, on all occasions. Tomtit ran accordingly, and soon brought to the veranda a man whose wretchedly tattered clothing scarcely formed a decent covering. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, and he stood before Nina with a cringing, half-ashamed attitude; and yet one might see that, with better dress and better keeping, he might be made to assume the appearance of a handsome, intelligent man. "What do you ask for your fish?" she said to him.
"Anything ye pleases!"
"Where do you live?" said Nina, drawing out her purse.
"My folks's staying on Mr. Gordon's place."
"Why don't you get a place of your own to stay on?" said Nina.
There was an impatient glance flashed from the man's eye, but it gave place immediately to his habitual cowed expression, as he said,—
"Can't get work—can't get money—can't get nothing."
"Dear me," said her Uncle John, who had been standing for a moment listening to the conversation. "This must be husband of that poor hobgoblin that has lighted down on my place lately. Well, you may as well pay him a good price for his fish. Keep them from starving one day longer, may be." And Nina paid the man a liberal sum, and dismissed him.
"I suppose, now, all my eloquence wouldn't make Rose cook those fish for dinner," said Nina.