"Good evening, sir. Mr. Tompkins, I believe?"
"That's my name. What is your business with me?" returned the planter, sharply.
"I want to see you," replied the mulatto, coolly, taking, unbidden, a seat on the bench beneath the tree.
"To see me? Well, what for?"
"To talk with you," was the reply.
"What is it?" demanded the planter. "Have you a bad master, and do you want me to buy you?"
"No, sir, I am not for sale," replied the mulatto, his face glowing with a baleful light. "I am no slave, I am free, and free by my own exertions."
"Well, what is it you have to say to me?"
"Something, I think, you will be glad to hear."
The planter began to lose patience. "If you have any thing to say to me, say it at once."