“They told you a great many things that were not true, Chloe,” said Mrs. Frost quietly. “The color of the skin ought to make no difference where we have it in our power to render kind offices.”
“Do you believe niggers go to de same heaven wid w'ite folks, missus?” asked Chloe, after a pause.
“Why should they not? They were made by the same God.”
“I dunno, missus,” said Chloe. “I hopes you is right.”
“Do you think you can spare Pomp a little while to go home with us?”
“Yes, missus. Here you, Pomp,” she called, “you go home wid dis good lady, and she'll gib you something for your poor sick mudder. Do you hear?”
“I'se goin' to ride?” said Pomp inquiringly.
“Yes,” said Frank good-naturedly.
“Hi, hi, dat's prime!” ejaculated Pomp, turning a somersault in his joy.
“Scramble in, then, and we'll start.”