“‘Of all the durned cheek!’ says he at last, speaking in his queer fayshion. ‘If the boys around was to know he had the face to ax a young British girl to marry him, I tell ye what,’ he says, ‘he’d be lynched afore he knew where he was!’
“‘Dear, to be sure,’ cries Mrs. Mayne, a-clappin’ of her hands together, ‘what’s wrong wi’ the man?’
“‘P’r’aps he’s got a wife already,’ says Maria.
“‘Maybe ’tisn’t the same Samuel Johnson,’ says I. ‘I d’ ’low I seem to ha’ heerd o’ the name afore.’
“‘’Tis a play-actin’ kind o’ a name,’ says Maria.
“Poor Tamsine, she was so white as any sheet, an’ she did stretch out her hand an’ grab hold o’ Jim by the sleeve, an’ shake ’en.
“‘Tell I quick,’ she cried; an’ then she drops her hand, an’ begins a-cryin’.
“‘No, don’t tell me,’ she says; ‘don’t ye tell me nothing. I’m bound every way. I’ve a-passed my word,’ says she; ‘an’ he’s actually sent the money for my ticket. I can’t go back now!’
“‘Yes, but you shall go back,’ cries Jim, a-catchin’ of her by the wrist. ‘I’ll not stand by—no honest man could, an’ see a young girl—a good honest young girl, sold to such a chap as Johnson. Why, he’s a nigger!’ he cries.
“Poor Tamsine, I thought she’d ha’ fell off the seat.