“It wuz puttin’ on too much damned style for a nigger!”
This wuz Col. Seybert’s decree, echoed by many a low, brutal, envious mind about him, encased in black and white bodies.
And one mornin’, when Hester went out in the bright May sunshine to carry Posy its mornin’ bit of food from the breakfast-table, with little Ned followin’ behind with his bit of sugar for it, the pretty creeter had jest enough strength to drag itself up to its mistress and fix its pitiful eyes on her in helpless appeal, and dropped dead at her feet.
They found the remains of a poisoned cake in the pasture, and on the fence wuz pinned a placard bearin’ the inscription—
“LOW, BRUTAL, ENVIOUS MIND.”
“No damned niggers can ride wile wit foaks wak afut—so good buy an’ take warnin’.”
They did not try to keep a horse after this. Felix took his long mornin’ and evenin’ walks with a sore, indignant heart that dragged down his tired limbs still more.
And Hester wiped away the tears of little Ned, and tried to explain to his bewildered mind why his pretty favorite could not come up to him when he called it so long and patiently, holdin’ out the temptin’ lump of sugar that had always hastened its fleet step.