In this strain I've many times heard them talk, but it always wound up with a smile at the suggestion of the volatile Miss Nellie.
When I had been there but two days, I began to suspect Mrs. Smith's disposition, for she several times declared her opinion that niggers had no business with company, and that her's shouldn't have any. This was a damper to my hopes, for my chief motive for wishing to be sold in L—— was the pleasure I expected to derive from Henry's society. Every night, as early as eight, the servants were ordered to their respective quarters, and, as I slept in the house, a stolen interview with him would have been impossible, as Mrs. Smith was too alert for me to make an unobserved exit. On the second evening of my sojourn there, Henry called to see me about half-past seven o'clock; and, just as I was beginning to yield myself up to pleasure, Mrs. Smith came to the kitchen, and, seeing him there, asked,
"Whose negro is this?"
"Henry Graham is my name, Missis," was the reply.
"Well, what business have you here?"
Henry was embarrassed; he hung his head, and, after a moment, faltered out,
"I came to see Ann, Missis."
"Where do you belong?"
"I belong to Mr. Graham, but am hired to the G—— House."
"Well, then, go right there; and, if ever I catch you in my kitchen again, I'll send your master word, and have you well flogged. I don't allow negro men to come to see my servants. I want them to have no false notions put into their heads. A nigger has no business visiting; let him stay at home and do his master's work. I shouldn't be surprised if I missed something out of the kitchen, and if I do, I shall know that you stole it, and you shall be whipped for it; so shall Ann, for daring to bring strange niggers into my kitchen. Now, clear yourself, man."