"Pertinent, you mean," said Mr. Worth. Miss Tildy would not look angry at him; for she was besieging the fortress of his affections, and she deemed kind measures the most advantageous.
Were I to narrate most accurately the conversation that followed, the repartees that flashed from the lips of some, and the anger that burned blue in the faces of others, I should only amuse the reader, or what is more likely, weary him.
I will simply mention that, after a few hours' sojourn, Mr. Worth took his departure, not without first having a long conversation, in a private part of the garden, with young master. Miss Bradly retired to the young ladies' room (for they would not allow her to leave the house), under pretext of headache. Often, as I passed in and out to ask her if she needed anything, I found her weeping bitterly. Late in the evening, about eight o'clock, Mr. Peterkin returned; throwing the reins of his horse to Nace, he exclaimed:
"Well, I've made a good bargain of it; I've sold Lindy to a trader for one thousand dollars—that is, if she answers the description which I gave of her. He is comin' in the mornin' to look at her; and, with a little riggin' up, I think she'll 'pear a rale good-lookin' wench."
When I went into the house to prepare some supper for Mr. Peterkin (the family tea had been despatched two hours before), he was in an excellent humor, well pleased, no doubt, with his good trade.
"Now, Ann, be brisk and smart, or you might find yourself in the trader's hands afore long. Likely yellow gals like you sells mighty well; and if you doesn't behave well you is a goner."
"Down the river" was not terrible to me, nor did I dread being "sold;" yet one thing I did fear, and that was separation from young master. In the last few days he had become to me everything I could respect; nay, I loved him. Not that it was in his power to do me any signal act of good. He could not soften the severity of his father and sisters toward me; yet one thing he could and did do, he spoke an occasional kind, hopeful word to me. Those whose hearts are fed upon kindness and love, can little understand how dear to the lonely, destitute soul, is one word of friendliness. We, to whom the husks are flung with an unfeeling tone, appreciate as manna from heaven the word of gentleness; and now I thought if I were to leave young master my soul would die. Had not his blessed smile elevated and inspired my sinking spirit, and his sweet tone softened my over-taxed heart? Oh, blessed one! even now I think of thee, and with a full heart thank God that such beings have lived!
I watched master dispatch his supper in a most summary manner. At length he settled himself back in his chair, and, taking his tooth-pick from his waistcoat pocket, began picking his teeth.
"Wal, Ann," he said, as he swung himself back in his chair, "how's ole Poll?"