"She is still asleep."
"Yes, I said she was possuming; but by to-morrow, if she ain't up outen that ar' bunk of hers, I'll know the reason; and I'll sell her to the trader that's comin' for Lindy."
"I wish you would sell her, father, and buy a new cook; she prepares everything in such an old-fashioned manner—can't make a single French dish," said Miss Jane.
"I don't care a cuss 'bout yer French dishes, or yer fashionable cooks; I's gwine to sell her, becase the craps didn't yield me much this year, and I wants money, so I must make it by sellin' off niggers."
"You must not sell Aunt Polly, and you shall not," said young master, with a fearful emphasis.
"What do you mean, lad?" cried the infuriated father, and he sprang from his seat, and was in the very act of rushing upon the offender; but suddenly he quailed before the fixed, determined gaze of that eye. He looked again, then cowered, reeled, and staggered like a drunken man, and, falling back in his chair, he covered his face with his hands, and uttered a fearful groan. The ladies were frightened; they had never seen their father thus fearfully excited. They dared not speak one word. The finger of an awful silence seemed laid upon each and every one present. At length young master, with a slow step, approached his father, and, taking the large hand, which swung listlessly, within his own, said, "Fath—;" but before he had finished the syllable, Mr. Peterkin sprang up, exclaiming,
"Off, I say! off! off! she sent you here; she told you to speak so to me." Then gazing wildly at Johnny, he cried, "Those are her eyes, that is her face. I say, away! away! leave me! you torment me with the sight of that face! It's hers it's hers. Blood will have blood, and now you comes to git mine!" and the strong man fell prostrate upon the floor, in a paroxysm of agony. He foamed at the mouth, and rolled his great vacant eyes around the room in a wildness fearful to behold.
"Oh Lor'," said old Nace, who appeared in the doorway, "oh Lor', him's got a fit."
The ladies shrieked and screamed in a frightful manner. Young master was almost preternaturally calm. He and Miss Bradly (after Nace and Jake had placed master on the bed) rendered him every attention. Miss Bradly chafed his temples with camphor, and moistened the lips and palms of the hands with it. When he began to revive, he turned his face to the wall and wept like a child. Then he fell off into a quiet sleep.
Young master and Miss Bradly watched beside that restless sleeper long and faithfully. And from that night there grew up between them a fervent friendship, which endured to the last of their mortal days.