CHAPTER XVI.
MARY HARRIS.
I think we must all have dreamed of the lovely face over among the pillows in Mr. Goodwin's west room, for we were hardly seated at the breakfast table ere Ben said:
"Wonder how that pretty girl is this morning?"
"She was better when we left last night," said mother, "I thought she appeared as if ready for a comfortable night; but shall hear soon if she is better, Aunt Hildy will be home, and if not, Matthias will be over."
"Wish I could see her—will she go right away?"
"That I do not know," said mother, "we have yet to learn her history. Mrs. Goodwin wanted Matthias to come over to-day, for after you left, Emily, she called for 'Peter, colored Peter,' looking as if expecting to find him. Matthias came into the room and brought some wood, while she was awake, and when she saw him, she said, 'Oh, Peter! stay till I get rested—I want to tell you.' He dropped his wood heavily, it gave him such a start. He says no one ever called him that except some young people down in Carolina, and it seems he named himself Peter, to their great amusement, telling them that he 'cakilated to treat his old Mas'r just as Peter treated de good Jesus.'"
"Why, can it be possible he knows her?" I said.
"He thinks not," said mother, "but this calling him Peter is singular enough."
"It seems very strange, and hardly possible she can have come so far," said father. Louis' eyes as well as my own had been covertly scanning Mr. Benton, and he was ill at ease. At the name of Peter his face grew pale and his hand trembled; no one else noticing it, he rallied, but made no remark whatever. Afterward Louis said to him: