Indeed, he was beginning to despair of ever again seeing either the one or the other, and it required the utmost energy and the most original suggestions of a hopeful nature on the part of his faithful friend to prevent his giving way altogether, and having, as Peter expressed it, “anoder fit ob de blues.”
At last fortune favoured him. He was busy in the garden one day planting flowers, when Peter came to him and said—
“I’s got news for you to-day, Geo’ge.”
“Indeed,” said the middy, with a weary sigh; “what may your news be?”
“You ’member dat pictur’ ob de coffee-house in de town what you doo’d?”
“Yes, now you mention it, I do, though I had almost forgotten it.”
“Ah! but I not forgit ’im! Well, yesterday I tuk it to massa, an’ he bery much pleased. He say, bring you up to de house, an’ he gib you some work to do.”
“I wish,” returned Foster, “that he’d ask me to make a portrait of little Hester Sommers.”
“You forgit, Geo’ge, de Moors neber git deir portraits doo’d. Dey ’fraid ob de evil eye.”
“Well, when are we to go up?”