“Ob course I do, Geo’giana, but as your life—an’ p’r’aps mine, but dat ain’t much—depends on it, you’ll see de needcessity.”
“I will certainly try—for your sake as well as my own,” returned Hester fervently.
“Well, I t’ink you will, but it ain’t easy, an’ I’ll test you some day.”
It was more than a month after that before Peter the Great paid her another visit, and, to the poor girl’s grief, he still came without news of her father. He had been all over the Kasba, he said, and many other places where the slaves worked, but he meant to persevere. The city was big, and it would take time, but “Geo’giana” was to cheer up, for he would neber gib in.
One morning Peter announced to Foster that he was going into town to make purchases, and he wanted his assistance to carry the basket.
“Are we going to make another search for poor Mr Sommers?” asked the middy, as he walked along the road holding one handle of the empty basket.
“No, we’s got no time for dat to-day. I mus’ be back early. Got time on’y for one call on a friend ob mine. Das all.”
As the negro did not seem inclined for conversation, Foster forebore to trouble him, but observed, without remarking on the circumstance, that, instead of taking their accustomed way to the market-place, they passed along many narrow, steep, and intricate streets until they reached what the midshipman conceived to be the very heart of the city.
“Dis am de house ob my friend,” said Peter, stopping in front of an opening which descended into a cellar. “Foller me, Geo’ge, an’ bring down de baskit wid you. Hallo, Missis Lilly! Is you widin?”
“Hi! Das you, Peter de Great?” came in shrill tones from below as they descended.