“From England,” Hazel answered, softly, “but he's a mulatto.”
“A what?” simultaneously.
“A mulatto. They're a kind of negro tribe.'
“Goodness gracious!”
“Gracious goodness!”
“Are the mulattoes wild and dangerous?” asked Milly, tremulously.
“Yes, I believe so; but then, of course, Flutters isn't so now. Civilization has changed him.”
The Marberrys looked at Hazel with admiration; these occasional big words of hers constituted one of her chief charms in their eyes.
“But the truth is,” Hazel continued, “I do not know very much about Flutters. He does not seem to like to talk about his history, and mother says I have no right to pry into it.”
“I shouldn't think anybody who had been wild and savage could speak such good English,” said Tilly, thoughtfully.