Old Mrs Prescott, who still lived, shared with her son and daughter the pleasure of Abe’s return, and the young Randolphs listened with delight to such an interesting romance. And yet—truth compels me to confess that the eldest daughter gave more than one uneasy glance into the street, and was literally sitting on thorns. What if a morning caller should find a negro in the Randolph parlour? Even kind Mrs Randolph had a feeling of uneasiness as the early dinner-hour approached. But the master guessed at no such embarrassments. The hour came; the bell rang, and as easily and cordially Major Randolph said: ‘You will come to dinner with us, Abe.’
‘After you and the family, Marse Dick.’
‘With me and the family,’ replied Major Randolph.
And though Abe earnestly begged to be allowed to wait, into the dining-room he went. And I may add, that had the most curious or mischievous eyes been on the watch for solecisms of any kind, they would have been disappointed.
‘What would you have had me do?’ said Major Randolph afterwards. ‘There was Abe, dying to lavish on his old master all he possessed. Was I to be outdone in hospitality by my own old slave?’
‘And Abe had just as much delicacy as papa,’ owned Miss Randolph, who felt she could afford to praise when the critical period was safely over—a merciful providence having kept away visitors. ‘He spoke just as good English as we do. But did you notice that, though he spoke of Mr Hartley and Mr everybody else, he always called papa “Marse Dick?”’
Before Abe left town, he had put a little bit of business in Mr Randolph’s hands—no other than the settlement of a mortgage that threatened to ruin Mrs Hartley and her children. ‘O Marse Dick!’ he said, ‘I have been keeping away till I was rich enough to buy that man up; and then I meant to meet him face to face and ask him what he thought of himself. I doubt if I could have kept my hands off him; and now he is gone. I hope the good Lord will forgive me!’
Were I writing a romance, I might tell how Abe made his old master’s fortune. But I have given you a poor idea of Major Randolph if I have led you to imagine he would allow himself to profit by his old servant’s prosperity in the smallest degree. If Abe told him of a good investment, he had no money. If a loan was modestly and hesitatingly offered, on the plea that Abe wished to place money at interest, and that there were so few whom he could trust, it was kindly but decidedly refused. And so Abe grows richer, and Major Randolph poorer than ever. The old-time slaves, with many misty ideas on the subject of religion, had one article of belief which they understood clearly, and for which they would have suffered martyrdom—namely, that in the next world it would be their turn to sit at table and eat the good things, while the proud white folks should ‘grease de griddle and turn de cakes.’ The doctrine is founded on the principle of compensation, but the compensation in some cases begins here.