It was the strong, sweet baritone of Harrington that sounded now. Roux looked up, smiling mournfully, into the masculine, calm features, which strangely comforted him.
“Yes, Roux, cheer up’s the word. ’Tan’t always goin’ to be slavery and slaveholders in this free and happy country, mind that, my man.”
Thus the Captain, shaking a fore-finger at the negro, and then cheerfully punching him in the ribs with it.
“An’ if I catch any kidnappers round this establishment, I’ll heave a brick at him,” screeched Tugmutton, in a rage, glaring with rolling eyes at everybody over the baby.
Emily, who had risen, and stood wiping her eyes with a cambric handkerchief, burst into laughter, in which Muriel and Harrington joined. Tugmutton looked awfully irate for an instant, and then grinned sheepishly.
“Come, come,” said Muriel, “we must be going. Where’s the basket? Oh, there it is on the floor. Mr. Roux,” she continued, stooping down to it, and unpacking, “I won’t go in again to your wife—by the way, I hope our talk has not disturbed her—but here are some baby-clothes which I wore myself when I was a baby—old things which I found yesterday, but they’ll do for the little boy. And here’s some nice beef and a pie, which my mother had cooked expressly for your dinner to-day. And here’s my copy of ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’ which you told me you hadn’t read. When you and your wife are done with it, Tugmutton, as you call him, can bring it up to the house, with the plates and napkins.”
The famous Uncle Tom had recently issued from the Boston press, and begun its illustrious journey through Christendom. Muriel handed the two volumes to Roux, who took them timidly, with a low bow, immensely gratified. The napkined meat and pie, she had already laid on the table, with the package of baby-clothes.
“And that’s all,” said Muriel, arranging the remaining contents of the basket under the fond eyes of Harrington. “The other things are for our Irish cousins in North Russell Street. You, John, shall carry the basket out to the carriage. Now let’s go.”
“Miss Eas’man,” said Roux, “I’m so much obliged”—