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THE next morning after these conversations, Mrs.
Blumenthal, who was as yet unconscious of the secret
they had revealed, was singing in the garden, while she
gathered some flowers for her vases. Mr. Bright, who was
cutting up weeds, stopped and listened keeping time on the
handle of his hoe. When Flora came up to him, she
glanced at the motion of his fingers and smiled. “Can't
help it, ma'am,” said he. “When I hear your voice, it's
as much as ever I can do to keep from dancing; but if I
should do that, I should shock my neighbor the Deacon.
Did you see the stage stop there, last night? They've
got visitors from Carolina,—his daughter, and her husband
and children. I reckon I stirred him up yesterday. He
came to my shop to pay for some shoeing he'd had done.
So I invited him to attend our anti-slavery meeting to-morrow
evening. He took it as an insult, and said he
didn't need to be instructed by such sort of men as spoke
at our meetings. `I know some of us are what they call
mudsills down South,' said I; `but it might do you good to
go and hear'em, Deacon. When a man's lamp's out, it's
better to light it by the kitchen fire than to go blundering
about in the dark, hitting himself against everything.' He
said we should find it very convenient if we had slaves
here; for Northern women were mere beasts of burden.
I told him that was better than to be beasts of prey. I
thought afterward I wasn't very polite. I don't mean to
go headlong against other folks' prejudices; but the fact is,

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a man never knows with what impetus he is going till he
comes up against a post. I like to see a man firm as a
rock in his opinions. I have a sort of a respect for a rock,
even if it is a little mossy. But when I come across a
post, I like to give it a shaking, to find out whether it's
rotten at the foundation. As to things in general, I calculate
to be an obliging neighbor; but I shall keep a lookout
on these Carolina folks. If they've brought any blacks
with'em, I shall let'em know what the laws of Massachusetts
are; and then they may take their freedom or not,
just as they choose.”

“That's right,” replied Mrs. Blumenthal; “and when
you and the Deacon have another encounter, I hope I shall
be near enough to hear it.”

As she walked away, tying up her bouquet with a spear
of striped grass, she heard him whistling the tune she had
been singing. When she returned to the parlor, she seated
herself near the open window, with a handkerchief, on which
she was embroidering Mrs. Delano's initials. Mr. Bright's
remarks had somewhat excited her curiosity, and from time
to time she glanced toward Deacon Stillham's grounds. A
hawthorn hedge, neatly clipped, separated the two gardens;
but here and there the foliage had died away and left small
open spaces. All at once, a pretty little curly head appeared
at one of these leafy lunettes, and an infantile voice called
out, “You're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht!”

“Do come here, Mamita Lila, and see this little darling,”
said Flora, laughing.

For a moment she was invisible. Then the cherub face
came peeping out again; and this time the little mouth was
laughing, when it repeated, “You're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht.”

“Isn't it amusing to hear such an infant trying to abuse

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us with a big mouthful of a word, to which she attaches no
meaning?” said Mrs. Delano.

Flora beckoned with her hand, and called out, “Come
in and see the Bobolithonithts, darling.” The little creature
laughed and ran away. At that moment, a bright turban
was seen moving along above the bushes. Then a
black face became visible. Flora sprang up with a quick
cry, and rushed out of the room, upsetting her basket, and
leaving balls and thimble rolling about the floor. Placing
her foot on a stump, she leaped over the hedge like an
opera-dancer, and the next moment she had the negro
woman in her arms, exclaiming: “Bless you, Tulee! You
are alive, after all!”

The black woman was startled and bewildered for an instant;
then she held her off at arm's length, and looked at
her with astonishment, saying: “Bless the Lord! Is it
you, Missy Flory? or is it a sperit? Well now, is it you,
little one?”

“Yes, Tulee; it is I,” she replied. “The same Missy
Flory that used to plague your life out with her tricks.”

The colored woman hugged and kissed, and hugged and
kissed, and laughed and cried; ever and anon exclaiming,
“Bless the Lord!”

Meanwhile, the playful cherub was peeping at Joe Bright
through another hole in the hedge, all unconscious how
pretty her little fair face looked in its frame of green
leaves, but delighted with her own sauciness, as she repeated,
“You're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht! you're a Bob-o-lith-o-nitht!”
When he tried to kiss her, she scampered away,
but soon reappeared again to renew the fun.

While this by-play was going on, a white servant came
through the Deacon's grounds, and said to Tulee, “Mrs.

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Robbem wants you to come to her immediately, and bring
Laura.”

“I must go now, darling,” said Tulee, clasping Flora's
hand with a warm pressure.

“Come again quickly,” said Flora.

“As soon as I can,” she replied, and hurried away with
her little charge.

When Mr. Bright offered his hand to help Mrs. Blumenthal
over the hedge, he burst into a hearty laugh. “Was n't
it funny,” said he, “to hear that baby calling us Bob-o-lith-o-nithts?
They begin education early down South. Before
the summer is out she'll be talking about the cuth o'
Ham, and telling the story of Onethimuth. But they've
found a mare's nest now, Mrs. Blumenthal. The Deacon
will be writing to his Carolina friends how the Massachusetts
ladies hug and kiss niggers.”

Flora smiled as she answered: “I suppose it must seem
strange to them, Mr. Bright. But the fact is, that black
woman tended me when I was a child; and I have n't
seen her for twenty years.”

As soon as she entered the house, she explained the
scene to Mrs. Delano, and then said to her daughter:
“Now, Rosen Blumen, you may leave your drawing and
go to Aunt Rosa, and tell her I want to see her for something
special, and she must come as soon as possible. Don't
tell her anything more. You may stay and spend the day
with Eulalia, if you like.”

“How many mysteries and surprises we have,” observed
Mrs. Delano. “A dozen novels might be made out of your
adventures.”

The hasty summons found Mrs. King still melancholy
with the thought that her newly found son could be no

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more to her than a shadow. Glad to have her thoughts
turned in another direction, she sent Rosen Blumen to her
cousin, and immediately prepared to join her sister. Flora,
who was watching for her, ran out to the gate to meet her,
and before she entered the house announced that Tulee
was alive. The little that was known was soon communicated,
and they watched with the greatest anxiety for the
reappearance of Tulee. But the bright turban was seen no
more during the forenoon; and throughout the afternoon
no one but the Deacon and his gardener were visible about
the grounds. The hours of waiting were spent by the sisters
and Mrs. Delano in a full explanation of the secret
history of Gerald Fitzgerald, and Mrs. King's consequent
depression of spirits. The evening wore away without any
tidings from Tulee. Between nine and ten o'clock they
heard the voice of the Deacon loud in prayer. Joe Bright,
who was passing the open window, stopped to say: “He
means his neighbors shall hear him, anyhow. I reckon he
thinks it's a good investment for character. He's a cute
manager, the Deacon is; and a quickster, too, according to
his own account; for he told me when he made up his
mind to have religion, he was n't half an hour about it.
I'd a mind to tell him I should think slave-trading religion
was a job done by contract, knocked up in a hurry.”

“Mr. Bright,” said Flora, in a low voice, “if you see
that colored woman, I wish you would speak to her, and
show her the way in.”

The sisters sat talking over their affairs with their husbands,
in low tones, listening anxiously meanwhile to every
sound. Mr. and Mrs. King were just saying they thought
it was best to return home, when Mr. Bright opened the
door and Tulee walked in. Of course, there was a general

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exclaiming and embracing. There was no need of introducing
the husbands, for Tulee remembered them both.
As soon as she could take breath, she said: “I've had such
a time to get here! I've been trying all day, and I could n't
get a chance, they kept such watch of me. At last, when
they was all abed and asleep, I crept down stairs softly,
and come out of the back door, and locked it after me.”

“Come right up stairs with me,” said Rosa. “I want to
speak to you.” As soon as they were alone, she said,
“Tulee, where is the baby?”

“Don't know no more than the dead what's become of
the poor little picaninny,” she replied. “After ye went
away, Missy Duroy's cousin, who was a sea-captain, brought
his baby with a black nurse to board there, because his
wife had died. I remember how ye looked at me when ye
said, `Take good care of the poor little baby.' And I did
try to take good care of him. I toted him about a bit out
doors whenever I could get a chance. One day, just as I
was going back into the house, a gentleman o' horseback
turned and looked at me. I did n't think anything about
it then; but the next day, he come to the house, and he
said I was Mr. Royal's slave, and that Mr. Fitzgerald
bought me. He wanted to know where ye was; and when
I told him ye'd gone over the sea with Madame and the
Signor, he cursed and swore, and said he'd been cheated.
When he went away, Missis Duroy said it was Mr. Bruteman.
I did n't think there was much to be 'fraid of, 'cause
ye'd got away safe, and I had free papers, and the picaninny
was too small to be sold. But I remembered ye
was always anxious about his being a slave, and I was a
little uneasy. One day when the sea-captain came to see
his baby, he was marking an anchor on his own arm with

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a needle and some sort of black stuff; and he said 't would
never come out. I thought if they should carry off yer
picaninny, it would be more easy to find him again if he
was marked. I told the captain I had heard ye call him
Gerald; and he said he would mark G. F. on his arm.
The poor little thing worried in his sleep while he was doing
it, and Missis Duroy scolded at me for hurting him.
The next week Massa Duroy was taken with yellow-fever;
and then Missis Duroy was taken, and then the captain's
baby and the black nurse. I was frighted, and tried to
keep the picaninny out doors all I could. One day, when
I'd gone a bit from the house, two men grabbed us and put
us in a cart. When I screamed, they beat me, and swore
at me for a runaway nigger. When I said I was free, they
beat me more, and told me to shut up. They put us in the
calaboose; and when I told 'em the picaninny belonged to
a white lady, they laughed and said there was a great many
white niggers. Mr. Bruteman come to see us, and he said
we was his niggers. When I showed him my free paper,
he said 't want good for anything, and tore it to pieces. O
Missy Rosy, that was a dreadful dark time. The jailer's
wife didn't seem so hard-hearted as the rest. I showed her
the mark on the picaninny's arm, and gave her one of the
little shirts ye embroidered; and I told her if they sold me
away from him, a white lady would send for him. They
did sell me, Missy Rosy. Mr. Robbem, a Caroliny slave-trader
bought me, and he's my massa now. I don't know
what they did with the picaninny. I didn't know how to
write, and I didn't know where ye was. I was always
hoping ye would come for me some time; and at last I
thought ye must be dead.”

“Poor Tulee,” said Rosa. “They wrote that Mr. and

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Mrs. Duroy and the black woman and the white baby all
died of yellow-fever; and we didn't know there was any
other black woman there. I've sent to New Orleans, and
I've been there; and many a cry I've had, because we
couldn't find you. But your troubles are all over now.
You shall come and live with us.”

“But I'm Mr. Robbem's slave,” replied Tulee.

“No, you are not,” answered Rosa. “You became free
the moment they brought you to Massachusetts.”

“Is it really so?” said Tulee, brightening up in look
and tone. Then, with a sudden sadness, she added: “I've
got three chil'ren in Carolina. They've sold two on 'em;
but they've left me my little Benny, eight years old.
They would n't have brought me here, if they hadn't
known Benny would pull me back.”

“We'll buy your children,” said Rosa.

“Bless ye, Missy Rosy!” she exclaimed. “Ye's got
the same kind heart ye always had. How glad I am to see
ye all so happy!”

“O Tulee!” groaned Rosa, “I can never be happy till
that poor little baby is found. I've no doubt that wicked
Bruteman sold him.” She covered her face with her
hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers.

“The Lord comfort ye!” said Tulee, “I did all I could
for yer poor little picaninny.”

“I know you did, Tulee,” she replied. “But I am so
sorry Madame didn't take you with us! When she told
me she had left you, I was afraid something bad would
happen; and I would have gone back for you if I could.
But it is too late to talk any more now. Mr. King is waiting
for me to go home. Why can't you go with us to-night?”

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“I must go back,” rejoined Tulee. “I've got the key
with me, and I left the picaninny asleep in my bed. I'll
come again to-morrow night, if I can.”

“Don't say if you can, Tulee,” replied Mrs. King. “Remember
you are not a slave here. You can walk away at
mid-day, and tell them you are going to live with us.”

“They'd lock me up and send me back to Caroliny, if I
told 'em so,” said Tulee. “But I'll come, Missy Rosy.”

Rosa kissed the dark cheek she had so often kissed when
they were children together, and they parted for the night.

The next day and the next night passed without a visit
from Tulee. Mr. and Mrs. Bright, who entered into the
affair with the liveliest interest, expressed the opinion that
she had been spirited away and sent South. The sisters
began to entertain a similar fear; and it was decided that
their husbands should call with them the following morning,
to have a talk with Mr. and Mrs. Robbem. But not
long after breakfast, Tulee stole into the back door with the
cherub in her arms.

“O Missy Flory,” said she, “I tried to get here last
night. But Missis Robbem takes a heap o' care o' me.”
She said this with a mischievous smile. “When we was at
the Astor House, she locked up my clothes in her room,'
cause New York was such a dreadful wicked place, she
was 'fraid they'd be stole; and she never let me out o' her
sight, for fear the colored waiters in the hotel would be impudent
to me. Last night she sent me away up into the
cupola to sleep, 'cause she said I could have more room
there. And when I'd got the picaninny asleep, and was
watching for a chance to steal away, she come all the way
up there very softly, and said she'd brought me some hot
drink, 'cause I didn't seem to be well. Then she begun to

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advise me not to go near the next house. She told me
Abolitionists was very bad people; that they pretended to
be great friends to colored folks, but all they wanted was
to steal 'em and sell 'em to the West Indies. I told her I
didn't know nothing 'bout Abolitionists; that the lady I
was hugging and kissing was a New Orleans lady that
I used to wait upon when we was picaninnies. She said
if you had the feelings Southern ladies ought to have, you
wouldn't be boarding with Abolitionists. When she went
down stairs I didn't dare to come here, for fear she'd come
up again with some more hot drink. This morning she
told me to walk up street with the picaninny; and she
watched me till I was out o' sight. But I went round and
round and got over a fence, and come through Massa
Bright's barn.”

Mr. and Mrs. King came in as she was speaking; and
she turned to them, saying anxiously, “Do you think,
Massa, if I don't go back with 'em, they 'll let me have my
chil'ren?”

“Don't call me Massa,” replied Mr. King, “I dislike the
sound of it. Speak to me as other people do. I have no
doubt we shall manage it so that you will have your children.
I will lead home this pretty little Tot, and tell them
you are going to stay with us.”

With bonbons and funny talk he gained the favor of
Tot, so that she consented to walk with him. Tulee often
applied her apron to her eyes, as she watched the little
creature holding by his finger, and stepping along in childish
fashion, turning her toes inward. When she disappeared
through the Deacon's front door, she sat down and
cried outright. “I love that little picaninny,” sobbed she.
“I've tended her ever since she was born; and I love her.

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She 'll cry for Tulee. But I does want to be free, and I
does want to live with ye, Missy Rosy and Missy Flory.”

Mrs. Robbem met Mr. King as soon as he entered her
father's door, and said in a tone of stern surprise, “Where
is my servant, sir?”

He bowed and answered, “If you will allow me to walk
in for a few moments, I will explain my errand.” As soon
as they were seated he said: “I came to inform you that
Tulee does not wish to go back to Carolina; and that by
the laws of Massachusetts she has a perfect right to remain
here.”

“She's an ungrateful wench!” exclaimed Mrs. Robbem.
“She's always been treated kindly, and she wouldn't have
thought of taking such a step, if she hadn't been put up to
it by meddlesome Abolitionists, who are always interfering
with gentlemen's servants.”

“The simple fact is,” rejoined Mr. King, “Tulee used
to be the playmate and attendant of my wife when both of
them were children. They lived together many years, and
are strongly attached to each other.”

“If your wife is a Southern lady,” replied Mrs. Robbem,
“she ought to be above such a mean Yankee trick as stealing
my servant from me.”

Her husband entered at that moment, and the visitor
rose and bowed as he said, “Mr. Robbem, I presume.”

He lowered his head somewhat stiffly in reply; and his
wife hastened to say, “The Abolitionists have been decoying
Tulee away from us.”

Mr. King repeated the explanation he had already made.

“I thought the wench had more feeling,” replied Mr.
Robbem. “She left children in Carolina. But the fact
is, niggers have no more feeling for their young than so
many pigs.”

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“I judge differently,” rejoined Mr. King; “and my
principal motive for calling was to speak to you about those
children. I wish to purchase them for Tulee.”

“She shall never have them, sir.” exclaimed the slave-trader,
fiercely. “And as for you Abolitionists, all I wish
is that we had you down South.”

“Differences of opinion must be allowed in a free country,”
replied Mr. King. “I consider slavery a bad institution,
injurious to the South, and to the whole country.
But I did not come here to discuss that subject. I simply
wish to make a plain business statement to you. Tulee
chooses to take her freedom, and any court in Massachusetts
will decide that she has a right to take it. But, out
of gratitude for services she has rendered my wife, I am
willing to make you gratuitous compensation, provided you
will enable me to buy all her children. Will you name
your terms now, or shall I call again?”

“She shall never have her children.” repeated Mr. Robbem;
“she has nobody but herself and the Abolitionists to
blame for it.”

“I will, however, call again, after you have thought of
it more calmly,” said Mr. King. “Good morning, sir;
good morning, madam.”

His salutations were silently returned with cold, stiff bows.

A second and third attempt was made with no better
success. Tulee grew very uneasy. “They 'll sell my
Benny,” said she. “Ye see they ain't got any heart, 'cause
they's used to selling picaninnies.”

“What, does this Mr. Robbem carry on the Deacon's old
business?” inquired Mr. Bright.

“Yes, Massa,” replied Tulee. “Two years ago, Massa
Stillham come down to Caroliny to spend the winter, and

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he was round in the slave-pen as brisk as Massa Robbem,
counting the niggers, and telling how many dollars they
ought to sell for. He had a dreadful bad fever while he
was down there, and I nursed him. He was out of his
head half the time, and he was calling out: `Going! going!
How much for this likely nigger? Stop that wench's squalling
for her brat! Carry the brat off!' It was dreadful to
hear him.”

“I suppose he calculated upon going to heaven if he
died,” rejoined Mr. Bright; “and if he'd gone into the
kingdom with such words in his mouth, it would have been
a heavenly song for the four-and-twenty elders to accompany
with their golden harps.”

“They 'll sell my Benny,” groaned Tulee; “and then I
shall never see him again.”

“I have no doubt Mr. King will obtain your children,”
replied Mr. Bright; “and you should remember that, if you
go back South, just as likely as not they will sell him where
you will never see him or hear from him.”

“I know it, Massa, I know it,” answered she.

“I am not your master,” rejoined he. “I allow no man
to call me master, and certainly not any woman; though I
don't belong to the chivalry.”

His prediction proved true. The Deacon and his son-in-law
held frequent consultations. “This Mr. King is rich
as Crœsus,” said the Deacon; “and if he thinks his wife
owes a debt to Tulee, he 'll be willing to give a round sum
for her children. I reckon you can make a better bargain
with him than you could in the New Orleans market.”

“Do you suppose he'd give five thousand dollars for the
young niggers?” inquired the trader.

“Try him,” said the Deacon.

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The final result was that the sum was deposited by Mr.
King, to be paid over whenever Tulee's children made
their appearance; and in due time they all arrived. Tulee
was full of joy and gratitude; but Mr. Bright always maintained
it was a sin and a shame to pay slave-traders so
much for what never belonged to them.

Of course there were endless questions to be asked and
answered between the sisters and their faithful servant;
but all she could tell threw no further light on the destiny
of the little changeling whom she supposed to be Rosa's
own child. In the course of these private conversations,
it came out that she herself had suffered, as all women must
suffer, who have the feelings of human beings, and the
treatment of animals. But her own humble little episode
of love and separation, of sorrow and shame, was whispered
only to Missy Rosy and Missy Flory.

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