Fido was the constant attendant of Frado, when sent from the house on errands, going and returning with the cows, out in the fields, to the village. If ever she forgot her hardships it was in his company.
Spring was now retiring. James, one of the absent sons, was expected home on a visit. He had never seen the last acquisition to the family. Jack had written faithfully of all the merits of his colored protégé, and hinted plainly that mother did not always treat her just right. Many were the preparations to make the visit pleasant, and as the day approached when he was to arrive, great exertions were made to cook the favorite viands, to prepare the choicest table-fare.
The morning of the arrival day was a busy one. Frado knew not who would be of so much importance; her feet were speeding hither and thither so unsparingly. Mrs. Bellmont seemed a trifle fatigued, and her shoes which had, early in the morning, a methodic squeak, altered to an irregular, peevish snap.
“Get some little wood to make the fire burn,” said Mrs. Bellmont, in a sharp tone. Frado obeyed, bringing the smallest she could find.
Mrs. Bellmont approached her, and, giving her a box on her ear, reiterated the command.
The first the child brought was the smallest to be found; of course, the second must be a trifle larger. She well knew it was, as she threw it into a box on the hearth. To Mrs. Bellmont it was a greater affront, as well as larger wood, so she “taught her” with the rawhide, and sent her the third time for “little wood.”
Nig, weeping, knew not what to do. She had carried the smallest; none left would suit her mistress; of course further punishment awaited her; so she gathered up whatever came first, and threw it down on the hearth. As she expected, Mrs. Bellmont, enraged, approached her, and kicked her so forcibly as to throw her upon the floor. Before she could rise, another foiled the attempt, and then followed kick after kick in quick succession and power, till she reached the door. Mr. Bellmont and Aunt Abby, hearing the noise, rushed in, just in time to see the last of the performance. Nig jumped up, and rushed from the house, out of sight.
Aunt Abby returned to her apartment, followed by John, who was muttering to himself.
“What were you saying?” asked Aunt Abby.
“I said I hoped the child never would come into the house again.”
“What would become of her? You cannot mean that,” continued his sister.
“I do mean it. The child does as much work as a woman ought to; and just see how she is kicked about!”
“Why do you have it so, John?” asked his sister.
“How am I to help it? Women rule the earth, and all in it.”
“I think I should rule my own house, John,”—
“And live in hell meantime,” added Mr. Bellmont.
John now sauntered out to the barn to await the quieting of the storm.
Aunt Abby had a glimpse of Nig as she passed out of the yard; but to arrest her, or show her that she would shelter her, in Mrs. Bellmont’s presence, would only bring reserved wrath on her defenceless head. Her sister-in-law had great prejudices against her. One cause of the alienation was that she did not give her right in the homestead to John, and leave it forever; another was that she was a professor of religion, (so was Mrs. Bellmont;) but Nab, as she called her, did not live according to her profession; another, that she would sometimes give Nig cake and pie, which she was never allowed to have at home. Mary had often noticed and spoken of her inconsistencies.
The dinner hour passed. Frado had not appeared. Mrs. B. made no inquiry or search. Aunt Abby looked long, and found her concealed in an outbuilding. “Come into the house with me,” implored Aunt Abby.
“I ain’t going in any more,” sobbed the child.
“What will you do?” asked Aunt Abby.
“I’ve got to stay out here and die. I ha’n’t got no mother, no home. I wish I was dead.”
“Poor thing,” muttered Aunt Abby; and slyly providing her with some dinner, left her to her grief.
Jane went to confer with her Aunt about the affair; and learned from her the retreat. She would gladly have concealed her in her own chamber, and ministered to her wants; but she was dependent on Mary and her mother for care, and any displeasure caused by attention to Nig, was seriously felt.
Toward night the coach brought James. A time of general greeting, inquiries for absent members of the family, a visit to Aunt Abby’s room, undoing a few delicacies for Jane, brought them to the tea hour.
“Where’s Frado?” asked Mr. Bellmont, observing she was not in her usual place, behind her mistress’ chair.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. If she makes her appearance again, I’ll take the skin from her body,” replied his wife.
James, a fine looking young man, with a pleasant countenance, placid, and yet decidedly serious, yet not stern, looked up confounded. He was no stranger to his mother’s nature; but years of absence had erased the occurrences once so familiar, and he asked, “Is this that pretty little Nig, Jack writes to me about, that you are so severe upon, mother?”
“I’ll not leave much of her beauty to be seen, if she comes in sight; and now, John,” said Mrs. B., turning to her husband, “you need not think you are going to learn her to treat me in this way; just see how saucy she was this morning. She shall learn her place.”
Mr. Bellmont raised his calm, determined eye full upon her, and said, in a decisive manner: “You shall not strike,
