“No! I have just told you I did not know where she was. Nab has her hid somewhere, I suppose. Oh, dear! I did not think it would come to this; that my own husband would treat me so.” Then came fast flowing tears, which no one but Mary seemed to notice. Jane crept into Aunt Abby’s room; Mr. Bellmont and James went out of doors, and Mary remained to condole with her parent.
“Do you know where Frado is?” asked Jane of her aunt.
“No,” she replied. “I have hunted everywhere. She has left her first hiding-place. I cannot think what has become of her. There comes Jack and Fido; perhaps he knows;” and she walked to a window near, where James and his father were conversing together.
The two brothers exchanged a hearty greeting, and then Mr. Bellmont told Jack to eat his supper; afterward he wished to send him away. He immediately went in. Accustomed to all the phases of indoor storms, from a whine to thunder and lightning, he saw at a glance marks of disturbance. He had been absent through the day, with the hired men.
“What’s the fuss?” asked he, rushing into Aunt Abby’s.
“Eat your supper,” said Jane; “go home, Jack.”
Back again through the dining-room, and out to his father.
“What’s the fuss?” again inquired he of his father.
“Eat your supper, Jack, and see if you can find Frado. She’s not been seen since morning, and then she was kicked out of the house.”
“I shan’t eat my supper till I find her,” said Jack, indignantly. “Come, James, and see the little creature mother treats so.”
They started, calling, searching, coaxing, all their way along. No Frado. They returned to the house to consult. James and Jack declared they would not sleep till she was found.
Mrs. Bellmont attempted to dissuade them from the search. “It was a shame a little nigger should make so much trouble.”
Just then Fido came running up, and Jack exclaimed, “Fido knows where she is, I’ll bet.”
“So I believe,” said his father; “but we shall not be wiser unless we can outwit him. He will not do what his mistress forbids him.”
“I know how to fix him,” said Jack. Taking a plate from the table, which was still waiting, he called, “Fido! Fido! Frado wants some supper. Come!” Jack started, the dog followed, and soon capered on before, far, far into the fields, over walls and through fences, into a piece of swampy land. Jack followed close, and soon appeared to James, who was quite in the rear, coaxing and forcing Frado along with him.
A frail child, driven from shelter by the cruelty of his mother, was an object of interest to James. They persuaded her to go home with them, warmed her by the kitchen fire, gave her a good supper, and took her with them into the sitting-room.
“Take that nigger out of my sight,” was Mrs. Bellmont’s command, before they could be seated.
James led her into Aunt Abby’s, where he knew they were welcome. They chatted awhile until Frado seemed cheerful; then James led her to her room, and waited until she retired.
“Are you glad I’ve come home?” asked James.
“Yes; if you won’t let me be whipped tomorrow.”
“You won’t be whipped. You must try to be a good girl,” counselled James.
“If I do, I get whipped,” sobbed the child. “They won’t believe what I say. Oh, I wish I had my mother back; then I should not be kicked and whipped so. Who made me so?”
“God;” answered James.
“Did God make you?”
“Yes.”
“Who made Aunt Abby?”
“God.”
“Who made your mother?”
“God.”
“Did the same God that made her make me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, I don’t like him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he made her white, and me black. Why didn’t he make us both white?”
“I don’t know; try to go to sleep, and you will feel better in the morning,” was all the reply he could make to her knotty queries. It was a long time before she fell asleep; and a number of days before James felt in a mood to visit and entertain old associates and friends.
V
Departures
Life is a strange avenue of various trees and flowers;
Tupper.
Lightsome at commencement, but darkening to its end in a distant, massy portal.
It beginneth as a little path, edged with the violet and primrose,
A little path of lawny grass and soft to tiny feet.
Soon, spring thistles in the way.
James’ visit concluded. Frado had become greatly attached to him, and with sorrow she listened and joined in the farewells which preceded his exit. The remembrance of his kindness cheered her through many a weary month, and an occasional word to her in letters to Jack, were like “cold waters to a thirsty soul.” Intelligence came that James would soon marry; Frado hoped he would, and remove her from such severe treatment as she was subject to. There had been additional burdens laid on her since his return. She must now milk the cows, she had then only to drive. Flocks of sheep had been added to the farm, which daily claimed a portion of her time. In the absence of the men, she must harness the horse for Mary and her mother to ride, go to mill, in short, do the work of a boy, could one be procured to endure the tirades of Mrs. Bellmont. She was first up in the morning, doing what she could towards breakfast. Occasionally, she would utter some funny thing for Jack’s benefit, while she was waiting on the table, provoking a sharp look from his mother, or expulsion from the room.
On one such occasion, they found her on the roof of the barn. Some repairs having been necessary, a staging had been erected, and was not wholly
