“Yes, I will, Uncle Tom,” said George seriously.

“And be careful of yer speaking, Mas’r George.  Young boys, when they comes to your age, is wilful, sometimes—­it is natur they should be.  But real gentlemen, such as I hopes you’ll be, never lets fall on words that isn’t ’spectful to thar parents.  Ye an’t ’fended, Mas’r George?”

“No, indeed, Uncle Tom; you always did give me good advice.”

“I’s older, ye know,” said Tom, stroking the boy’s fine, curly head with his large, strong hand, but speaking in a voice as tender as a woman’s, “and I sees all that’s bound up in you.  O, Mas’r George, you has everything,—­l’arnin’, privileges, readin’, writin’,—­and you’ll grow up to be a great, learned, good man and all the people on the place and your mother and father’ll be so proud on ye!  Be a good Mas’r, like yer father; and be a Christian, like yer mother.  ’Member yer Creator in the days o’ yer youth, Mas’r George.”

“I’ll be real good, Uncle Tom, I tell you,” said George.  “I’m going to be a first-rater; and don’t you be discouraged.  I’ll have you back to the place, yet.  As I told Aunt Chloe this morning, I’ll build our house all over, and you shall have a room for a parlor with a carpet on it, when I’m a man.  O, you’ll have good times yet!”

Haley now came to the door, with the handcuffs in his hands.

“Look here, now, Mister,” said George, with an air of great superiority, as he got out, “I shall let father and mother know how you treat Uncle Tom!”

“You’re welcome,” said the trader.

“I should think you’d be ashamed to spend all your life buying men and women, and chaining them, like cattle!  I should think you’d feel mean!” said George.

“So long as your grand folks wants to buy men and women, I’m as good as they is,” said Haley; “‘tan’t any meaner sellin’ on ’em, that ’t is buyin’!”

“I’ll never do either, when I’m a man,” said George; “I’m ashamed, this day, that I’m a Kentuckian.  I always was proud of it before;” and George sat very straight on his horse, and looked round with an air, as if he expected the state would be impressed with his opinion.

“Well, good-by, Uncle Tom; keep a stiff upper lip,” said George.

“Good-by, Mas’r George,” said Tom, looking fondly and admiringly at him.  “God Almighty bless you!  Ah!  Kentucky han’t got many like you!” he said, in the fulness of his heart, as the frank, boyish face was lost to his view.  Away he went, and Tom looked, till the clatter of his horse’s heels died away, the last sound or sight of his home.  But over his heart there seemed to be a warm spot, where those young hands had placed that precious dollar.  Tom put up his hand, and held it close to his heart.