Mr. Grabguy evinces an off-handedness in trade that is quite equal to Graspum’s keen tact.  But Graspum has the faculty of preserving a disinterested appearance singularly at variance with his object.

A messenger is despatched, receipt in hand, for the boy Nicholas.  Mrs. Tuttlewell, a brusque body of some sixty years, and with thirteen in a family, having had three husbands (all gentlemen of the highest standing, and connected with first families), keeps a stylish boarding-house, exclusively for the aristocracy, common people not being competent to her style of living; and as nobody could ever say one word against the Tuttlewell family, the present head of the Tuttlewell house has become very fashionably distinguished.  The messenger’s arrival is made known to Mrs. Tuttlewell, who must duly consider the nature of the immediate demand.  She had reason to expect the services of the children would have been at her command for some years to come.  However, she must make the very best of it; they are Graspum’s property, and he can do what he pleases with them.  She suggests, with great politeness, that the messenger take a seat in the lower veranda.  Her house is located in a most fashionable street, and none knew better than good lady Tuttlewell herself the value of living up to a fashionable nicety; for, where slavery exists, it is a trade to live.

Both children have been “waiting on table,” and, on hearing the summons, repair to their cabin in the yard.  Mrs. Tuttlewell, reconsidering her former decision, thinks the messenger better follow them, seeing that he is a nigger with kindly looks.  “Uncle!” says Annette, looking up at the old Negro, as he joins them:  “Don’t you want me too?”

“No,” returns the man, coolly shaking his head.

“I think they must be going to take us back to the old plantation, where Daddy Bob used to sing so.  Then I shall see mother-how I do want to see her!” she exclaims, her little heart bounding with ecstasy.  Three years or more have passed since she prattled on her mother’s knee.

The negro recognizes the child’s simplicity.  “I on’e wants dat child; but da’h an’t gwine t’ lef ye out on da plantation, nohow!” he says.

“Not going to take us home!” she says, with a sigh.  Nicholas moodily submits himself to be prepared, as Annette, more vivacious, keeps interposing with various enquiries.  She would like to know where they are going to take little Nicholas; and when they will let her go and see Daddy Bob and mother?  “Now, you can take me; I know you can!” she says, looking up at the messenger, and taking his hand pertly.

“No-can’t, little ‘un!  Mus’ lef’ ’um fo’h nuder time.  You isn’t broder and sister-is ye?”

“No!” quickly replies the little girl, swinging his hand playfully; “but I want to go where he goes; I want to see mother when he does.”

“Well, den, little ’un (the negro sees he cannot overcome the child’s simplicity by any other means), dis child will come fo’h ’um to-morrow-dat I will!”