"Who tole you dat ar?" and Muggins' face was perfectly comical in its
bewilderment at what she deemed Alice's foreknowledge. "But dat's so,
dat is. I hear Aunt Chloe say so, and how't was right mean in Miss
'Lina. I hate Miss 'Lina! Phew-ew!" and Muggins' face screwed itself
into a look of such perfect disgust that Alice could not forbear
laughing outright.
"You should not hate any one, my child," she said, while Muggins
rejoined: "I can't help it--none of us can; she's so--mean--and so--so--you
mustn't never tell, 'case Aunt Chloe get my rags if you do--but she's so
low-flung, Claib say. She hain't any bizzens orderin' us around nuther,
and I will hate her!"
"But, Muggins, the Bible teaches us to love those who treat us badly,
who are mean, as you say."
"Who's he?" and Muggins looked up quickly. "I never hearn tell of him
afore, or, yes I has. Thar's an old wared-out book in Mas'r Hugh's
chest, what he reads in every night, and oncet when I axes him what was
it, he say, 'It's a Bible, Mug.' Dat's what he calls me for short; Mug!"
"Well," Alice said, "be a good girl, Muggins. God will love you if you
do. Do you ever pray?"
"More times I do, and more times when I'se sleepy I don't," was Muggins'
reply.
Here was a spot where Alice might do good; this half-heathen, but
sprightly, African child needed her, and she began already to get an
inkling of her mission to Kentucky. She was pleased with Muggins, and
suffered the little dusky hands to caress her curls as long as they
pleased, while she questioned her of the bookcase and its contents,
whose was it, 'Lina's or Hugh's?
"Mas'r Hugh's, in course. Miss 'Lina can't read!" was Muggins' reply,
which Alice fully understood.
'Lina was no reader, while Hugh was, it might be, and she continued to
speak of him. Did he read much, ever evenings to his mother, or did
'Lina play often to them?"
"More'n we wants, a heap!" and Muggins spoke scornfully. "We can't bar
them rang-tang-em-er-digs she thumps out. Now, we likes Mas'r Hugh's the
best--got good voice, sing Dixie, oh, splendid! Mas'r Hugh loves
flowers, too. Tend all them in the garden."
"Did he?" and Alice spoke with great animation, for she had supposed
that 'Lina's, or at least Mrs. Worthington's hands had been there.
But it was Hugh, all Hugh, and in spite of what Muggins had said
concerning his aversion to her coming there, she felt a great desire to
see him. She could understand in part why he should be angry at not
having been consulted, but he was over that, she was sure from what Aunt
Eunice said, and if he were not, it behooved her to try her best to
remove any wrong impression he might have formed of her. "He shall like
me," she thought; "not as he must like that golden-haired maiden whose
existence this sprite of a negro has discovered, but as a friend, or
sister," and a softer light shone in Alice's blue eyes, as she foresaw
in fancy Hugh gradually coming to like her, to be glad that she was
there, and to miss her when she was gone.