Bad Hugh

"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.