to go out of the cave, Frank?" asked Ernest.

"Where?" asked the little boy.

"Into the bright sunshine, out on the green grass, and under the
trees."

"Yes; I think I should like it," answered Frank, thoughtfully. "But
papa does not want me to go. I don't know why. Do many little boys
live in caves like me?"

"No; I don't think so."

"Can they walk about in the sunshine, and play?"

"I always did."

"Do you like it better than living here?"

"Yes."

"Then what made you come here?"

This was an embarrassing question, and Ernest felt that he must be
careful in answering. "Your papa wanted me to make you a visit," he
replied after a pause.

"And I am glad you came. It isn't so lonely for me. Before, I had only
Juba."

"Wouldn't she play with you?" asked Ernest with a smile.

Frank laughed merrily.

"Juba is too old to play. I hope you will stay with me a good while."

Ernest could not echo this wish, so he answered evasively,

"I can't tell yet how long I shall stay. But the time will come when
you will leave the cave and live like other little boys in a house."

"Did papa tell you that?"

"He told me that he should send you to school before long."

"What is a school like?" asked the little boy anxiously.

Few boys of ten would have been obliged to put this question, but
Frank had been secluded from the world ever since he was a baby.

"There will be a good many boys, some older, some younger, than
yourself. You will study lessons together, and play together."

"I think that will be nice."

"Yes; I am sure you will enjoy it."

"Did you ever go to school?"

"Oh, yes; I went to school for some years. I wish I could go again."

"Perhaps you will go to school with me."

"I can't tell," answered Ernest, vaguely. "Perhaps Juba will go to
school with you."

Frank laughed.

"She would look funny going to school," he said.

"What's dat you sayin' 'bout Juba, Massa Ernest?" asked the old woman,
entering the room.

"I told Frank you might go to school with him."

"Maybe I'd go and take care of him, honey."

"But you wouldn't want to study."

"I wouldn't study nohow. I's a poor, ignorant nigger. Never shall know
nuffin', I expect."

"Don't you think you could learn to read, Juba?"

"No, I couldn't. It takes white folks to read."

"No, Juba; when I went to school there was a colored boy in my class,
and he was one of the smartest scholars we had."

"And was he a nigger?" asked Juba,