't know not'ing, missis."

"About Jesus?" said I again.

"'Clar, missis, dis nigger don't know not'ing, but de rice and de
corn. Missis talk to Darry; he most knowin' nigger on plantation;
knows a heap."

"There!" exclaimed Preston, "that will do. You go off to your supper,
George--and Daisy, you had better come on if you want anything
pleasant at home. What on earth have you got now by that? What is the
use? Of course they do not know anything; and why should they? They
have no time and no use for it."

"They have no time on Sundays?" I said.

"Time to sleep. That is what they do. That is the only thing a negro
cares about, to go to sleep in the sun. It's all nonsense, Daisy."

"They would care about something else, I dare say," I answered, "if
they could get it."

"Well, they can't get it. Now, Daisy, I want you to let these fellows
alone. You have nothing to do with them, and you did not come to
Magnolia for such work. You have nothing on earth to do with them."

I had my own thoughts on the subject, but Preston was not a sympathising
hearer. I said no more. The evergreen oaks about the house came presently
in sight; then the low verandah that ran round three sides of it; then we
came to the door, and my walk was over.

CHAPTER III.

THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE.

My life at Magnolia might be said to begin when I came downstairs that
evening. My aunt and Miss Pinshon were sitting in the parlour, in the
light of a glorious fire of light wood and oak sticks. Miss Pinshon
called me to her at once; inquired where I had been; informed me I
must not for the future take such diversion without her leave first
asked and obtained; and then put me to reading aloud, that she might
see how well I could do it. She gave me a philosophical article in a
magazine for my proof piece; it was full of long words that I did not
know and about matters that I did not understand. I read mechanically,
of course; trying with all my might to speak the long words right,
that there might be no room for correction; but Miss Pinshon's voice
interrupted me again and again. I felt cast away in a foreign land;
further and further from the home feeling every minute; and it seemed
besides as if the climate had some power of petrifaction. I could not
keep Medusa out of my head. It was a relief at last when the tea was
brought in. Miss Pinshon took the magazine out of my hand.

"She has a good voice, but she wants expression," was her re