rs came in floods. "Oh, papa," she sobbed, "to
think that my people, my poor people, should be so served. It must never,
never be again!"

"No," he said, "we will find means to prevent it. There, you feel better
now, do you not?"

"Yes, sir. Papa dear, welcome, welcome to my house; the dearest guest
that could come to it." And wiping away her tears, she lifted her loving
eyes to his, a tender smile playing about the sweet lips.

"Save one," he answered half-playfully, passing his hand caressingly over
her hair, and bending down to press his lips on brow, and cheeks, and
mouth. "Is not that so?"

"No, my own dear father, save none," with a charming blush, but eyes
looking steadily into his; "when he comes, it shall be as master, not
guest. But now tell me, please, what can I do with this Spriggs? I should
like to pay him a month's wages in advance, and start him off early
to-morrow morning."

Mr. Dinsmore shook his head gravely. "It would not do, my child. The
sugar-making season will shortly begin; he understands the business
thoroughly; we could not supply his place at a moment's notice, or
probably in a number of months, and the whole crop would be lost. We must
not be hasty or rash, but remember the Bible command, 'Let your moderation
be known unto all men.' Nor should we allow ourselves to judge the man too
hardly."

"Too hardly, papa! too hardly, when he has shown himself so cruel! But I
beg pardon for interrupting you."

"Yes, too hardly, daughter. He is a New Englander, used to see every one
about him working with steady, persevering industry, and the indolent,
dawdling ways of the blacks, which we take as a matter of course, are
exceedingly trying to him. I think he has been very faithful to your
interests, and that probably his desire and determination to see them
advanced to the utmost, led, more than anything else, to the act which
seems to us so cruel."

"And could he suppose that I would have blood wrung from my poor people
that a few more dollars might find their way into my purse?" she cried in
indignant sorrow and anger. "Oh, papa, I am not so cruel, you know I am
not."

"Yes, my darling, I know you have a very tender, loving heart."

"But what shall I do with Spriggs?"

"For to-night, express your sentiments and feelings on the subject as
calmly and moderately as you can, and enjoin it upon him to act in
accordance with them. Then we may consider at our leisure what further
measures can b