a
man."

"There is no use in this shilly-shally way of yours, St. Clare!" said
Marie. "Cousin is a woman of sense, and she sees it now, as plain as I
do."

Miss Ophelia had just the capability of indignation that belongs to the
thorough-paced housekeeper, and this had been pretty actively roused
by the artifice and wastefulness of the child; in fact, many of my
lady readers must own that they should have felt just so in her
circumstances; but Marie's words went beyond her, and she felt less
heat.

"I wouldn't have the child treated so, for the world," she said; "but,
I am sure, Augustine, I don't know what to do. I've taught and taught;
I've talked till I'm tired; I've whipped her; I've punished her in every
way I can think of, and she's just what she was at first."

"Come here, Tops, you monkey!" said St. Clare, calling the child up to
him.

Topsy came up; her round, hard eyes glittering and blinking with a
mixture of apprehensiveness and their usual odd drollery.

"What makes you behave so?" said St. Clare, who could not help being
amused with the child's expression.

"Spects it's my wicked heart," said Topsy, demurely; "Miss Feely says
so."

"Don't you see how much Miss Ophelia has done for you? She says she has
done everything she can think of."

"Lor, yes, Mas'r! old Missis used to say so, too. She whipped me a heap
harder, and used to pull my har, and knock my head agin the door; but
it didn't do me no good! I spects, if they 's to pull every spire o' har
out o' my head, it wouldn't do no good, neither,--I 's so wicked! Laws!
I 's nothin but a nigger, no ways!"

"Well, I shall have to give her up," said Miss Ophelia; "I can't have
that trouble any longer."

"Well, I'd just like to ask one question," said St. Clare.

"What is it?"

"Why, if your Gospel is not strong enough to save one heathen child,
that you can have at home here, all to yourself, what's the use of
sending one or two poor missionaries off with it among thousands of just
such? I suppose this child is about a fair sample of what thousands of
your heathen are."

Miss Ophelia did not make an immediate answer; and Eva, who had stood a
silent spectator of the scene thus far, made a silent sign to Topsy to
follow her. There was a little glass-room at the corner of the verandah,
which St. Clare used as a sort of reading-room; and Eva and Topsy
disappeared into this place.

"What's Eva going about, now?" said St. Clare; "I mean to see