that your account
of yourself is not satisfactory, and therefore she detained you; and if
you won't work, she won't give you to eat; so there you are."

"Well, we will see if she is able."

"Able! If you mean strong enough, why she'd take you up with one hand;
and she is as resolute and severe as she is strong. I had rather have
to deal with three men, and that's the truth."

"What's the truth, James?" cried the mistress, coming in at the door.
"Let's hear the truth from your lips, it will be something new."

"I said that I was sent here for finding a pocket-book, mistress; that's
all."

"Yes; but you did not tell him where you found it--at the bottom of a
gentleman's coat-pocket, you know. You can only tell the truth by
halves yet, I see."

Wishing to ascertain how far the man's suspicions were correct, I said
to her:

"I have good friends in James Town: if I were once there I could procure
money and anything else to any amount that I required."

"Well," says she, "you may have; but I'm afraid that the post don't go
out to-day. One would think, after all your wanderings and
difficulties, that you'd be glad to be quiet a little, and remain here;
so we'll talk about James Town some time about next spring."

"Indeed, mistress, I hope you will not detain me here. I can pay you
handsomely, on my arrival at James Town, for your kind treatment and any
trouble you may take for me."

"Pay me! What do I want with money?--there's no shops here with
ribbons, and calicoes, and muslims; and if there were, I'm not a fine
madam. Money! Why I've no child to leave what I have to--no husband to
spend it for me. I have bags and bags of dollars, young man, which my
husband heaped up, and they are of as much use to me as they are now to
him."

"I am glad that you are so rich, mistress, and more glad that your money
is so little cared for and so little wanted; but if you do not want
money, I do very much want to get back to my friends, who think I am
dead, and mourn for me."

"Well, if they have mourned, their sorrow is over by this time, and
therefore your staying here will not distress them more. I may as well
tell you at once that you shall not go; so make up your mind to be
contented, and you'll fare none the worse for it."

This was said in so decided a tone, that, bearing in mind what I had
heard from the convict servant, I thought it advisable to push the
question no further for the present, making up my mi