I'm almost all the time very sorry, only
sometimes I'm not; and then I should like to play with the tins, only he
won't let me. I don't dare to cry out loud, for fear the naughty man
would whip me, but I always moan when we're going through woods, and
there's nobody in sight to hear me. He never lets me look out of the
back of the cart, only when there's nobody to see me, and he won't let
me sing even when I want to. And I moan most when I think of daddy and
mammy, and how they are wondering what has become of me; and I think
moaning does me good, only he stops me short.

_Amy_. Now, Orphy, what is to be done? The tinman has, of course,
kidnapped this black child to take her into Maryland, where he can sell
her for a good price, as she is a fat, healthy-looking thing, and that
is a slave state. Does thee think we ought to let him take her off.

_Orphy_. No, indeed! I think I could feel free to fight for her
myself; that is, if fighting was not forbidden by Friends. Yonder's
Israel coming to turn the cows into the clover-field. Little girl, lie
quiet, and don't offer to show thyself.

Israel now advanced--"Well, girls," said he, "what's thee doing at the
tinman's cart? Not meddling among his tins, I hope? Oh, the curiosity
of women folks!"

"Israel," said Amy, "step softly; we have something to show thee."

The girls then lifted up the corner of the cart-cover, and displayed the
little negro girl, crouched upon the bag of feathers--a part of his
merchandise which the Yankee had not thought it expedient to produce,
after hearing Mrs Warner's anecdote of one of his predecessors. The
young man was much amazed; and his two sisters began both at once to
relate to him the story of the black child. Israel looked almost
indignant. His sisters said to him, "To be sure we won't let the Yankee
carry this child off with, him."

"I judge we won't," answered Israel.

"Then," said Amy, "let us take her out of the cart, and hide her in the
barn, or somewhere, till he is gone."

"No," replied Israel, "I can't say I feel free to do that. It would be
too much like stealing her over again; and I've no notion of evening
myself to a Yankee in any of his ways. Put her down in the cart, and
let her alone. I'll have no underhand work about her. Let's all go
back to the house. Mother has got down all the broken crockery from the
top shelf in the corner cupboard, and the Yankee's mending it with a
sort of stuff like st