my heart。”
“What do you mean； Eva？”
“I can’t tell you； papa； I think a great many thoughts。 Perhaps some day I shall tell you。”
“Well； think away； dear；—only don’t cry and worry your papa；” said St。 Clare； “Look here；—see what a beautiful peach I have got for you。”
Eva took it and smiled； though there was still a nervous twiching about the corners of her mouth。
“Come； look at the gold…fish；” said St。 Clare； taking her hand and stepping on to the verandah。 A few moments； and merry laughs were heard through the silken curtains； as Eva and St。 Clare were pelting each other with roses； and chasing each other among the alleys of the court。
There is danger that our humble friend Tom be neglected amid the adventures of the higher born； but； if our readers will acomompany us up to a little loft over the stable； they may； perhaps； learn a little of his affairs。 It was a decent room； containing a bed； a chair； and a small； rough stand； where lay Tom’s Bible and hymn…book； and where he sits； at present； with his slate before him； intent on something that seems to cost him a great deal of anxious thought。
The fact was； that Tom’s home…yearnings had become so strong that he had begged a sheet of writing…paper of Eva； and； mustering up all his small stock of literary attainment acquired by Mas’r George’s instructions； he conceived the bold idea of writing a letter； and he was busy now； on his slate； getting out his first draft。 Tom was in a good deal of trouble； for the forms of some of the letters he had forgotten entirely； and of what he did remember； he did not know exactly which to use。 And while he was working； and breathing very hard； in his earnestness； Eva alighted； like a bird； on the round of his chair behind him； and peeped over his shoulder。
“O； Uncle Tom！ what funny things you are making； there！”
“I’m trying to write to my poor old woman； Miss Eva； and my little chil’en；” said Tom； drawing the back of his hand over his eyes； “but； some how； I’m feard I shan’t make it out。”
“I wish I could help you； Tom！ I’ve learnt to write some。 year I could make all the letters； but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten。”
So Eva put her golden head close to his； and the two commenced a grave and anxious discussion； each one equally earnest； and about equally ignorant； and； with a deal of consulting and advising over every word； the composition began； as they both felt very sanguine； to look quite like writing。
“Yes； Uncle Tom； it really begins to look beautiful；” said Eva； gazing delightedly on it。 “How pleased your wife’ll be； and the poor little children！ O； it’s a shame you ever had to go away from them！ I mean to ask papa to let you go back； some time。”
“Missis said that she would send down money for me； as soon as they could get it together；” said Tom。 “I’m ’spectin； she will。 Young Mas’r George； he said he’d come for me； and he gave me this yer dollar as a sign；” and Tom drew from under his clothes the precious dollar。
“O； he’ll certainly come； then！” said Eva。 “I’m so glad！”
“And I wanted to send a letter； you know； to let ’em know whar I was； and tell poor Chloe that I was well off；—cause she felt so drefful； poor soul！”
“I say Tom！” said St。 Clare’s voice； coming in the door at this moment。
Tom and Eva both started。
“What’s here？” said St。 Clare； coming up and looking at the slate。
“O； it’s Tom’s letter。 I’m helping him to write it；” said Eva； “isn’t it nice？”
“I wouldn’t discourage either of you；” said St。 Clare； “but I rather think； Tom； you’d better get me to write your letter for you。 I’ll do it； when I come home from my ride。”
“It’s very important he should write；” said Eva； “because his mistress is going to send down money to redeem him； you know； papa； he told me they told him so。”
St。 Clare thought； in his heart； that this was probably only one of those things which good…natured owners say to their servants； to alleviate their horror of being sold； without any intention of fulfilling the expectation thus excited。 But he did not make any audible comment upon it；—only ordered Tom to get the horses out for a ride。
Tom’s letter was written in due form for him that evening； and safely lodged in the post…office。
Miss Ophelia still persevered in her labors in the housekeeping line。 It was universally agreed； among all the household； from Dinah down to the youngest urchin； that Miss Ophelia was decidedly “curis；”—a term by which a southern servant implies that his or her betters don’t exactly suit them。
The higher circle in the family—to wit； Adolph； Jane and Rosa—agreed that she was no lady； ladies never keep working about as she did；—that she had no air at all； and they were surprised that she should be any relation of the St。 Clares。 Even Marie declared that it was absolutely fatiguing to see Cousin Ophelia always so busy。 And； in fact； Miss Ophelia’s industry was so incessant as to lay some foundation for the complaint。 She sewed and stitched away； from daylight till dark； with the energy of one who is pressed on by some immediate urgency； and then； when the light faded； and the work was folded away； with one turn out came the ever…ready knitting…work； and there she was again； going on as briskly as ever。 It really was a labor to see her。
Chapter 20
Topsy
One morning； while Miss Ophelia was busy in some of her domestic cares； St。 Clare’s voice was heard； calling her at the foot of the stairs。
“Come down here； Cousin； I’ve something to show you。”
“What is it？” said Miss Ophelia； coming down； with her sewing in her hand。
“I’ve made a purchase for your department；—see here；” said St。 Clare； and； with the word； he pulled along a little negro girl； about eight or nine years of age。
She was one of the blackest of her race； and her round shining eyes； glittering as glass beads； moved with quick and restless glances over everything in the room。 Her mouth； half open with astonishment at the wonders of the new Mas’r’s parlor； displayed a white and brilliant set of teeth。 Her woolly hair was braided in sundry little tails； which stuck out in every direction。 The expression of her face was an odd mixture of shrewdness and cunning； over which was oddly drawn； like a kind of veil； an expression of the most doleful gravity and solemnity。 She was dressed in a single filthy； ragged garment； made of bagging； and stood with her hands demurely folded before her。 Altogether； there was something odd and goblin…like about her appearance；—something； as Miss Ophelia afterwards said； “so heathenish；” as to inspire that good lady with utter dismay； and turning to St。 Clare； she said；
“Augustine； what in the world have you brought that thing here for？”
“For you to educate； to be sure； and train in the way she should go。 I thought she was rather a funny specimen in the Jim Crow line。 Here； Topsy；” he added； giving a whistle； as a man would to call the attention of a dog； “give us a song； now； and show us some of your dancing。”
The black； glassy eyes glittered with a kind of wicked drollery； and the thing struck up； in a clear shrill voice； an odd negro melody； to which she kept time with her hands and feet； spinning round； clapping her hands； knocking her knees together； in a wild； fantastic sort of time； and producing in her throat all those odd guttural sounds which distinguish the native music of her race； and finally； turning a summerset or two； and giving a prolonged closing note； as odd and unearthly as that of a steam…whistle； she came suddenly down on the carpet； and stood with her hands folded； and a most sanctimonious expression of meekness and solemnity over her face； only broken by the cunning glances which she shot askance from the corners of her eyes。
Miss Ophelia stood silent； perfectly paralyzed with amazement。 St。 Clare； like a mischievous fellow as he was； appeared to enjoy her astonishment； and； addressing the child again； said；
“Topsy； this is your new mistress。 I’m going to give you up to her； see now that you behave yourself。”
“Yes； Mas’r；” said Topsy； with sanctimonious gravity； her wicked eyes twinkling as she spoke。
“You’re going to be good； Topsy； you understand；” said St。 Clare。
“O yes； Mas’r；” said Topsy； with another twinkle； her hands still devoutly folded。
“Now； Augustine； what upon earth is this for？” said Miss Ophelia。 “Your house is so full of these little plagues； now； that a body can’t set down their foot without treading on ’em。 I get up in the morning； and find one asleep behind the door； and see one black head poking out from under the table； one lying on the door…mat；—and they are mopping and mowing and grinning between all the railings； and tumbling over the kitchen floor！ What on earth did you want to bring this one for？”
“For you to educate—didn’t I tell you？ You’re always preaching about educating。 I thought I would make you a present of a fresh…caught specimen； and let you try your hand on her； and bring her up in the way she should go。”
“I don’t want her； I am sure；—I have more to do with ’em now than I want to。”
“That’s you Christians； all over！—you’ll get up a society； and get some poor missionary to spend all his days among just such heathen。 But let me see one of you that would take one into your house with you； and take the labor of their conversion on yourselves！ No； when it comes to that； they are dirty and disagreeable； and it’s too much care； and so on。”
“Augustine； you know I didn’t think of it in that light；” said Miss Ophelia； evidently softening。 “Well； it might be a real missionary work；” said she； looking rather more favorably on the child。
St。 Clare had touched the right string。 Miss Ophelia’s conscientiousness was ever on the alert。 “But；” she added； “I really didn’t see the need of buying this one；—there are enough now； in your house； to take all my time and skill。”
“Well； then； Cousin；” said St。 Clare； drawing her aside； “I ought to beg your pardon for my good…for…nothing speeches。 You are so good； after all； that there’s no sense in them。 Why； the fact is； this concern belonged to a couple of drunken creatures that keep a low restaurant that I have to pass by every day； and I was tired of hearing her screaming；