“Well, at any rate,” said Marie, as she reclined herself on a lounge, “I’m thankful I’m born where slavery exists; and I believe it’s right,—indeed, I feel it must be; and, at any rate, I’m sure I couldn’t get along without it.”

“I say, what do you think, Pussy?” said her father to Eva, who came in at this moment, with a flower in her hand.

“What about, papa?”

“Why, which do you like the best,—to live as they do at your uncle’s, up in Vermont, or to have a house- full of servants, as we do?”

“O, of course, our way is the pleasantest,” said Eva.

“Why so?” said St. Clare, stroking her head.

“Why, it makes so many more round you to love, you know,” said Eva, looking up earnestly.

“Now, that’s just like Eva,” said Marie; “just one of her odd speeches.”

“Is it an odd speech, papa?” said Eva, whisperingly, as she got upon his knee.

“Rather, as this world goes, Pussy,” said St. Clare. “But where has my little Eva been, all dinner-time?”

“O, I’ve been up in Tom’s room, hearing him sing, and Aunt Dinah gave me my dinner.”

“Hearing Tom sing, hey?”

“O, yes! he sings such beautiful things about the New Jerusalem, and bright angels, and the land of Canaan.”

“I dare say; it’s better than the opera, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and he’s going to teach them to me.”

“Singing lessons, hey?—you are coming on.”

“Yes, he sings for me, and I read to him in my Bible; and he explains what it means, you know.”

“On my word,” said Marie, laughing, “that is the latest joke of the season.”

“Tom isn’t a bad hand, now, at explaining Scripture, I’ll dare swear,” said St. Clare. “Tom has a natural genius for religion. I wanted the horses out early, this morning, and I stole up to Tom’s cubiculum there, over the stables, and there I heard him holding a meeting by himself; and, in fact, I haven’t heard anything quite so savory as Tom’s prayer, this some time. He put in for me, with a zeal that was quite apostolic.”

“Perhaps he guessed you were listening. I’ve heard of that trick before.”

“If he did, he wasn’t very polite; for he gave the Lord his opinion of me, pretty freely. Tom seemed to think there was decidedly room for improvement in me, and seemed very earnest that I should be converted.”

“I hope you’ll lay it to heart,” said Miss Ophelia.

“I suppose you are much of the same opinion,” said St. Clare. “Well, we shall see,—shan’t we, Eva?”