CHAPTER VII.

FRANCES.

QUITE a number of children were gathered in the vicinity
of the pump, performing their usual antics, under the direction
and leadership of a girl larger and older than the rest,--
a genuine, coal-black, woolly-headed, thick-lipped young negro.
This was the daughter of Venus, the cook, and her appointment of service
was the kitchen. Full of fun, and nimble as an eel in every joint,
her various pranks and feats of skill were perfectly amazing,
and were received with boisterous applause by the rest of the group.

As she saw Tidy advancing, however, she ceased her evolutions, and,
turning to the others with a comic grimace, she bade them hold off,
while she held discourse with the new-comer.

"Her comes yer white nigger," she said, in a loud whisper,
"and I's boun' to gaffer de las' news;" and putting on a demure face,
she accosted the neatly-appareled child.

"Specs ye're a stranger in dese yer parts. What's yer name?"

"Tidy;--what's yourn?" was the ready response.

"Dey calls me France. Dey don't stop to place fandangles on to
names here. Specs dey'll call YOU Ti."

"I doesn't care; I's willin'," replied Tidy, good-naturedly.