"Why, she found out all about her, and said she should not stay on the
place another day, and so she sent her down to Orleans to the nigger
traders, and my heart's most broke," and Milly sat down, wiping her
tears with her apron.

"Never mind, Milly," said Louis, "I'll go down to New Orleans and bring
her back. Mother sha'n't do as she pleases with me, as if I were a boy,
and must always be tied to her apron string. I've got some money of my
own, and I mean to find Ellen if I have to look all over the country."

He entered the dining room, and saw his mother seated at the tea table,
looking as bland and pleasant as a Spring morning, and asked, "Where is
Ellen?"

The smile died from her lips, and she answered, curtly, "She is out of
_your_ reach [?]. I've sold her."

"But where have you sold her?"

"Out of your reach, and that is all I am going to tell you."

Louis, without saying another word went out to the coachman, and asked
what time the cars left the station.

"Ten minutes to nine."

"Can you take me there in time to reach the train? I want to go to the
city tonight."

"Dunno, massa; my best horse is lame, and what----"