TOPSY


One morning, while Miss Ophelia was busy, as usual, she heard Mr. St.
Clare calling her from the foot of the stairs.

'Come down here, cousin. I have something to show you.'

'What is it?' said Miss Ophelia, coming down with her sewing in her
hand.

'I have bought something for you. See here,' he said, pulling forward a
little negro girl of about eight or nine years old.

She was quite black. Her round, shining eyes glittered like glass beads.
Her wooly hair was plaited into little tails which stuck out in all
directions. Her clothes were dirty and ragged. Miss Ophelia thought she
had never seen such a dreadful little girl in all her life.

'Cousin, what in the world have you brought that thing here for?' she
asked, in dismay.

'For you to teach, to be sure, and train in the way she should go,' said
Mr. St. Clare, laughing. 'Topsy,' he went on, 'this is your new
mistress. See, now, that you behave yourself.'

'Yes, mas'r,' said Topsy gravely, but her eyes had a wicked twinkle in
them.