"I wish they wouldn't sell Dinkie. I hate to have her go. It isn't fair.
Of course she feels bad to leave those little darkies of hers. Jove!"
and the boy's voice had an angry tone, "Dinkie shan't be whipped! I
won't have it. She used to be my mammy."

Suddenly Sylvia realized that she was listening, and ran down the steps
toward the little lake which lay glimmering in the sun beneath the shade
of the overhanging pepper trees. She ran on past the lake down a little
path which led toward the pine woods. She no longer felt happy, and full
of anticipations of the surprise in store at the corn-shucking. All she
could think of was "Dinkie," a woman who was to be sold away from her
children, and who was to be whipped because she rebelled against the
cruelty of her master.

"It's because she's a slave," Sylvia whispered to herself. "I hate
slavery. My father said Yankees always fought for what was right. Why
don't they fight against slavery?" She quite forgot that Flora and Grace
would wonder where she had gone, and be alarmed at her absence.

"I do wish I could see Dinkie," she thought. "I wish I could do
something to help set every slave free." Then she remembered that Philip
had declared that Dinkie should neither be sold nor whipped.

"I like Philip," she declared aloud, and was surprised to hear a little
chuckling laugh from somewhere behind her, and turned quickly to find a
smiling negro woman close behind her.

"I likes Massa Philip myse'f," declared the woman, "an' I wishes I could
see him jus' a minute," and her smile disappeared. "I'se shuah Massa
Philip won' let 'em sell Dinkie, or lash her either," and putting her