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Our nig, or, sketches from the life of a free black, in a two-story white house, North showing that slavery's shadows fall even there by Harriet E. Wilson
page 23 of 131 (17%)
some and bright, and not very black, either."

"Yes," rejoined Mary; "that's just like you,
Jack. She'll be of no use at all these three
years, right under foot all the time."

"Poh! Miss Mary; if she should stay, it
wouldn't be two days before you would be telling
the girls about OUR nig, OUR nig!" retorted Jack.

"I don't want a nigger 'round ME, do you,
mother?" asked Mary.

"I don't mind the nigger in the child. I
should like a dozen better than one," replied her
mother. "If I could make her do my work in
a few years, I would keep her. I have so much
trouble with girls I hire, I am almost persuaded
if I have one to train up in my way from a
child, I shall be able to keep them awhile. I
am tired of changing every few months."

"Where could she sleep?" asked Mary. "I
don't want her near me."

"In the L chamber," answered the mother.

"How'll she get there?" asked Jack. "She'll
be afraid to go through that dark passage,
and she can't climb the ladder safely."
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