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%)
page 23 of 131 (17%)
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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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