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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 32 of 131 (24%)

"Stop!" said his mother. "You shall never
talk so before me. You would have that little
nigger trample on Mary, would you? She
came home with a lie; it made Mary's story
false."

"What was Mary's story?" asked Jack.

It was related.

"Now," said Jack, sallying into a chair, "the
school-children happened to see it all, and they
tell the same story Nig does. Which is most
likely to be true, what a dozen agree they
saw, or the contrary?"

"It is very strange you will believe what
others say against your sister," retorted his
mother, with flashing eye. "I think it is time
your father subdued you."

"Father is a sensible man," argued Jack.
"He would not wrong a dog. Where IS Frado?"
he continued.

"Mother gave her a good whipping and
shut her up," replied Mary.

Just then Mr. Bellmont entered, and asked if
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