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%)
page 32 of 131 (24%)
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"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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