"Faithful as ever, Daddy? You found me out, and came to see me,
didn't you?" says Franconia, so kindly, leading him into a small
room on the left hand of the hall, where, after ordering some supper
for him, she begs he will tell her all about his wayfaring. It is
some minutes before Bob can get an opportunity to tell Franconia
that he is a fugitive, having escaped the iron grasp of the law to
stand true to old mas'r. At length he, in the enthusiastic boundings
of his heart, commences his story.
"Nigger true, Miss Franconia"-he mumbles out-"on'e gib 'im chance to
be. Ye sees, Bob warn't gwine t' lef' old mas'r, nohow; so I gin
'ein da slip when'e come t' takes 'em fo'h sell-"
"Then they didn't sell you, old Dad? That's good! that's good! And
Daddy's cold and wet?" she interrupts, anxiously, telling the
servant to get some dry clothes for him.
"I is dat, Miss Frankone. Han't ad nofin t' eat dis most two days,"
he returns, looking at her affectionately, with one of those simple
smiles, so true, so expressive.
A supper is soon ready for Daddy, to which he sits down as if he
were about to renew all his former fondness and familiarity. "Seems
like old times, don 'un, Miss Frankone? Wish old mas'r war here,
too," says the old man, putting the bowl of coffee to his lips, and
casting a side-look at the servant.
Franconia sits watching him intently, as if he were a child just
rescued from some impending danger. "Don't mention my poor uncle,
Daddy.
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