“Just you give me that baby, father,” blurted out the fat boy, starting forward, and receiving in his short arms the infant which Roux readily abandoned to his charge. “There’s nobody knows how to take care of this poor child but me,” he indignantly continued, bearing off his burden, and sitting down with it in a short chair near the wall. “Lord a mercy! If it wasn’t for me, I don’t know what’d become of this family! Chick-a-dee-dee—chick-a-dee-dee—honey—honey—pretty Brudder Baby,” he chirruped, showing all his ivories in a jovial grin to the infant, and dancing it up and down in his short arms. “Tugmutton’s great on takin’ care of the chil’ren,” remarked Roux to the smiling Harrington. “There aint no better boy than Tug nowhere, Mr. Harrington. He helps Clarindy a mighty deal, an’ he’s a reel comfort, I tell you.” “Why, yes, Mr. Roux, so I see,” smilingly returned the young man. “And he learns the lessons I give him, very well. I shouldn’t wonder if Charles came to be a great man one of these days. He says he’s going to be a lawyer like Robert Morris.” Robert Morris was a colored man, who had fought his way up against the prejudice of the many, and with the aid of a few, to an honorable position, which he then held, at the Boston Bar. “Tell you what, Mr. Harrington,” said the proud Tugmutton, “Danel Webster won’t be nowhere when I come on the scene of action. I’ll make him stand round. Fugitive Slave Law’s bound to go then, an’ all the kidnappers’ll be hung right up.” At that moment steps were heard, and Emily appeared at the door, coloring with the novelty of her situation, and followed by a short, thick-set man, in a straw hat, with his head bent sideways. “Why, Emily!” exclaimed Harrington, starting up. “And with the Captain! Miss Ames, Mr. Roux. Captain Fisher you know.” The superb beauty curtseyed low, with a sweeping rustle of silks, and Roux, fluttering at heart in the presence of the aristocratic lady, bent himself as if he had a hinge in his back. Harrington handed Emily a chair, into which she sank, smiling and nodding to the enchanted Tugmutton, and Muriel came floating out from the inner room with her natural urbane curtsey. “Why, Emily!” she exclaimed, shutting the door behind her. “You too. Good morning, Captain Fisher.” “It’s my doin’s, Miss Eastman,” said the Captain, in a cheery voice, looking at Muriel with his head on one side, and his hat on, as he shook hands with her. “Comin’ along, I see Miss Ames in the hack, and she said you was here; so I said, why not go too, and she took my extinded arm, and up we come together.”