"I don't know. I have not heard her complain; perhaps she is a little tired and jaded from her journey; and then I think she studies too much. She spends most of her time in her room, and since I think of it, she does appear more quiet than usual; but I have been so busy about my preserves that I have not noticed her particularly." "Anna," said Thomas suddenly, after a moment's pause, "does thee think that there is any attachment between Louis and Minnie? He was very attentive to her when we were in Boston." "Why, Thomas, I have never thought anything about it. Minnie always seems so much like a child that I never get her associated in my mind with courtship and marriage. I suppose I ought to though," said Anna, with the faintest sigh. "Anna, I think that something is preying on that child's mind, and mother, thee knows that you women understand how to manage these things better than we men do, and I wish thee would find out what is the matter with the child. Try to find out if there is anything between her and Louis, and if there is, by all means we must let her know about herself; it is a duty we owe her and him." "Well, Thomas, if we must we must; but I shrink from it. Here she comes. Now I'll leave in a few minutes, and then thee can tell her; perhaps thee can do it better than I can." "What makes thee look so serious?" said Thomas, as Minnie entered the room. "Do I, father?" "Yes, thee looks sober as a Judge. What has happened to disturb thee?" "Nothing in particular; only I was down to Mr. Hickman's this morning, and they have a colored woman stopping with them. She is a very interesting and intelligent woman, and she was telling us part of her history, and it was very interesting, but, mother, I do think it is a dreadful thing to be a colored person in this country; how I should suffer if I knew that I was hated and despised for what I couldn't help. Oh, it must be dreadful to be colored." "Oh, don't talk so, Minnie, God never makes any mistakes." "I know that, mother; but, mother, it must be hard to be forced to ride in smoking cars; to be insulted in the different thoroughfares of travel; to be denied access to public resorts in some places,--such as lectures, theatres, concerts, and even have a particular seat assigned in the churches, and sometimes feel you were an object of pity even to your best friends. I know that Mrs. Heston felt so when she was telling her story, for when Mrs. Hickman said, 'Well, Sarah, I really pity you,' I saw her dark eyes flash, and she has really beautiful eyes, as she said, 'it is not pity we want, it is justice.'"