"Heap better," said Flor acquiescently, and beginning to hold a whistling colloquy with the hidden voice. "You won't bring him down wid yer tunes. He knows w'en he's well off; he's free, he is,--swingin' onto de bough, an' 'gwine whar he like." "Leet de chil' alone, Zoe," said a superannuated old woman sitting in the corner by the fire always smouldering on Zoe's hearth, and leaning her white head on her cane. "You be berrer showin' her her duty in her place dan be makin' her discontented." "She doan' make me disconnected, Maum Susie," said Flor. "'F he's free, w'at's he stayin' here for? Dar 's law for dat. Doan' want none o' yer free niggers hangin' roun' dis yere. Chirrup!" "Dar's a right smart chance ob 'em, dough, jus' now," said Aunt Zoe, chuckling at first, and then breaking into the most boisterous of laughs, "Seems like we's all ob us, ebery one, free as Sarp hisse'f. Mas'r Linkum say so. Yah, ha, ha!" "Linkum!" said Flor. "Who dat ar? Some o' yer poor w'ite trash? Mas'r Henry doan' say so!" "W'a' 's de matter wid dat ar boy Sarp, Zoe?" recommenced Flor, after a pause. "Mus' hab wanted suffin,--powerful,--to lib in de swamp, hab de dogs after him, an' a bullet troo de head mos' likely." "Jus' dat. Wanted him freedom," said Zoe suddenly, with crackling stress, her eyes getting angry in their fervor, as she went on. "Wanted him body for him own. Tired o' usin' 'noder man's eyes, 'noder man's han's. Wanted him han's him own, wanted him heart him own! Had n' no breff to breathe 'cep' w'at Mas'r Henry gib out. Di'n' t'ink no t'oughts but Mas'r Henry's. Wanted him wife some day to hisse'f, wanted him chillen for him own property. Wanted to call no man mas'r but de Lord in heaben!" "Wy, Maum Zoe, how you talk! Sarp had n' no wife." "Neber would, w'ile he wor a slave." "Hist now, Zoe!" said the old woman. "I jus' done b'lieve you's a bobolitionist!" said Flor, with wide eyes and a battery of nods. "No 'casion, no 'casion," said Zoe, with the deep inner chuckle again. "We's done 'bolished,--dat's w'at we is! We's a free people now. No more work for de 'bominationists!" And on the point of uncontrollable hilarity, she checked herself with the dignity becoming her new position. "You's your own nigger now, Salome," said she. "We? No, t'ank you. I 'longs to Miss Emma." "You haan' no understandin' for liberty, chil'. Seems ef 'twas like religion"---- "Ef I wor to tell Mas'r Henry, oh, wouldn' you cotch it?" "Go 'long!" cried Zoe, looking out for a missile. "Doan' ye bring no more o' yer rabbits here, ef ye 'r' gwine to fetch an' carry"---- "Lors, Aunt Zoe, 'pears like you's out o' sorts. Haan' I got nof'n berrer to do dan be tellin' tales ob old women dat's a-waitin' for de Lord's salvation?" said Flor, with a twang of great gravity,--and proceeded thereat to make her exit in a series of lively somersaults through the room and over the threshold.