_Ratts._ Lynch him! Darn his copper carcass, I've got a set of Irish deck-hands aboard that just loved that child; and after I tell them this, let them get a sight of the red-skin, I believe they would eat him, tomahawk and all. Poor little Paul! _Thibo._ What was he worth? _Ratts._ Well, near on five hundred dollars. _Pete._ [_Scandalized._] What, sar! You p'tend to be sorry for Paul, and prize him like dat. Five hundred dollars!--[_To_ Thibodeaux.] Tousand dollars, Massa Thibodeaux. _Enter_ Scudder, L. U. E. _Scud._ Gentlemen, the sale takes place at three. Good morning, Colonel. It's near that now, and there's still the sugar-houses to be inspected. Good day, Mr. Thibodeaux--shall we drive down that way? Mr. Lafouche, why, how do you do, sir? you're looking well. _Lafouche._ Sorry I can't return the compliment. _Ratts._ Salem's looking a kinder hollowed out. _Scud._ What, Mr. Ratts, are you going to invest in swamps? _Ratts._ No; I want a nigger. _Scud._ Hush. _Pete._ [R.] Eh! wass dat? _Scud._ Mr. Sunnyside, I can't do this job of showin' round the folks; my stomach goes agin it. I want Pete here a minute. _Sunny._ I'll accompany them certainly. _Scud._ [_Eagerly._] Will ye? Thank ye; thank ye. _Sunny._ We must excuse Scudder, friends. I'll see you round the estate. _Enter_ George _and_ Mrs. Peyton, L. U. E. _Lafouche._ Good morning, Mrs. Peyton. [_All salute._] _Sunny._ This way, gentlemen. _Ratts._ [_Aside to_ Sunnyside.] I say, I'd like to say summit soft to the old woman; perhaps it wouldn't go well, would it? _Thibo._ No; leave it alone. _Ratts._ Darn it, when I see a woman in trouble, I feel like selling the skin off my back. [_Exit_ Thibodeaux, Sunnyside, Ratts, Pointdexter, Grace, Jackson, Lafouche, Caillou, Solon, R. U. E. _Scud._ [_Aside to_ Pete.] Go outside, there; listen to what you hear, then go down to the quarters and tell the boys, for I can't do it. O, get out. _Pete._ He said I want a nigger. Laws, mussey! What am goin' to cum ob us! [_Exit slowly, as if concealing himself,_ R. U. E. _George._ [C.] My dear aunt, why do you not move from this painful scene? Go with Dora to Sunnyside. _Mrs. P._ [R.] No, George; your uncle said to me with his dying breath, "Nellie, never leave Terrebonne," and I never will leave it, till the law compels me. _Scud._ [L.] Mr. George, I'm going to say somethin' that has been chokin' me for some time. I know you'll excuse it. Thar's Miss Dora--that girl's in love with you; yes, sir, her eyes are startin' out of her head with it; now her fortune would redeem a good part of this estate. _Mrs. P._ Why, George, I never suspected this! _George._ I did, aunt, I confess, but-- _Mrs. P._ And you hesitated from motives of delicacy? _Scud._ No, ma'am; here's the plan of it. Mr. George is in love with Zoe. _George._ Scudder! _Mrs. P._ George!