“I shall ask to have them sent back to me,” replied the farmer; “for I should like to keep a likeness of thee and thy Rosa.  They will be pleasant to look upon.  As soon as I receive an answer, Friend Alfred, I will call upon thee at the Metropolitan.”

“We shall be pleased to see you, Friend Joseph,” said Rosa, with one of her sweetest smiles, which penetrated the Quaker’s soul, as sunshine does the receptive earth.  Yet, when the carriage had rolled away, he harnessed his sleek horses to the wagon, and conveyed Henriet and her babe to the house of a Friend at White Plains, till he ascertained whether these stylish-looking strangers were what they professed to be.

A few days afterward, Friend Joseph called at the Metropolitan.  When he inquired for the wealthy Bostonian, the waiter stared at his plain dress, and said, “Your card, sir.”

“I have no card,” replied the farmer.  “Tell him Friend Joseph wishes to see him.”

The waiter returned, saying, “Walk this way, sir,” and showed him into the elegant reception-room.

As he sat there, another servant, passing through, looked at him, and said, “All gentlemen take off their hats in this room, sir.”

“That may be,” quietly replied the Quaker; “but all men do not, for thee sees I keep mine on.”

The entrance of Mr. King, and his cordial salutation, made an impression on the waiters’ minds; and when Friend Joseph departed, they opened the door very obsequiously.

The result of the conference was that Mr. and Mrs. King returned to Boston with Henriet and her little one.

Tulee had proved in many ways that her discretion might be trusted; and it was deemed wisest to tell her the whole story of the babe, who had been carried to the calaboose with her when Mr. Bruteman’s agent seized her.  This confidence secured her as a firm friend and ally of Henriet, while her devoted attachment to Mrs. King rendered her secrecy certain.  When black Chloe saw the newcomer learning to play on the piano, she was somewhat jealous because the same privilege had not been offered to her children.  “I didn’t know Missy Rosy tought thar war sech a mighty difference ‘tween black an’ brown,” said she.  “I don’t see nothin’ so drefful pooty in dat ar molasses color.”

“Now ye shut up,” rejoined Tulee.  “Missy Rosy knows what she’s ’bout.  Ye see Mr. Fitzgerald was in love with Missy Eulaly; an’ Henret’s husban’ took care o’ him when he was dying.  Mr. King is going to send him ‘cross the water on some gran’ business, to pay him for ’t; and Missy Rosy wants his wife to be ’spectable out there ’mong strangers.”

Henriet proved good-natured and unassuming, and, with occasional patronage from Tulee, she was generally able to keep her little boat in smooth water.