“You must put your pride in your pocket for the present, Senorita Gonsalez,” said Madame, playfully touching her under the chin.  “If this Mr. King is absent, I will write to him.  They say there is a man in Boston, named William Lloyd Garrison, who takes great interest in slaves.  We will tell him our story, and ask him about Mr. King.  I did think of stopping awhile with relatives in New York.  But it would be inconvenient for them, and they might not like it.  This plan pleases me better.  To Boston we will go.  The Signor has gone to ask my cousin, Mr. Duroy, to come here and see to the house.  When I have placed you safely, I will come back slyly to my cousin’s house, a few miles from here, and with his help I will settle up my affairs.  Then I will return to you, and we will all go to some secure place and live together.  I never starved yet, and I don’t believe I ever shall.”

The orphans clung to her, and kissed her hands, as they said:  “How kind you are to us, dear friend!  What shall we ever do to repay you?”

“Your father and mother were generous friends to me,” replied Madame; “and now their children are in trouble, I will not forsake them.”

As the good lady was to leave her apartments for an indefinite time, there was much to be done and thought of, beside the necessary packing for the journey.  The girls tried their best to help her, but they were continually proposing to carry something because it was a keepsake from Mamita or Papasito.

“This is no time for sentiment, my children,” said Madame.  “We must not take anything we can possibly do without.  Bless my soul, there goes the bell!  What if it should be one of those dreadful creditors come here to peep and pry?  Run to your room, my children, and bolt the door.”

A moment afterward, she appeared before them smiling, and said:  “There was no occasion for being so frightened, but I am getting nervous with all this flurry.  Come back again, dears.  It is only Franz Blumenthal.”

“What, come again?” asked Rosa.  “Please go, Floracita, and I will come directly, as soon as I have gathered up these things that we must carry.”

The young German blushed like a girl as he offered two bouquets, one of heaths and orange-buds, the other of orange-blossoms and fragrant geraniums; saying as he did so, “I have taken the liberty to bring some flowers, Miss Floracita.”

“My name is Miss Royal, sir,” she replied, trying to increase her stature to the utmost.  It was an unusual caprice in one whose nature was so childlike and playful; but the recent knowledge that she was a slave had made her, for the first time, jealous of her dignity.  She took it into her head that he knew the humiliating fact, and presumed upon it.

But the good lad was as yet unconscious of this new trouble, and the unexpected rebuke greatly surprised him.  Though her slight figure and juvenile face made her attempt at majesty somewhat comic, it was quite sufficient to intimidate the bashful youth; and he answered, very meekly:  “Pardon me, Miss Royal.  Floracita is such a very pretty name, and I have always liked it so much, that I spoke it before I thought.”