“Because she is a coloured child,” rejoined Mr. Balch.  “Now, Clarence,” he continued, “you are old enough, I presume, to know the difference that exists between the privileges and advantages enjoyed by the whites, and those that are at the command of the coloured people.  White boys can go to better schools, and they can enter college and become professional men, lawyers, doctors, &c, or they may be merchants—­in fact, they can be anything they please.  Coloured people can enjoy none of these advantages; they are shut out from them entirely.  Now which of the two would you rather be—­coloured or white?”

“I should much rather be white, of course,” answered Clarence; “but I am coloured, and can’t help myself,” said he, innocently.

“But, my child, we are going to send you where it is not known that you are coloured; and you must never, never tell it, because if it became known, you would be expelled from the school, as you were from Miss Jordan’s.”

“I didn’t know we were expelled,” rejoined Clarence.  “I know she sent us home, but I could not understand what it was for.  I’m afraid they will send me from the other school.  Won’t they know I am coloured?”

“No, my child, I don’t think they will discover it unless you should be foolish enough to tell it yourself, in which case both Mr. Walters and myself would be very much grieved.”

“But suppose some one should ask me,” suggested Clarence.

“No one will ever ask you such a question,” said Mr. Balch, impatiently; “all you have to do is to be silent yourself on the subject.  Should any of your schoolmates ever make inquiries respecting your parents, all you have to answer is, they were from Georgia, and you are an orphan.”

Clarence’s eyes began to moisten as Mr. Balch spoke of his parents, and after a few moments he asked, with some hesitation, “Am I never to speak of mother?  I love to talk of mother.”

“Yes, my dear, of course you can talk of your mother,” answered Mr. Balch, with great embarrassment; “only, you know, my child, you need not enter into particulars as regards her appearance; that is, you—­ah!—­need not say she was a coloured woman.  You must not say that; you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Clarence.

“Very well, then; bear that in mind.  You must know, Clarence,” continued he, “that this concealment is necessary for your welfare, or we would not require it; and you must let me impress it upon you, that it is requisite that you attend strictly to our directions.”

Mr. Walters remained silent during most of this conversation.  He felt a repugnance to force upon the child a concealment the beneficial results of which were the reverse of obvious, so he merely gave Clarence some useful advice respecting his general conduct, and then permitted him to leave the room.

The morning fixed upon for their departure for Sudbury turned out to be cold and cheerless; and Clarence felt very gloomy as he sat beside his sister at their early breakfast, of which he was not able to eat a morsel.  “Do eat something, Clary,” said she, coaxingly; “only look what nice buckwheat cakes these are; cook got up ever so early on purpose to bake them for you.”