“No, Western; I know the North better than you do; it wouldn’t answer at all here.  We cannot take the boy—­it is impossible; it would create a rumpus amongst the clerks, who would all feel dreadfully insulted by our placing a nigger child on an equality with them.  I assure you the thing is out of the question.”

“Well, I must say you Northern people are perfectly incompwehensible.  You pay taxes to have niggers educated, and made fit for such places—­and then won’t let them fill them when they are pwepared to do so.  I shall leave you, then, to tell them we can’t take him.  I’m doosed sowwy for it—­I like his looks.”

Whilst Mr. Western and his partner were discussing in one room, Charlie and Esther were awaiting with some anxiety their decision in the other.

“I think they are going to take me,” said Charlie; “you saw how struck they appeared to be with the writing.”

“They admired it, I know, my dear; but don’t be too sanguine.”

“I feel sure they are going to take me,” repeated he with a hopeful countenance.

Esther made no reply, and they remained in silence until Mr. Twining returned to the room.

After two or three preparatory ahems, he said to Esther; “I should like to take your brother very much; but you see, in consequence of there being so much excitement just now, relative to Abolitionism and kindred subjects, that my partner and myself—­that is, I and Mr. Western—­think—­or rather feel—­that just now it would be rather awkward for us to receive him.  We should like to take him; but his colour, miss—­his complexion is a fatal objection.  It grieves me to be obliged to tell you this; but I think, under the circumstances, it would be most prudent for us to decline to receive him.  We are very sorry—­but our clerks are all young men, and have a great deal of prejudice, and I am sure he would be neither comfortable nor happy with them.  If I can serve you in any other way—­”

“There is nothing that you can do that I am aware of,” said Esther, rising; “I thank you, and am sorry that we have occupied so much of your time.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Mr. Twining, evidently happy to get rid of them; and, opening the door, he bowed them out of the office.

The two departed sadly, and they walked on for some distance in silence.  At last Esther pressed his hand, and, in a choking voice, exclaimed, “Charlie, my dear boy, I’d give my life if it would change your complexion—­if it would make you white!  Poor fellow! your battle of life will be a hard one to fight!”

“I know it, Ess; but I shouldn’t care to be white if I knew I would not have a dear old Ess like you for a sister,” he answered, pressing her hand affectionately.  “I don’t intend to be conquered,” he continued; “I’ll fight it out to the last—­this won’t discourage me.  I’ll keep on trying,” said he, determinedly—­“if one won’t, perhaps another will.”