Mrs. Garie, since her arrival, had been much confined to her room, in consequence of her protracted indisposition.  Mrs. Stevens had several times intimated to Mr. Garie her intention of paying his wife a visit; but never having received any very decided encouragement, she had not pressed the matter, though her curiosity was aroused, and she was desirous of seeing what kind of person Mrs. Garie could be.

Her son George in his visits had never been permitted farther than the front parlour; and all the information that could be drawn from little Lizzy, who was frequently in Mrs. Garie’s bedroom, was that “she was a pretty lady, with great large eyes.”  One evening, when Mr. Garie was occupying his accustomed seat, he was accosted from the other side by Mrs. Stevens, who, as usual, was very particular in her inquiries after the state of his wife’s health; and on learning that she was so much improved as to be down-stairs, suggested that, perhaps, she would be willing to receive her.

“No doubt she will,” rejoined Mr. Garie; and he immediately entered the house to announce the intended visit.  The lamps were not lighted when Mrs. Stevens was introduced, and faces could not, therefore, be clearly distinguished.

“My dear,” said Mr. Garie, “this is our neighbour, Mrs. Stevens.”

“Will you excuse me for not rising?” said Mrs. Garie, extending her hand to her visitor.  “I have been quite ill, or I should have been most happy to have received you before.  My little folks are in your house a great deal—­I hope you do not find them troublesome.”

“Oh, by no means!  I quite dote on your little Emily, she is such a sweet child—­so very affectionate.  It is a great comfort to have such a child near for my own to associate with—­they have got quite intimate, as I hope we soon shall be.”

Mrs. Garie thanked her for the kindness implied in the wish, and said she trusted they should be so.

“And how do you like your house?” asked Mrs. Stevens; “it is on the same plan as ours, and we find ours very convenient.  They both formerly belonged to Walters; my husband purchased of him.  Do you intend to buy?”

“It is very probable we shall, if we continue to like Philadelphia,” answered Mr. Garie.

“I’m delighted to hear that,” rejoined she—­“very glad, indeed.  It quite relieves my mind about one thing:  ever since Mr. Stevens purchased our house we have been tormented with the suspicion that Walters would put a family of niggers in this; and if there is one thing in this world I detest more than another, it is coloured people, I think.”

Mr. Garie here interrupted her by making some remark quite foreign to the subject, with the intention, no doubt, of drawing her off this topic.  The attempt was, however, an utter failure, for she continued—­“I think all those that are not slaves ought to be sent out of the country back to Africa, where they belong:  they are, without exception, the most ignorant, idle, miserable set I ever saw.”