“That is the way I should arrange the matter,” said Mr. Shelby, the owner of the place.  “The fact is, Tom is an uncommon fellow; he is certainly worth that sum anywhere; steady, honest, capable, manages my farm like a clock.  You ought to let him cover the whole of the debt; and you would, Haley, if you’d got any conscience.”

“Well, I’ve got just as much conscience as any man in business can afford to keep,” said Haley, “and I’m willing to do anything to ’blige friends; but this yer, ye see, is too hard on a feller, it really is.  Haven’t you a boy or gal you could thrown in with Tom?”

“Hum!—­none that I could well spare; to tell the truth, it’s only hard necessity makes me sell at all.”  Here the door opened, and a small quadroon boy, remarkably beautiful and engaging, entered with a comic air of assurance which showed he was used to being petted and noticed by his master.  “Hulloa, Jim Crow,” said Mr. Shelby, snapping a bunch of raisins towards him, “pick that up, now!” The child scampered, with all his little strength after the prize, while his master laughed.  “Tell you what,” said Haley, “fling in that chap, and I’ll settle the business, I will.”

At this moment a young woman, obviously the child’s mother, came in search of him, and Haley, as soon as she had carried him away, turned to Mr. Shelby in admiration.

“By Jupiter!” said the trader, “there’s an article now!  You might make your fortune on that one gal in Orleans, any way.  What shall I say for her?  What’ll you take?”

“Mr. Haley, she is not to be sold.  I say no, and I mean no,” said Mr. Shelby, decidedly.

“Well, you’ll let me have the boy, though.”

“I would rather not sell him,” said Mr. Shelby; “the fact is, I’m a humane man, and I hate to take the boy from his mother, sir.”

“Oh, you do?  La, yes, I understand perfectly.  It is mighty unpleasant getting on with women sometimes.  I al’ays hates these yer screechin’ times.  As I manages business, I generally avoids ’em, sir.  Now, what if you get the gal off for a day or so? then the thing’s done quietly.  It’s always best to do the humane thing, sir; that’s been my experience.”  “I’d like to have been able to kick the fellow down the steps,” said Mr. Shelby to himself, when the trader had bowed himself out.  “And Eliza’s child, too!  I know I shall have some fuss with the wife about that, and for that matter, about Tom, too!  So much for being in debt, heigho!”

* * * * *

The prayer-meeting at Uncle Tom’s Cabin had been protracted to a very late hour, and Tom and his worthy helpmeet were not yet asleep, when between twelve and one there was a light tap on the window pane.

“Good Lord! what’s that?” said Aunt Chloe, starting up.  “My sakes alive, if it aint Lizzy!  Get on your clothes, old man, quick.  I’m gwine to open the door.”  And suiting the action to the word, the door flew open, and the light of the candle which Tom had hastily lighted, fell on the face of Eliza.  “I’m running away, Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe—­carrying off my child.  Master sold him.”