Leroy looked anxiously and soberly at his wife, and said:  “Marie, I do not think so.  Your life is too lonely here.  Write your orders to New Orleans, get what you need for the journey, and let us spend the summer somewhere in the North.”

Just then Marie’s attention was drawn to some household matters, and it was a short time before she returned.

“Tom,” continued Leroy, “has just brought the mail, and here is a letter from Iola.”

Marie noticed that he looked quite sober as he read, and that an expression of vexation was lingering on his lips.

“What is the matter?” asked Marie.

“Nothing much; only a tempest in a teapot.  The presence of a colored girl in Mr. Galen’s school has caused a breeze of excitement.  You know Mr. Galen is quite an Abolitionist, and, being true to his principles, he could not consistently refuse when a colored woman applied for her daughter’s admission.  Of course, when he took her he was compelled to treat her as any other pupil.  In so doing he has given mortal offense to the mother of two Southern boys.  She has threatened to take them away if the colored girl remains.”

“What will he do about it?” asked Marie, thoughtfully.

“Oh, it is a bitter pill, but I think he will have to swallow it.  He is between two fires.  He cannot dismiss her from the school and be true to his Abolition principles; yet if he retains her he will lose his Southern customers, and I know he cannot afford to do that.”

“What does Iola say?”

“He has found another boarding place for her, but she is to remain in the school.  He had to throw that sop to the whale.”

“Does she take sides against the girl?”

“No, I don’t think she does.  She says she feels sorry for her, and that she would hate to be colored.  ’It is so hard to be looked down on for what one can’t help.’”

“Poor child!  I wish we could leave the country.  I never would consent to her marrying any one without first revealing to him her connection with the negro race.  This is a subject on which I am not willing to run any risks.”

“My dear Marie, when you shall have read Iola’s letter you will see it is more than a figment of my imagination that has made me so loth to have our children know the paralyzing power of caste.”

Leroy, always liberal with his wife and children, spared neither pains nor expense to have them prepared for their summer outing.  Iola was to graduate in a few days.  Harry was attending a school in the State of Maine, and his father had written to him, apprising him of his intention to come North that season.  In a few days Leroy and his wife started North, but before they reached Vicksburg they were met by the intelligence that the yellow fever was spreading in the Delta, and that pestilence was breathing its bane upon the morning air and distilling its poison upon the midnight dews.

“Let us return home,” said Marie.