“My wife, sah, dat I ain’t seed for twenty years, sah,” replied the old man, trying to steady his trembling tones, obeying the order, but making no effort to shake off Chloe’s clinging hold.

“Leave him for a little now, mammy dear; you shall never be parted again,” whispered Elsie in her nurse’s ear.  “Come with me, and let papa talk to the captain.”

Chloe obeyed, silently following her young mistress to the other side of the deck, but ever and anon turning her head to look back with wet eyes at the old wrinkled black face and white beard that to her were so dear, so charming.  His eyes were following her with a look of longing, yearning affection, and involuntarily he stretched out his arms towards her.

“Off to your work, sir,” ordered the captain, “and let’s have no more of this nonsense.”

Old Joe moved away with a patient sigh.

“The woman is your property, I presume, sir?” the captain remarked in a respectful tone, addressing Mr. Dinsmore.

“Yes, my daughter’s, which amounts to the same thing,” that gentleman replied in a tone of indifference; then changing the subject, made some inquiries about the speed and safety of the boat, the length of her trips, etc.

The captain answered pleasantly, showing pride in his vessel.  Then they spoke of other things:  the country, the crops, the weather.

“Sit down, mammy,” said Elsie pityingly, as they reached the settee where she and her father had been sitting; “you are trembling so you can scarcely stand.”

“O darlin’, dat’s true ‘nuff, I’se mos’ ready to drop,” she said tremulously, coming down heavily upon a trunk that stood close at hand.  “Oh, de good Lord hab bring me face to face wid my ole Uncle Joe; oh, I neber ’spected to see him no more in dis wicked world.  But dey’ll take ’im off again an’ dis ole heart’ll break,” she added, with a bursting sob.

“No, no, mammy, you shall have him, if money can accomplish it.”

“You buy ‘im, darlin’?  Oh, your ole mammy can neber t’ank you ’nuff!” and a low, happy laugh mingled with the choking sobs.  “But dey’ll ask heaps ob money.”

“You shall have him, let the price be what it will,” was Elsie’s assurance.  “See papa is bargaining with the captain now, for they look at Uncle Joe as they talk.”

Chloe regarded them with eager interest; yes, they were looking at Uncle Joe, and evidently speaking of him.

“By the way,” Mr. Dinsmore remarked carelessly, “does Uncle Joe belong to you? or is he merely a hired hand?”

“He’s my property, sir.”

“Would you like to sell?”

“I am not anxious; he’s a good hand, faithful and honest:  quite a religious character in fact,” he concluded with a sneer; “overshoots the mark in prayin and psalm-singing.  But do you want to buy?”

“Well yes; my daughter is fond of her old mammy, and for her sake would be willing to give a reasonable sum.  What do you ask?”