“Ask Sylvia.  I heard my father say that Sylvia’s father was one,” answered Flora.

“I don’t know.  But my father is a Congregationalist,” replied Sylvia.  “Perhaps that’s what your father meant.”

“No, it’s something about not believing in having slaves, I know that much,” said Flora.

“Who would do our work then?” questioned Grace.

Flora could not answer this question.  Sylvia resolved to ask Miss Rosalie at question time the meaning of this new word.  If her father and Philip Hayes were “abolitionists,” she was quite sure the word meant something very brave and fine.

“What about Miss Flora and her ghost now?” Grace found a chance to whisper, as they entered the schoolroom.  “She doesn’t mean to own up.”

“Wait, she will,” was Sylvia’s response as she took her seat.

When question time came Sylvia was ready.  She stood up smiling and eager, and Miss Rosalie smiled back.  She had grown fond of her little pupil from Boston, and thought to herself that Sylvia was really becoming almost like a little southern girl in her graceful ways and pleasant smile.

“What is your question, Sylvia?” she asked.

“If you please, Miss Rosalie, what does ‘abolitionist’ mean?”

Some of the older girls exchanged startled looks, and May Bailey barely restrained a laugh.  Probably Grace and Sylvia were the only girls in school who had not heard the word used as a term of reproach against the people of the northern states who wished to do away with slavery.

Miss Rosalie’s smile faded, but she responded without a moment’s hesitation: 

“Why, an ‘abolitionist’ is a person who wishes to destroy some law or custom.”

There was a little murmur among the other pupils, but Grace and Sylvia looked at each other with puzzled eyes.  Philip did not wish to “destroy” anything, thought Sylvia; he only wanted to protect Dinkie.  And she was sure that her father would not destroy anything, unless it was something which would harm people.  So it was a puzzled Sylvia who came home from school that day.  She decided that her father could answer a question much better than Miss Rosalie, and resolved to ask him the meaning of the word.

“Come up-stairs, Estralla,” she said, finding the little negro girl at the gate as usual waiting for her.  “I have some things my mother said I could give you.”

Estralla followed happily.  She didn’t care very much what it might be that Missy Sylvia would give her, it was delight enough for Estralla to follow after her.  But when the little girl saw the things spread out on Sylvia’s bed she exclaimed aloud: 

“Does you mean, Missy, dat I’se to pick out somethin’?  Well, then I chooses the shoes.  I never had no shoes.”

“They are all for you,” said Sylvia, lifting up a pretty blue cape and holding it toward Estralla.

“My lan’!” whispered Estralla.