Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life

[187]

Poor little Sue!

The purchaser next turned to Martha, the elder sister, a bright Topsy-looking thing.

“What's that on her cheek,” he asked, pointing to a sort of scar or streak of paleness. Martha grinned.

“Somebody's whacked her chops, most likely,” said the slave-trader, coolly (in whose face I saw nothing good-natured after that). Nothing more was said about it.

The gentleman drew the child to him, felt the muscles of her arm, and questioned her a little. Her price was 700 dollars, and little Sue's 450 dollars.

“Well, Martha,” said he at last, “would n't you like to go with me and have a pleasant home?”

Strange to say, the African smile left Martha's merry face, too. “Please, sir,” said she, “I wish I could stay with my mother.”

“Confound the girls,” said the good-natured purchaser, turning to me in despair; “they must be sold to somebody, you know. Of course, I can't buy the whole of them, and the mother, too.” Of course not; and there was the whole story in a nutshell.

“Nonsense, gals,” said Thompson; “ your mother'll be up here, maybe, some day.” (Pleasant prospect, in the lottery of life, for three ‘articles’ under twelve years.)

On inquiry it appeared that the mother was in Virginia, and might or might not be sent to St. Louis for sale. The intention was, however, to sell the children in a day or two, together or separately, or else to send them south with Mr. Mattingly.