"I do wish I could see Dinkie," she thought. "I wish I could do
something to help set every slave free." Then she remembered that Philip
had declared that Dinkie should neither be sold nor whipped.
"I like Philip," she declared aloud, and was surprised to hear a little
chuckling laugh from somewhere behind her, and turned quickly to find a
smiling negro woman close behind her.
"I likes Massa Philip myse'f," declared the woman, "an' I wishes I could
see him jus' a minute," and her smile disappeared. "I'se shuah Massa
Philip won' let 'em sell Dinkie, or lash her either," and putting her
apron over her face the woman began to cry.
"He won't! I heard him say he wouldn't have it," Sylvia assured her
eagerly. "Don't cry, Dinkie," and she patted the woman's arm.
Dinkie let her apron fall and looked eagerly at Sylvia.
"You'se the little Yankee missy, ain't you?" she questioned. "I hear say
that Yankees don't believe in selling black folks."
"They don't; I'm sure they don't. I'll run right back and tell Philip
you want to see him," replied Sylvia. "You stay right here by this
tree," she added, pointing to a big live-oak.
"Yas, Missy, I thanks you," replied the woman.
Sylvia ran back toward the house as fast as she could go. She could see
the ponies standing before the house, a small negro boy holding their
bridle-reins. The girls were on the steps waiting for her.
"I mustn't let them know that Dinkie wants to see Philip," she thought,
as the girls called out that they had been looking everywhere for her.
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