2 TROTTYS WEDDING TOUR.

something strange about these eyes. Whenever they looked
at one, they seemed to cry right out, as if they had a voice.
But no one in Richmond cared about that. Nobody cared
about June at all. When she was unhappy no one asked
what was the matter ; when she was hungry, or cold, or fright-
ened Madame Joilet laughed at her, and when she was sick
she beat her. If she broke a teacup, or spilled a mug of
coffee she had her ears boxed, or was shut up in a terrible
dark cellar, where the rats were as large as kittens. If she
tried to sing a little in her sorrowful, smothered way, over her
work, Madame Joilet shook her for making so much noise.
When she stopped she scolded her for being sulky. Nothing
that she could do ever happened to be right; everything was
sure to be wrong. She had not half enough to eat, nor half
enough to wear. What was worse than that, she had nobody
to kiss, and nobody to kiss her; nobody to love her and pet
her; nobody in all the wide world to care whether she lived
or died, except a half-starved kitten that lived in the wood-
shed. For June was black, and a slave; and this French
woman, Madame Joilet, was her mistress.

Exactly what was the use of living under such circum-
stances June never could clearly see. She cherished a secret
notion that, if she could find a little grave all dug out some-
where in a clover-field, she would creep in and hide there.
Madame Joilet could not find her then. People who lived in
graves were not supposed to be hungry; and, if it were ever
so cold, they never shivered. That they could not be beaten