human
A letter, Mas'r Dick, said she, standing by Trafford's chair;
gpt
Ben Tate?
human
Said ye was to hev it dis yer afternoon, sure, said she;
gpt
Mas'r Dick, the boy whose smartness at school, and whose popularity among his companions, had always been her boast and pride. Gray and worn he was getting, gloomy, sad, even harsh at times to her, yet he was only
human
Mas'r Dick, and her own little boy, for whom she must watch and care to the best of her ability. Now, as she queried where the letter might be from, she dropped down in a chair a little way from him, and waited till he should see fit to answer her question; for could there be a paradise on earth, it would have been represented to Hagar by Hastings,--that great city where their old home had been, where her own childhood had been spent, and where all the friends of her kin and color dwelt. It was a hard matter to tear herself away from them all and follow Richard Trafford to dreary Culm Rock; but, with some tears and sighing, she had said to her people,
gpt
Yer don't know nuffin about it. Ye habn't got any 'Mas'r Dick;' so how ken ye? 'Tain't in dis yer old heart to let de chile go off sufferin' all by hisself, now! Bress de Lord, I'll stick to de poor boy, an' keep him frum jes' worryin' his life out. So here she was in her old age, away from all her people, yet happy because it was to serve
human
Mas'r Dick.
gpt
Yes, Hagar; it's from Hastings, of course.