"They're none of mine," said Seth; "what you growling about?"
"Nobody will want any thing of mine, or yours either," she replied. "We'll make 'em, p'r'aps," he said. "There's Frado's six years old, and pretty, if she is yours, and white folks'll say so. She'd be a prize somewhere," he continued, tipping his chair back against the wall, and placing his feet upon the rounds, as if he had much more to say when in the right position.
Frado, as they called one of Mag's children, was a beautiful mulatto, with long, curly black hair, and handsome, roguish eyes, sparkling with an exuberance of spirit almost beyond restraint.
Hearing her name mentioned, she looked up from her play, to see what Seth had to say of her.
"Would n't the Bellmonts take her?" asked Seth.
"Bellmonts?" shouted Mag. "His wife is a right she-devil! and if—"
"Had n't they better be all together?" inter-
