" Just at this moment he heard his name
called by Betsey, and he hastily descended into the kitchen. At one end of
the partially-cleared table a clean plate and knife and fork had been
placed, and he was speedily helped to the remains of what the servants had
been eating.
"You mustn't be long," said Betsey, "for to-day is ironing day, and we want
the table as soon as possible."
The food was plentiful and good, but Charlie could not eat; his heart was
full and heavy,--the child felt his degradation. "Even the servants refuse
to eat with me because I am coloured," thought he. "Oh! I wish I was at
home!"
"Why don't you eat?" asked Betsey.
"I don't think I want any breakfast; I'm not hungry," was the reply.
"I hope you are not sulky," she rejoined; "we don't like sulky boys here;
why don't you eat?" she repeated.
The sharp, cold tones of her voice struck a chill into the child's heart,
and his lip quivered as he stammered something farther about not being
hungry; and he hurried away into the garden, where he calmed his feelings
and allayed his home-sickness by a hearty burst of tears. After this was
over, he wandered through the garden and fields until dinner; then, by
reading his book and by another walk, he managed to get through the day.
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