Long before their flight was discovered Hester Sommers and Dinah had penetrated into a dense thicket, where the negress proceeded to produce a wonderful metamorphosis.

 

“Now, my dear,” she said, hastily undoing a large bundle which she carried, while Hester, panting and terrified, sat down on the grass beside her, “don’t you be frighted. I’s your fri’nd. I’s Dinah, de sister ob Peter de Great, an’ de fri’nd also ob Geo’ge. So you make your mind easy.”

 

“My mind is quite easy,” said Hester; “and even if you were not Peter’s sister, I’d trust you, because of the tone of your kind voice. But who is Geo’ge?”

 

Dinah opened her eyes very wide at this question, for Peter had already enlightened her mind a little as to the middy’s feelings towards Hester.

 

“You not know Geo’ge?” she asked.

 

“Never heard of him before, Dinah.”

 

“Geo’ge Foster?”

 

“Oh, I understand! It was your way of pronouncing his name that puzzled me,” returned the girl, with a faint smile. “I’m glad you are his friend, too, poor fellow!”

 

“Well, you is a babby!” exclaimed Dinah, who had been mixing up what appeared to be black paint in a wooden bowl. “Now, look yar, don’t you be frighted. It’s a matter ob life an’ deaf, you know, but I’s your fri’nd! Jest you do zackly what I tells you.”

 

“Yes, Dinah,” said Hester, alarmed, notwithstanding, by the earnestness and solemnity of her new friend, “what am I to do?”

 

“You come yar, an’ don’t moob whateber I does to you. Dere, I’s goin’ to make you a nigger!”

 

She applied a large brush to Hester’s forehead, and drew it thence down her left cheek, under her chin, up the right cheek, and back to the starting point, thus producing a black band or circle two inches broad.

 

“Now shut your bootiful eyes,” she said, and proceeded to fill up the circle.

 

In a quarter of an hour Hester was as black as the ace of spades—neck, hands, and arms, as well as face—her fair hair was effectually covered and concealed by a cotton kerchief, and then her dress was changed for the characteristic costume of negro women.

 

“Now your own mudder wouldn’t know you,” said Dinah, stepping back to survey her work, and, strange to say, putting her black head quite artistically a little on one side. “You’s a’most as good-lookin’ as myself—if you was on’y a little fatter. Now, mind, you’s a dumb gal! Can’t speak a word. Don’t forgit dat. An’ your name’s Geo’giana. Come along.”

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