Indentured Servant Term Analysis

Polly wondered if Negroes from Africa had feelings and intelligent thoughts or if that gibberish they spoke was more like the scream of monkeys or the barking of dogs.

“I am Polly, and I work for Mr. Derby just like you.” She hesitated, then added, “Well, not exactly just like you. You’re a slave, which means you belong to him.”

“Slave,” the girl said clearly. Her eyes narrowed and her lips drew back fiercely over her teeth as she said the word. She knows exactly what that word means, Polly thought.

“Well, pick my peas! A white woman as a maid and a beggar! Must not be no slaves from where she come from,” Teenie commented.

“Not all white people are rich landowners,” Polly said, almost coldly. “Most white folks I know scuffle for every scrap of food they get.”

“But they ain’t slaves,” Teenie reminded her quietly.

“Do you think Mrs. Derby knows what Clay is doing?”

“She know,” Amari said angrily.

“Maybe she can help you,” Polly offered tentatively. “She seems to be very pleasant.”

“She need help herself,” Amari replied sharply.

Polly tried to understand, but she couldn’t truly fathom the depths of Myna’s apparent distress. Slave women were always called to the bedrooms of their masters—it was simply a fact of life. Myna should understand that by now and be getting used to it.