Pomp, in consternation, summoned his mother, who, in turn, called in the assistance of the lady’s maid. Opportunely, at this crisis, Pomp’s other parent appeared, and he, as the only male present, proceeded to take the reins of authority into his own hands.
“Look a here, yer lazy, good-for-nuffin wagabond,” he cried, turning to Pomp and cuffing him soundly, “how dare yer stand dar a-gapin’, when yer know yer ought to be off a-lookin’ up young Missus? Yer’ll come to the gallous, some day, deed yer will.”
Pomp ran to a corner, defending his ears with his hands, and protesting, in a whining tone, that he did not know where to go.
“Yer lie, yer young scape-grace,” interrupted the irate parent. “Young Missus took der road to Uncle Lawrence’s, and dar yer’ll find her, if nuffin has happened. Go right off, not a word,” and he menacingly followed the unwillingly retreating messenger, adding, “go, or I’ll skin yer, deed I will. Maybe she’s at Aunt Chloe’s, or maybe her bridle’s broke. Take der colt, and ride for dear life,” he cried, elevating his voice louder and louder, as Pomp increased his distance.
Mrs. Warren, who had become quite hysterical, was gradually soothed by assurances that Kate had not met with any serious misadventure, and that the American cavalry, at least, had not interfered with her.
“I axed one ob de men,” said Dinah, “who was de handsum officer a ridin’ at de head; and he told me dat it was a grand furren count.”
“Do you remember his name?” said Mrs. Warren, eagerly, her face brightening. “A nobleman wouldn’t do any harm to a gentlewoman. You’re sure you’re not mistaken.”
“De blessed Lord knows I’se telling de truf,” answered Dinah. “I wouldn’t for de whole world lose my poor ole soul, by telling a lie.”
“You don’t recollect his name? Was it Pulaski? The Count Pulaski, I believe, commands a regiment of cavalry in the American army.”
“Dat’s de name. Count Poorlackey,” cried Dinah.