“Ben,” said his mother, still looking at him through her specs, “you must be a fool; give him some buttermilk, Harriet.”
There was silence for some time, and then father said:
“Ben, do you ever catch any fish, now?”
“Yes, sir; I ketched a cat ‘tother day, big as a bucket.”
“Caught a cat, eh,” said father, setting aside his coffee, and drawing the tea to him. “You must have baited with a mouse.”
“Nor, sir, I baited with a worrum. Cats bites at worrums fine.”
Lulie could restrain her curiosity no longer, but asked, with all earnestness, if it was a real cat, with tail, claws and all.
Ben gave a great many long grunts as he said, “Sho’, its got a tail, but tain’t got no claws, ‘cause its a fish.”
“Oh!” said Lulie, with her hand to her mouth, and a glance at me.
I ventured to ask if there were many squirrels on the plantation.