“I think they are my own kind, ma’am. That is how they know me, and do what I want them to do.”
“Stay with us,” said the woman coaxingly, still speaking low. “You’ll have plenty of your fellow-creatures about you then!”
“Thank you, ma’am, a thousand times!” answered Clare, his face beaming; “but I couldn’t leave poor Nimrod to do those men a mischief, and be killed for it!”
“You’d have plenty to eat and drink, and som’at for your pocket!” persisted the woman.
“I know I should have everything I wanted!” answered Clare, “and I’m very thankful to you, ma’am. But you see there’s always something, somehow, that’s got to be done before the other thing!”
Here the master came up. He had himself been thinking the boy would be a great acquisition, and guessed what his wife was about; but he was afraid she might promise too much for services that ought to be had cheap. Few scruple to take advantage of the misfortune of another to get his service cheap. It is the economy of hell.
“I sha’n’t feel safe till that bull of yours is a mile off!” he said.
“Come along, Nimrod!” answered Clare, always ready with the responsive deed.
Away went Nimrod, gentle as a lamb.