“Quarrel? No! What should I want to quarrel for?”
“But why did you leave?”
“’Cause I liked. Man ain’t a slave, is he?”
“I am glad you’re here, though, Ike,” I cried.
“Not you,” he said sourly, as he thrust and chopped and levelled the soil.
“Indeed but I am,” I cried. “Yes, sir, coming,” I shouted, for I heard Mr Solomon asking for me.
I went to him, and he set me to water the pots that had been plunged under the big wall; but on going to the pump in the middle of the big walk, where the well was that we used for this garden, I found the handle swing loosely up and down.
I went and told Mr Solomon that there was no water to be had there.
“I thought as much!” he cried angrily. “I saw those boys jerking the handle about yesterday. Here, Bunce!”
Bunce was sent off with a message, and I went about some other task, glad to find that Ike was there at work, for somehow I liked him, though I did not know why, since he was always very gruff and snappish with me. But still it seemed as if he had come to Hampton because I was there.