He walked away, and in an instant Nat was squatting down, and going through what is known to boys as the cobbler’s hornpipe for a few moments, a triumphal terpsichorean performance, which he ended directly, and ran to the wall, ducked down head and hands, till he planted them on the stone floor, and, throwing up his heels, stood upon his head, and tapped the wall with the backs of his boots.
“Nat, come down,” cried Scarlett, laughing. “Why, what does that mean?”
“Mean, sir? Why, I feel as if I could jump out o’ my skin.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a-going along o’ you, and to show my brother Samson as we’ve got some stuff in our family.”
“But I didn’t say that you were to go.”
“No, Master Scar; but you’re going to, aren’t you?”
Scarlett was silent.
“Oh, Master Scar, sir, don’t you run back. Do, do pray take me. Ah, I see a twinkle at the corner of your mouth. You’re only teasing a fellow. I may go, sir?”
“Yes, Nat; and I’m very, very glad.”