“Yes,” I said; “our boy Pompey.”
“Oh! Shouldn’t hardly have thought it. Looks like a bit o’ the black night out for a walk in a pair o’ white cotton drawers.”
“Him laugh at Pomp,” said the boy, as we went on.
“Yes; it was only his fun.”
“But what um mean ’bout de dark night in cottum drawer?”
“Oh, nothing. Nonsense!”
“Yes, nonsense; Pomp know better. Night can’t wear cottum drawer. All ’tuff.”
“Hush! Don’t talk so loud.”
“Den why say dat, an’ make fun ob poor lil nigger? I know dat man. Wait bit; I make fun ob him, an’ Mass’ George an’ me laugh den.”
“Will you be quiet, Pomp?”