"Bold," said Cludde huskily, "you've returned good for evil. You don't want my thanks; you hate me."
"I wonder if I do," I said, and pondering the matter, I came to the conclusion that I rather despised than hated him; but I did not tell him so. "How did you come to this strait?" I asked him.
"I came up to see Lucy, and happened to arrive just after that nigger had been caught. Vetch was flogging him, told me he was an insolent and lazy scoundrel, and I agreed he ought to be taught a lesson--"
"Even if it killed him," I interrupted.
"Why, he's only a black fellow," said Cludde.
"And black fellows are flesh and blood, like you and me."
"But they haven't our feelings; come now, you won't say that?"
I would not argue with: him, and he went on--"I came to the house, and Lucy refused to see me. I hated you then, Bold; Vetch told me that you had been up, and I guessed you had put a spoke in my wheel."
"I never saw Mistress Lucy," I said.
"What? Why, Vetch told me that you had proposed to her, and been sent away with a flea in your ear."