“Yes, sir.”
“Cut me a whip, then,—a beech one; you’ll find a good one on that sapling.”
Joe took his knife and cut from the sapling indicated a long, slender branch. He trimmed it and gave it to his father. He well knew the use to which it was to be put; and although his spirit rebelled, though he felt that he did not really deserve the punishment, he obeyed without a word.
“Joseph,” said his father, “do you remember my warning you last week not to go fishing again without my permission, and my telling you that if you did, I should whip you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I suppose you expect me to keep my word?”
Joe said nothing.
Mr. Gaston stood for another moment in anxious thought. He did not wish to whip the boy, surely. Though he was outwardly a cold man, he had all a father’s affection for Joe; but would he not fail of his duty if he did not punish him for his disobedience?
“Joseph,” he said, “can you think of any better remedy than whipping?”
“Yes, sir.”