Again there was a minute’s silence. Then the father said, “Joseph, I had intended to whip you; but it’s a hard and unpleasant duty, and I’m inclined to try you once more without it, if you’ll apologize and make a new promise not to go fishing again without my permission.”
“I’ll apologize,” replied Joe, “but I won’t promise.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause you wouldn’t give me your permission, and then I’d break the promise. That’s the way it always goes.”
“Very well; you may take your choice,—either the promise or the whipping. I can’t argue with you about it.”
Joe was excited and angry. He did not take time to think, but answered hotly that his father could whip him if he wished. Mr. Gaston tested the whip, cutting the air with it once or twice. It made a cruel sound.
“I want you to remember, after it is over,” he said slowly, “that it was your choice, and not my pleasure. Stand out here, and turn your back to me.”
Joe’s chastisement followed. It was a severe one. The pain was greater than Joe had expected. The shock of the first blow was still fresh when the second one came, and this was followed up by half-a-dozen more in rapid succession.
“Now,” said the father, when it was over, throwing the whip aside, “you may go back to the cornfield and go to work.”
Without a word, and indeed with mind and heart too full for utterance, the boy shouldered his hoe and started back up the hill. Mr. Gaston, taking a path which skirted the field, walked slowly toward home. His mind too was filled with conflicting emotions.