IX.
TOBY'S PATIENT HAS A CALLER.
Mr. Bythewood had now taken his departure; Salina had been intrusted with the secret; and Penn had been put to bed (as the rover correctly surmised) in the corner bedchamber.
He had been diligently plucked; as much of the tar had been removed as could be easily taken off by methods known to Stackridge and Toby, and his wounds had been dressed. And there he lay, at last, in the soothing linen, exhausted and suffering, yet somehow happy, thinking with gratitude of the friends God had given him in his sore need.
"Bress your heart, dear young massa!" said old Toby, standing by the bed (for he would not sit down), and regarding him with an unlimited variety of winks, and nods, and grins, expressive of satisfaction with his work; "ye're jest as comf'table now as am possible under de sarcumstances. If dar's anyting in dis yer world ye wants now, say de word, and ol' Toby'll jump at de chance to fetch 'em fur ye."
"There is nothing I want now, good Toby, but that you and Carl should rest. You have done everything you can—and far more than I deserve. I will try to thank you when I am stronger."
"Can't tink ob quittin' ye dis yer night, nohow, massa! Mr. Stackridge he's gone; Carl he can go to bed,—he ain't no 'count here, no way. But I'se took de job o' gitt'n you well, Mass' Penn, and I'se gwine to put it frew 'pon honor,—do it up han'some!"
And notwithstanding Penn's remonstrances, the faithful black absolutely refused to leave him. Indeed, the most he could be prevailed upon to do for his own comfort, was to bring his blanket into the room, and promise that he would lie down upon it when he felt sleepy. Whether he kept his word or not, I cannot say; but there was no time during the night when, if Penn happened to stir uneasily, he did not see the earnest, tender, cheerful black face at his pillow in an instant, and hear the affectionate voice softly inquire,—
"What can I do fur ye, massa? Ain't dar nuffin ol' Toby can be a doin' fur ye, jes' to pass away de time?"