"'Master,' said I, taking off my hat to him one morning, 'there is nothing more I can do for him who is gone; so I am thinking I would like to be for myself now, if you please.'
"'For yourself, you black rascal?' said my new master, laughing in my face.
"I wasn't used to being spoken to in that way, and it cut. But I kept down that which swelled up in here"—Pomp laid his hand on his heart—"and reminded him, respectfully as I could, of the doctor's last words about me, and of his promise.
"'You fool!' said he, 'do you think I was in earnest?'
"'If you were not,' said I, 'the doctor was.'
"'And do you think,' said he, 'that I am to be bound by the last words of a man too far gone to know his own mind in the matter?'
"'He always meant I should have my freedom,' I answered him, 'and always said so.'
"'Then why didn't he give it to you before, instead of requiring me to make such a sacrifice? Come, come, Pomp!' he patted my shoulder; 'you are altogether too valuable a nigger to throw away. Why, people say you know almost as much about medicine as my brother did. You'll be an invaluable fellow to have on a plantation; you can doctor the field hands, and, may be, if you behave yourself, get a chance to prescribe for the family. Come, my boy, you musn't get foolish ideas of freedom into your head; they're what spoil a nigger, and they'll have to be whipped out of you, which would be too bad for a fine, handsome darkey like you.'
"He patted my shoulder again, and looked as pleasant and flattering as if I had been a child to be coaxed,—I, as much a man, every bit, as he!" said Pomp, with a gleam of pride. "I could have torn him like a tiger for his insolence, his heartless injustice. But I repressed myself; I knew nothing was to be gained by violence.
"'Master,' said I, 'what you say is no doubt very flattering. But I want what my master gave me—what you promised that I should have—I shall be contented with nothing else.'