"You see, Prime," said Gladding, "the foolish fellow ain't cured yet."
"Let us insult ober his case," said Primus.
"I thought he'd got enough; but, he's as parvarse as the nine lives of a cat. Why, there was the whack at the island, and, then, the jam on the ice, and, last, the scare in the snowstorm; a fellow's unreasonable to want more, and, yet, the darn'd crittur's holding out his platter."
"What you want to put in, Missa Gladding?"
"Some of the same mess. I don't care about hurting him; but, I should like to cure him of his parsecuting ways."
"Well, you is a good cook. What you up to dis time?" said the General, grinning at the idea of more tricks.
"Colored people is celebrated for their contrivances; so, scratch your wool, and give us the benefit of your genius."
"De sheep hab no gumption," said Primus, looking grave at this allusion to his hair.
"I tell you what I want you to do," said Tom, taking no notice of Primus' gravity, and certain that the old fellow was unable to resist the temptation to a frolic; "but, don't let's stand here all day talking. Folks may suspicion something; so, push along, and I'll give you my idees."
They must have pleased the General, for, soon, his face began to brighten, and his eyes to glisten; and he parted from his companion, apparently, with the best understanding, and in the highest good humor possible.