“I don’t wonder yer laugh, if she does that way, chile.”
"But that isn’t all," added Nelly indignantly. “She chews paper-balls, and sends them over the room, right at the tip of my nose. Sometimes they stick there a second or so, till I can put up my hand; and then the scholars giggle-like. Oh, you’ve no idea, Comfort, what an awful girl Melindy is. She punches me, too.”
“Punches, Nelly?”
“Yes, and to-day, when school was out, she gave me such a whack,—right in my ribs; shall I show you how, Comfort?”
“No, thank yer,” answered the old woman, laughing. She had a cause for being good-humored that day. “But why whack such a little critter as you be, Nell?”
“Oh,” said Nelly, hesitating, “she knows.”
Something in her manner made Comfort suspicious. She sat down and called Nelly to her. Taking hold of both her hands, she looked her full in the eyes.
“Speak the truff,” she said; “didn’t yer whack Melindy fust?”
“Yes,” said Nell, with a curious mixture of honesty and triumph, “I did, Comfort; I gave her a good one, I tell you! I didn’t stop to think about what I was doin’ till I felt her whackin’ o’ me back again.”
“Then she sarved yer right,” said the old colored woman, going back to her fish, “and I hope she’ll treat yer so every time yer begin the aggrawation.”