Frank went quietly to the corner of the room and took therefrom a stick.
“Now, Pomp,” he said, “I will give you just two minutes to find the book in. If you don't find it, I shall have to give you a whipping.”
Pomp looked at his teacher to see if he was in earnest. Seeing that he was, he judged it best to find the book.
Looking into the work-box, he said innocently: “I 'clare to gracious, Mass' Frank, if it hasn't slipped down yere. Dat's mi'ty cur's, dat is.”
“Pomp, sit down,” said Frank. “I am going to talk to you seriously. What makes you tell so many lies?”
“Dunno any better,” replied Pomp, grinning.
“Yes, you do, Pomp. Doesn't your mother tell you not to lie?”
“Lor', Mass' Frank, she's poor ignorant nigger. She don't know nuffin'.”
“You mustn't speak so of your mother. She brings you up as well as she knows how. She has to work hard for you, and you ought to love her.”
“So I do, 'cept when she licks me.”