“You’re very kind!” said the bound boy sarcastically, in spite of his gentleness.
“Of course I am,” blustered Andrew Jackson. “Most boys wouldn’t be, after the way you treated me.”
“You want the satisfaction of having me beg your pardon,” said Bill, looking full in the face of the petty despot.
“Yes, I do; and I mean to have it.”
“You can, upon one condition.”
“What’s that?” asked Andrew Jackson, his curiosity overcoming his indignation.
“If you’ll beg my pardon for striking me with your whip, I’ll beg yours for hitting you with the hoe.”
Andrew fairly gasped for breath at this daring proposal, and he looked for a moment as if he were in danger of having a stroke of apoplexy.
“You saucy beggar!” he ejaculated. “How dare you talk to me in that impertinent way? I’ll tell father to give you the worst flogging ever you had to-night—see if I don’t!”
And the boy left to report Bill’s new insolence to his mother.