“Yes'm.”
“You can't keep your word.”
“No'm.”
“I don't know what to do now, so I'm going to ask you.”
She paused and Chris was silent, but he was thinking, and she waited. Presently he looked straight into her eyes, still silent.
“What do you think I'd better do?” she insisted.
“I reckon you got to whoop me, Miss Hildy.”
“But you know I can't whip you, Chris. I never whip anybody.”
Several times a child had offered to whip himself, had done so, and she wondered whether the boy would propose that, but he repeated, obstinately and hopelessly:
“You got to whoop me.”