“Oh, ma’am, it is only the cocks crowing.”
“Well, do step out, and hinder them from crowing at this terrible rate.”
“But, ma’am, I cannot hinder them indeed.”
“Oh yes, you could, if you were up. Get up and whip ‘em, child. Whip ‘em all round, or I shall not sleep a wink more this night.” {Footnote: Taken from life.}
How little poor Patty slept, her lady never considered: not that she was in reality an ill-natured woman, but sickness inclined her to be peevish; and she had so long been used to be humoured and waited upon by relations and servants, who expected she would leave them rich legacies, that she considered herself as a sort of golden idol, to whom all that approached should and would bow as low as she pleased. Perceiving that almost all around her were interested, she became completely selfish. She was from morning till night, from night till morning, nay, from year’s end to year’s end, so much in the habit of seeing others employed for her, that she absolutely considered this to be the natural and necessary course of things; and she quite forgot to think of the comfort, or even of the well-being, of those creatures who were “born for her use, and live but to oblige her.”
From time to time she was so far awakened to feeling, by Patty’s exertions and good-humour, that she would say, to quiet her own conscience, “Well! well! I’ll make it all up to her in my will! I’ll make it all up to her in my will!”
She took it for granted that Patty, like the rest of her dependents, was governed entirely by mercenary considerations; and she was persuaded that the hopes of this legacy would secure Patty her slave for life. In this she was mistaken.
One morning Patty came into her room with a face full of sorrow; a face so unlike her usual countenance, that even her mistress, unaccustomed as she was to attend to the feelings of others, could not help noticing the change.
“Well! What’s the matter, child?” said she.
“Oh! sad news, madam!” said Patty, turning aside to hide her tears.