"I'll go in and see if I can't get it out of her," said Miss Jane.
"Wait awhile, Jane, maybe she will, after a little reflection, agree to tell the truth about it."
"Never," said Miss Jane, "a nigger will never tell the truth till it is beat out of her." So saying she took the key from Miss Tildy, and bade me follow her. I had rather she had told me to hang myself.
When she unlocked the door, I dared not look in. My eyes were riveted to the ground until I heard Miss Jane say:
"Get up, you hussy."
There, lying on the ground, more like a heap of clotted gore than a human being, I beheld the miserable Amy.
"Why don't she get up?" inquired Miss Jane. I did not reply. Taking the cowhide, she gave her a severe lick, and the wretch cried out, "Oh, Lord!"
"The Lord won't hear a liar," said Miss Jane.
"Oh, what will 'come of me?"
"Death, if you don't confess what you did with the forks."