"Now, Jupiter, look here; you go right off and saddle Mignonne, or it'll be the worse for you. D'ye hear?"
"Miss Roarer, I 'clare for't I dassent. Mas'r'll half kill me."
"And I'll whole kill you if you don't," said Gipsy, with a wild flash of her black eyes, as she sprang lightly on a high stone bench, and raised her riding-whip over the head of the trembling darkey; "go, sir; go right off and do as I tell you!"
"Laws! I can't—'deed chile! I can't——"
Whack! whack! whack! with no gentle hand went the whip across his shoulders, interrupting his apology.
"There, you black rascal! will you dare to disobey your mistress again!" Whack! whack! whack!" If you don't bring Mignonne out this minute, I'll shoot you dead as a mackerel! There; does that argument overcome your scruples?" whack! whack! whack!
With something between a yell and a howl, poor Jupiter sprung back, and commenced rubbing his afflicted back.
"Will you go?" demanded Gipsy, raising her whip once more.
"Yes! yes! Who ever did see such a 'bolical little limb as dat ar. Ole mas'r'll kill me, I knows he will," whimpered poor Jupiter as he slunk away to the stables, closely followed by his vixenish little mistress, still poising the dangerous whip.
Mignonne, a small, black, fleet-footed, spirited Arabian, was led forth, pawing the ground and tossing his head, as impatient to be off, even, as his young mistress.