“Because, my dear, de man wid de whip was comin’, an’ he’d bery soon hab laid it across my back,” replied the negro gently.
“And what if he had done so?” demanded Hester, with a slight touch of indignation; “could you not have suffered a little whipping for my sake?”
“Yes, Geo’giana,” returned Peter, with much humility, “I could suffer great deal more’n dat for your sake; but dere’s no sich t’ings as little whippin’s know’d ob in dis yar town. W’en de lash am goin’ he usu’lly makes de hair fly. Moreober, dey whip womans as well as mans, an’ if he was to took de bit out ob your pretty shoulder, I couldn’t suffer dat, you know. Likewise,” continued Peter, becoming more argumentative in his manner, “you was just a-goin’ to took de bit in your teef; an’ if you’d bin allowed to frow your arms round your fadder’s neck an’ rub all de black ober his face what would hab bin de consikence?”
Peter felt his position so strong at this point that he put the question almost triumphantly, and Hester was constrained to acknowledge that he had acted wisely after all.
“But,” continued she, with still a little of reproach in her tone, “what was the use of taking me to see my darling father at all, if this is all that is to come of it?”
“You’s a leetle obstropolous in you’ fancies, Geo’giana. Dis am not all what’s to come ob it. You see, I has pity on your poo’ heart, so I t’ink you might go ebery oder day an’ hab a good look at your fadder; but how kin you go if you not know whar he works? So I tooked you to show you de way. But I’s a’most sorry I did now, for you’s got no self-’straint, an’ if you goes by you’self you’ll git took up for sartin’, an’ dey’ll whip your fadder till he’s dead, or frow him on de hooks, or skin him alive, or—”
“Oh, horrible! Don’t say such dreadful things, Peter!” exclaimed Hester, covering her face with her hands.
Feeling that he had said quite enough to impress the poor girl with the absolute necessity of being careful, he promised earnestly never again to allude to such dreadful things.
“But, Geo’giana,” he added impressively, “you mus’ promise me on your word ob honour, w’ich Geo’ge Foster says English gen’lemans neber break—an’ I s’pose he’s right.”
“Yes, quite right, Peter; true gentlemen never break their word.”