“Geo’giana,” she said, “if you gibs way, or speaks, or trembles, or busts up in any way, I grips you by de neck, as I once did before, an’ shobes you along wid scolds and whacks—so you look out!”
“Anxiety for my darling father will be a much more powerful restraint, Sally, than your threats,” replied the poor girl.
Nevertheless, the threat was not without its effect, for it showed Hester that she must have been on the point of giving way, and impressed on her more than ever the necessity of self-restraint.
“W’ich am him? I don’t see him,” said the negress as they advanced.
“There he is, don’t you see, just before us,” replied Hester, in a low, hurried voice.
“No, I’s growin’ blind, I t’ink.”
“There—look! by himself, on the stone. He seems always to sit on the same spot at dinner-time.”
“Oh yes, I sees. Now you go on—stiddy. Mind what you’s about!”
With a brief prayer for help to control herself, Hester went straight to where her father sat. He was languidly chewing a piece of the regulation black bread at the time, and looked up at her with the vacant indifference born of despair.
The desire to fall on his neck and kiss him was, need we say, almost irresistible, but the poor girl had received strength for the duty in hand. She went close to him—even brushed past him—and dropped the biscuits into his lap.