"I pit it to yoursel', Miss Celie, can a man do mair than that?"
And with no further word, Cleaver's boy dusted the drops from the knees of his breeches, and sat down to write six more lines of "Kindness to dumb animals is a sign of nobility of character."
But next night he came to Celie in the blackness of despair.
"I will hae to resign, after all, Miss Celie," he said, "I canna bide here to be a disgrace to ye a'."
"Why, what's the matter, James?" said Miss Tennant, who did not yet know everything; "are the girls going to prosecute you in the police court for throwing the water over them last night?"
Cleaver's boy opened his mouth in astonishment and kept it so for some time.
"Prosecute me?—I wish to peace they wad!" cried he, after he got his breath. "Na, faith, Miss Celie; will ye believe me, they are fonder o' me than ever. They were baith waitin' for me at the stairfit this mornin' when I cam doon to gang to the shop."
And Miss Celie again believed him.