Pete. O, mistis! Heh, mistis!
Mrs. Secord. What now, Pete?
Pete. Oh, mistis, dat yar sergeant ossifer—
Dat sassy un what call me "Woolly-bear."
An' kick my shin, he holler 'crass to me:—
"You, Pete, jes' you go in, an' tell Ma'am Secord
I'se comin' in ter supper wiv some frens."
He did jes' so—a sassy scamp.
Mrs. Secord. To-night? At this hour?
Pete. Yes, mistis; jes', jes' now. I done tell Flos
[!-- Begin Page 17 --] Ter put her bes' leg fus', fer I mus' go
An' ten' dat poo', sick hoss.
Mrs. Secord. Nay, you'll do nothing of the kind! You'll stay
And wait upon these men. I'll not have Flos
Left single-handed by your cowardice.
Pete. I aint a coward-ef I hed a club;
Dat poo', sick hoss—
Mrs. Secord. Nonsense! Go call me Flos, and see you play no tricks to-night.
Pete. No, mistis, no; no tricks. [Aside. Ef I'd a club!]
He calls from the door: Flos! Flos! Ma'am Secord wants ye.