“Now, Toney, you black scamp, what say you, you lazy villain, why I shouldn’t give you fifteen lashes across your back, as hard as I can draw?”
“Stop, old Mass,” said Toney; “dar’s de work in de garden, Sir—dat ought to tek off some.”
“You black dog,” said the Captain, “havn’t I given you the proper credit of ten stripes for that? Come, come!”
“Please, old Massa,” said Toney, rolling his eyes about in agony of fright, “dar’s—you forgot—dar’s de scourin’ ob de floor—old missus say e nebber been scour as good before.”
“Soho, you saucy rascal,” quoth Captain Stick; “you’re bringing in more off-sets, are you? Well, now, there!”—here the Captain made an entry upon his book—“you have a credit of five stripes and the balance must be paid.”
“Gor a mity, Massa, don’t hit yet—dar’s sumpen else—oh, Lord! please don’t—yes, Sir—got um now—ketchin’ de white boy and fetchin’ um to ole missus, what trow rock at de young duck.”
“That’s a fact,” said the Captain, “the outrageous young vagabond!—that’s a fact, and I’ll give you credit of ten stripes for it—I wish you had brought him to me—now we’ll settle the balance.”
“Bress de Lord, ole Massa,” said Toney, “dat’s all!”
Toney grinned extravagantly.
The Captain adjusted his tortoise-shell spectacles with great exactness, held the book close to his eyes, and ascertained that the fact was as stated by Toney. He was not a little irritated.