“None of your insolence, Mr Bleaks,” said I; “be so good as to take yourself off and wait my orders.”
“And none of your fine airs,” replied the Mister. “We’re in a free country, and you ain’t got a nigger afore ye.”
This was rather more than I could stomach.
“Mr Bleaks,” said I, “from this hour you are no longer in my employment. Your engagement is out on the 1st of July; you shall be paid up to that date.”
“I don’t set a foot over the threshold till I have received the amount of my salary and advances,” replied the man dryly.
“Bring me your account,” said I. My blood was beginning to boil at the fellow’s cool impudence.
Bleaks called to his wife, who presently came to the room door. They exchanged a few words, and she went away again. Meanwhile I opened my portmanteau, and ran my eye over some accounts, letters, and receipts. Before I had finished, Mrs Bleaks reappeared with the account-books, which she laid upon the table, and planting herself, with arms akimbo, in the middle of the room, seemed prepared to witness whatever passed. Her husband lounged into the next apartment and brought a couple of chairs, upon which he and his better half seated themselves. Truly, thought I, our much-cherished liberty and equality have sometimes their inconveniences and disagreeables.
“The 20th December, twenty-five bales cotton, four hogsheads tobacco in leaf, delivered to Mr Merton,” began the overseer; “the 24th January, twenty-five bales cotton and one hogshead tobacco-leaves.”
“Right,” said I.
“That was our whole crop,” said the man.