"Ef you leave me 'hine you, Marse George, you ain' fin' no Billy when you gits back."
"How is that?" asked George.
"'Kase I gwi' starve myself. I ain' gwi' teck nuttin' to eat, nor a drap o' water—I jes gwi' starve twell I die."
George laughed at this, knowing Billy to be an unconscionable eater ordinarily, and did not for a moment take him in earnest. Billy, however, for some reason understood that he was to be left at Greenway Court. George noticed, two or three days afterwards, that the boy seemed ill, and so weak he could hardly move. He asked about it, and Billy's reply was very prompt.
"I 'ain' eat nuttin' sence I knowed you warn' gwi' teck me wid you, Marse George."
"But," said George, in amazement, "I never said so."
"Is you gwi' teck mo?" persisted Billy.
"I don't know," replied George, puzzled by the boy. "But is it possible you have not eaten anything since the day you asked me about it?"
"Naw, suh," said Billy, coolly. "An' I ain' gwi' eat twell you say I kin go wid you. I done th'ow my vittles to de horgs ev'ry day sence den—an' I gwi' keep it up, ef you doan' lem me go."
George was thunderstruck. Here was a case for discipline, and he was a natural disciplinarian. But where Billy was concerned George had a very weak spot, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that the simple, ignorant, devoted fellow might actually do as he threatened. Therefore he promised, in a very little while, that Billy should not be separated from him—at which Billy got up strength enough to cut the pigeon-wing, and then made a bee-line for the kitchen. George followed him, and nearly had to knock him down to keep him from eating himself ill. Lord Fairfax could not refrain from laughing when George, gravely, and with much ingenuity in putting the best face on Billy's conduct, told of it, and George felt rather hurt at the Earl's laughing; he did not like to be laughed at, and people always laughed at him about Billy, which vexed him exceedingly.