He had traveled three hundred miles, slept on the hard seat of a jolting train, eaten railroad pies and peanuts, and was covered with the grime of a dusty journey, all to whip one disobedient negro. Still, he was not out of humor, and after the whipping and lecture to his old servant he would travel back over the tiresome route and resume his business where he had left it.
His wife and sister-in-law were in the kitchen when they heard his step in the long hall. They went into the sitting-room, where he had put down his carpet-bag, and in the center of the floor stood swinging his hat and mopping his brow with his red handkerchief. He shook hands with the two women, and then sat down in his old seat in the chimney-corner.
“You want a bite to eat, an’ a cup of coffee, I reckon,” said Mrs. Pelham, solicitously.
“No, I kin wait till dinner. Whar’s Cobb?”
“I seed ’im at the wagon-shed a minute ago,” spoke up Miss Molly; “he was expectin’ you, an’ didn’t go to the field with the balance.”
“Tell ’im I want to see ‘im.”
Both of the women went out, and the overseer came in.
“Bad state of affairs, Brother Cobb,” said the planter, as he shook hands. They both sat down with their knees to the embers.
“That it is, Brother Pelham, an’ I take it you didn’t count on it any more ’n I did.”
“Never dreamt of it. Has he been doin’ any better since he heerd I was comin’ to—whip ‘im?”