Mr. Pelham had no reply forthcoming. He realized that he was simply not going to whip Uncle Henry, and he did not want to appear ridiculous in the eyes of his friends. The negro saw by his master’s silence that he was going to escape punishment, and that made him more humble and sympathetic than ever. He was genuinely sorry for his master.
“You have done told ’em all you was goin’ to whip me, I know, Marse Jasper; but why don’t you jest let ’em think you done it? I don’t keer, jest so I kin keep my word. Lucinda ain’t a-goin’ to believe I’d take it, nohow.”
At this loophole of escape the face of the planter brightened. For a moment he felt like grasping Henry’s hand: then a cloud came over his face.
“But,” he demurred, “what about yore future conduct? Will you mind what Cobb tells you?”
“I jest can’t do that, Marse Jasper. Me ’n him jest can’t git along together. He ain’t no man at all.”
“Well, what on earth am I to do? I’ve got to have an overseer, an’ I’ve got to go back to North Carolina.”
“You don’t have to have no overseer fer me, Marse Jasper. Have I ever failed to keep a promise to you, Marse Jasper?”
“No; but I can’t be here.”
“I ’ll tell you what I ’ll do, Marse Jasper. Would you be satisfied with my part of the work if I tend all the twenty-acre piece beyond my cabin, an’ make a good crop on it, an’ look after all the cattle an’ stock, an’ clear the woodland on the hill an’ cord up the firewood?”
“You couldn’t do it, Henry.”