Dr. G. You’ve made a pretty muss of it, in my absence. Look at the table! Never mind, Cato; I’ll whip you well for this conduct of yours to-day. Go to work now, and clear up the office.
[Exit Dr. Gaines, R.
Cato. Confound dat nigger! I wish he was in Ginny. He bite my finger and scratch my face. But didn’t I give it to him? Well, den, I reckon I did. [He goes to the mirror, and discovers that his coat is torn—weeps.] Oh, dear me! Oh, my coat—my coat is tore! Dat nigger has tore my coat. [He gets angry, and rushes about the room frantic.] Cuss dat nigger! Ef I could lay my hands on him, I’d tare him all to pieces,—dat I would. An’ de ole boss hit me wid his cane after dat nigger tore my coat. By golly, I wants to fight somebody. Ef ole massa should come in now, I’d fight him. [Rolls up his sleeves.] Let ’em come now, ef dey dare—ole massa, or any body else; I’m ready for ’em.
Enter Dr. Gaines, R.
Dr. G. What’s all this noise here?
Cato. Nuffin’, sir; only jess I is puttin’ things to rights, as you tole me. I didn’t hear any noise except de rats.
Dr. G. Make haste, and come in; I want you to go to town.
[Exit Dr. Gaines, R.
Cato. By golly, de ole boss like to cotch me dat time, didn’t he? But wasn’t I mad? When I is mad, nobody can do nuffin’ wid me. But here’s my coat, tore to pieces. Cuss dat nigger! [Weeps.] Oh, my coat! oh, my coat! I rudder he had broke my head den to tore my coat. Drat dat nigger! Ef he ever comes here agin, I’ll pull out every toof he’s got in his head—dat I will.