"Yes, whar was you?" Jimmy Phoebus shouted, with one of his Greek
paroxysms of temper on, as his dark skin and black-cherry eyes flamed
volcanic. "Whar did you leave Ellenora's boy and that infernal
soul-buyer? Speak, or I'll throttle you like this dog!"
"You let him alone, sir!" little Roxy cried, hotly, "he won't deceive
anybody; he's going to tell all he knows."
"Let go, Jimmy," Samson said; "don't you see Miss Vesty heah?"
"Don't scare the man, Mr. Phoebus," Vesta added; "but I command him to
tell all that he knows, or papa shall commit him to jail."
Jack Wonnell, taking his place some steps away from Phoebus, and
wiping his eyes on his sleeve, whimpering a few minutes, to Roxy's great
agitation, finally told his tale.
"I'm sorry, Jimmy, you accused me before this beautiful lady an' my
purty leetle Roxy--bless her soul!--of stealing Jedge Custis's niggers.
Thair's on'y one I ever looked sheep's eyes at, an' she's a-standin'
here, listenin' to every true word I says. I'm pore trash, an' I reckon
the jail's as good as the pore-house for me, ef they want to send me
thair, fur it's in town, and Roxy kin come an' look through the bars at
me every day."
Roxy was so much affected that she threw her apron up to her face, and
Vesta and Phoebus had to smile, while Samson Hat, looking indulgently
on, exclaimed,
"Dar's love all froo de woods. Doves an' crows can't help it.
Pages:
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303