Mass' George Part 41

"Be off! Why don't you go to work, sir?"

"Won't Ma.s.s' George come in de wood?"

"No. Be off!"

"Pomp come and have a 'wim 'long o' Ma.s.s' George?"

"No, you won't. Be off; I don't want you."

The boy looked at me aghast, and his thick lower lip worked.

"Ma.s.s' George get tire poor old Pomp?"

"Yes. Be off!"

"Ma.s.s' George send poor old Pomp 'way?"

"Yes. Don't bother. Can't you see I don't want you?"

"Wugh!" Pomp threw himself down on his face, and rested his forehead on his crossed arms.

"Don't do that," I said. "Get up, and be off, or I shall kick you."

The boy sprang up with his eyes flashing, but they were full of tears, and this gave me satisfaction, for I was in that absurd state of mind when one likes to make others feel as uncomfortable as oneself.

"Ma.s.s' George want poor ole Pomp to go away?"

"Yes," I cried; "and don't be so idiotic, you miserable little n.i.g.g.e.r, calling yourself 'poor ole Pomp!'"

"Ma.s.s' George break poor ole Pomp heart."

"I'll break poor ole Pomp's head if he bothers me any more," I cried, sulkily, as I once more leaned over the fence and began kicking off some of the dry mud which still adhered, though the leaf.a.ge above it was clear and green.

I heard Pomp draw in his breath hard, and he gave his bare foot a stamp on the ground.

"You want poor ole Pomp go drown self?"

"Yes," I said, sourly.

"Pomp go jump in de ribber."

"Go on then."

"You nebber see poor ole Pomp, nebber no more."

"Don't want to."

"Oh, Ma.s.s' George!--oh, Ma.s.s' George!"

These words came so piteously that all my ill-humour gave way to pity for the boy, who was as affectionate as he was pa.s.sionate by nature; but his next words hardened me, and I stood fast, trying to hide my mirth as he broke out in a lachrymose way, pitying himself.

"Poor lil n.i.g.g.e.r! Oh dear, dear, poor lil black n.i.g.g.e.r slave! n.o.body care dump poor ole Pomp!"

Then there was a long pause.

"You want Pomp go drown self, Ma.s.s' George?"

"Yes," I said. "Mind you don't get wet."

"Eh?"

"I say, go and have a good dry drown."

"How you do dat all?"

"I don't know. Be off."

"Poor ole Pomp! De 'gators eat um all up like lil yam."

"Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!" I burst out, for I could contain myself no longer. The comparison to the "lil yam" was too much for me, and as I faced round, good-humoured once more, and ready to go and bathe or do anything with the boy who was my only companion, he showed his teeth at me fiercely, made a run, jumped over the fence into the garden, and I saw him dash down the middle path toward the forest as hard as he could go.

I stood looking in the direction he had taken for a minute or two, and felt disposed to go after him; but I had seen him get into a temper before, and get out of it again, and I knew that next time we met all this would have pa.s.sed away from both of us like a cloud.

"No, I won't go after him," I said to myself; "it will make him vain and conceited, and he's bad enough as it is. Poor ole Pomp! Poor lil n.i.g.g.e.r! What a rum fellow he can be when he likes!"

This little episode had quite carried off the sour feeling from which I had suffered, and I began to look about me, enjoying the beauty of the morning, forgetting all about Pomp, who had, no doubt, I thought, found out a nice sunny spot and gone off to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

No one would have thought there had been a flood to have seen the garden and plantation so soon after the waters had gone down; for where the slimy mud had lain in pools, it had cracked all over till it was creased and marked like an alligator's back, through which cracks the tender green growth soon thrust itself, to spring up at a wondrous rate, as if glad to be fertilised by the soft alluvial soil.

Wherever the mud had lain thick on broad leaf or gra.s.s, it had, as I have said, cracked and fallen off, or been washed away by the heavy rains and dews, and our grounds and the country round were as beautiful as ever--more beautiful, I ought to say, for everything was fresher and greener, and where the swamps had been muddy and parched, and overhung with dry growth, all was bright and glorious, with the pools full up, and the water-ways overhung with mossy drapery, glittering and flashing back the sun's rays wherever the sun pierced the trees.

"Going for a walk, Master George?" said Morgan that morning, as I sauntered down the garden in the hot sunshine, wondering what I should do with myself.

"Yes," I said, eagerly, for the question had given me the idea I wanted.

Yes, I would go for a walk.

"Better be careful, my lad. I would not overheat myself. After all this flooding there may be fever in the air. But there, you will take care of yourself."

"Yes, Morgan," I said, "I'll try. Seen Pomp anywhere?"

"No; not since breakfast. A lazy young dog. Make his father do all the work. What's that, sir?"

We both looked sharply round toward the forest, for there was the faint rustle of something moving, but the sound ceased as he spoke.