ffing him tremendously.

Her voice grew louder every moment, so did Pomp's cries and
protestations, till I could hear every word from my hiding-place,
thoroughly enjoying of course the punishment that had fallen on the boy,
while delighted by his ruse to get the clothes back and save his father.

"Oh don't, missie; don't whop a poor lil nigger," came loudly.

"You mischievous--(_bang_!)--young--(_bang_!)--Where are those clothes?"

"No, haven't got 'em, missie; no, haven't got 'em. Oh! _oh_! Oh!"

"Don't tell me your wicked stories, sir. Tell me this moment, or master
shall know, and you shall be flogged. You have stolen them away."

"No, no, missie, Pompey nebber 'teal, no, nebber; wouldn't 'teal
notin'."

"You--(_bang_!)--have taken--(_bang_!)--those clothes away. Where are
they, sir?"

"Oh, don't whip lil nigger, missie. No got no clothes on'y lil cotton
drawers, an' lil shirtums," howled Pomp, as he was dragged into sight
now, Sarah holding on tightly by one of his ears.

"And I say you have got them, sir. Nobody else could have taken them,"
cried Sarah. "You wicked black magpie, you! Show me this instant where
you have put them, or I don't know what I won't do."

I knew what was coming; it was all plain enough. But no, not quite all;
but I did see the _denouement_ to some extent, for, as Sarah dragged the
boy forward, I could contain myself no longer.

"Oh don't, missie!" howled the young dog.

"Oh, but I will," cried Sarah. "I put poor master's uniform on that
rail to air, and--_Well_!"

"Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!"

I never laughed louder in my life, as I burst forth into quite a yell,
for there stood poor Sarah, with her mouth wide open, staring at the
uniform hanging on the rail, and then at Pomp, who looked up at her with
his face screwed up in mock agony, but his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Was dem a clothes you gone lose, missie?" he said, innocently; and
Sarah panted and looked is my direction. "Dat Massa George brass out
alarfin for you whip poor lil nigger nuffin tall."

"Oh--oh--oh!" burst forth Sarah at last, hysterically; "it's a shame--a
cruel shame, Master George, to play me such a good-for-nothing trick."

I ceased laughing directly, and my mouth opened now with astonishment at
the turn things had taken.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir," cried Sarah; "and here have
I been ill-using this poor boy because--Oh, Pompey, Pompey, Pompey!"

She caught him in her arm