"No winking and
blinking-it's tip-top stuff," enjoins M'Fadden; "don't get it every
day."
Mr. M'Fadden will take a little himself. "Glad to find ye here, all
straight!" he mutters, taking the flask from his mouth. He had
returned the receipt to his property; and, having gratified his
appetite a little, he begins to take a more perspective view of his
theological purchase.
"Yes, master; I am here!" He again holds up his chained hands, drops
his face upon his knees; as much as to say, be sure I am all safe
and sound.
Looking at the receipt again, and then at his preacher, "Guess
'hain't made a bad rap on ye' to-day!" he ejaculates, taking out his
pocket-book and laying away the precious paper as carefully as if it
were a hundred dollar note. "Should like to have bought your old
woman and young 'uns, but hadn't tin enough. And the way stock's up
now, ain't slow! Look up here, my old buck! just put on a face as
bright and smooth as a full moon-no sulkin'. Come along here."
The manacled preacher turns upon his hands, gets up as best he
can-M'Fadden kindly assists by taking hold of his shoulder-and
follows his purchaser to the platform,--like a submissive animal
goaded to the very flesh, but chained, lest it make some show of
resentment. "Good heap o' work in ye', old chuck; had a master what
didn't understand bringing on't out, though!" mutters M'Fadden, as
he introduces Harry to the negro car, at the same time casting a
look of satisfaction at the brakeman standing at his left hand ready
to receive the freight.
Pages:
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391