Miss Nannie'd let him, he'd string them niggers of hers up, and wallop their gizzards out of 'em. I hate these Abolitioners. I knows 'em,—I knows their pedigree."
"Much you know about 'em," said Phillis, who was shaking the dew drops off her "morning glory."
"I knows enuff of 'em—I reckon Miss Nannie do, about dis time. De ole gentleman did right, any how, when he lef 'em all to her—if he hadn't, dat feller would a sold 'em all off to Georgia 'fore this, and a runn'd off wid de money."
"Well," said Phillis, "you'd better mind your own affairs; come in and eat your breakfast, if you want any, for I aint going to keep it standin there all day, drawing the flies."
Bacchus kicked his slippers off and stumbled into a chair beside the table. "I'll swar," said he, after a glance at the fried ham and eggs, "if ever a man had to eat sich cookin as dis. Why didn't you fry 'em a little more?" Phillis not minding him, he condescended to eat them all, and to do justice to the meal in general.
"The old fool," thought Phillis, amused and provoked; "talkin of master's pilferin—never mind, I've put his ruffled shirt out, and he'll get in a good humor when he sees it, I reckon."
Having finished his breakfast, Bacchus put an enormous piece of tobacco in his mouth, and commenced sharpening a small-sized scythe, that he called a razor. In doing so, he made a noise like a high-pressure steamboat, now and then breathing on it, and going in a severe fit of coughing with every extra exertion. On his table was a broken piece of looking-glass, on the quicksilver side of which, Arthur had, when a child, drawn a horse. Into this Bacchus gave a look, preparatory to commencing operations. Then, after due time spent in lathering, he hewed down at each shave, an amount of black tow that was inconceivable.
