Having broken the ice upon Seaborn, Mr. Lorriby went into the
sport of flogging him whenever he felt like it. Seaborn's revolutionary
sentiments grew deeper and stronger constantly. But he was now, of
course, hopeless of accomplishing any results himself, and he knew
that the only chance was to enlist Jeremiah Hobbes, or Mr. Bill
Williams, and make him the leader in the enterprise. Very soon,
however, one of these chances was lost. Hobbes received and accepted
an offer to become an overseer on a plantation, and Seaborn's hopes
were now fixed upon Mr. Bill alone. That also was destined soon to be
lost by the latter's prospective clerkship. Besides, Mr. Bill, being even-tempered,
and never having received and being never likely to receive
any provocation from Mr. Lorriby, the prospect of making anything out
of him was gloomy enough. In vain Seaborn raised innuendoes concerning
his pluck. In vain he tried every other expedient, even to
secretly drawing on Mr. Bill's slate a picture of a very little man
flogging a very big boy, and writing as well as he could the name
of Mr. Lorriby near the former and that of Mr. Bill near the latter.
Seaborn could not disguise himself; and Mr. Bill when he saw the
pictures informed the artist that if he did not mind what he was about
he would get a worse beating than ever Joe Larrabee gave him.
Seaborn had but one hope left, but that involved some little delicacy,
and could be managed only by its own circumstances. It might do,
and it might not do. If Seaborn had been accustomed to asking
special Divine interpositions, he would have prayed that if anything
was to be made out of this, it might be made before Mr. Bill should
leave. Sure enough it did come. Just one week before the quarter
was out it came. But I must premise the narration of this great event
with a few words.

Between Mrs. Lorriby and Miss Betsy Ann Acry the relations were
not very agreeable. Among other things which were the cause of this
were the unwarrantable liberties which Miss Acry sometimes took with

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Kate, Mrs. Lorriby's mare. Betsy Ann, in spite of all dangers (not
the least of which was that of breaking her own neck), would treat herself
to an occasional ride whenever circumstancers allowed. One day at
play-time, when Mrs. Lorriby was out upon one of her walks, which she
sometimes took at that hour, Betsy Ann hopped upon the mare, and
bantered me for a race to the spring and back. I accepted. We set
out. I beat old Kate on the return, because she stumbled and fell.
A great laugh was raised, and we were detected by Mrs. Lorriby.
Passing me, she went up to Betsy Ann, and thus spoke:

“Betsy Ann Acree, libities is libities, and horses is horses, which is
mars is mars. I have ast you not to ride this mar, which she was give
to me by my parrent father, and which she have not been rid, no, not
by Josiah Lorribee hisself, and which I have said I do not desires she
shall be spilt in her gaits, and which I wants and desires you will not
git upon the back of that mar nary nother time.”

After this event these two ladies seemed to regard each other with
even increased dislike.

Miss Betsy Ann Acry had heretofore escaped correction for any of
her shortcomings, although they were not few. She was fond of
mischief, and no more afraid of Mr. Lorriby than Mr. Bill Williams
was. Indeed, Miss Betsy Ann considered herself to be a woman, and
she had been heard to say that a whipping was something which she
would take from nobody. Mr. Lorriby smiled at her mischievous
tricks, but Mrs. Lorriby frowned. These ladies came to dislike
each other more and more. The younger, when in her frolics, frequently
noticed the elder give her husband a look which was expressive
of much meaning. Seaborn had also noticed this, and the worse
Miss Acry grew, the oftener Mrs. Lorriby came to the school. The
truth is that Seaborn had pondered so much that he at last made a
profound discovery. He had come to believe fully, and in this he was
right, that the object which the female Lorriby had in coming at all was
to protect the male. A bright thought! He communicated it to Miss
Acry, and slyly hinted several times that he believed she was afraid
of Old Red Eye, as he denominated the master's wife. Miss Acry
indignantly repelled every such insinuation, and became only the
bolder in what she said and what she did. Seaborn knew that the
Lorribys were well aware of Mr. Bill's preference for the girl, and he
intensely enjoyed her temerity. But it was hard to satisfy him that
she was not afraid of Old Red Eye. If Old Red Eye had not been

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there, Betsy Ann would have done so and so. The reason why she did
not do so and so, was because Old Red Eye was about. Alas for
human nature! — male and female. Betsy Ann went on and on, until
she was brought to a halt. The occasion was thus.

There was in the school a boy of about my own size, and a year
or two older, whose name was Martin Granger. He was somewhat of
a pitiful-looking creature — whined when he spoke, and was frequently
in quarrels, not only with the boys, but with the girls. He was suspected
of sometimes playing the part of spy and informer to the
Lorribys, both of whom treated him with more consideration than any
other pupil, except Mr. Bill Williams. Miss Betsy Ann cordially disliked
him, and she honored myself by calling me her favorite in the
whole school.

Now Martin and I got ourselves very unexpectedly into a fight.
I had divided my molasses with him at dinner-time for weeks and
weeks. A few of the pupils whose parents could afford to have that
luxury, were accustomed to carry it to school in phials. I usually ate
my part after boring a hole in my biscuit and then filling it up. I have
often wished since I have been grown that I could relish that preparation
as I relished it when a boy. But as we grow older our tastes
change. Martin Granger relished the juice even more than I. In all
my observations I have never known a person of any description who
was as fond of molasses as he was. It did me good to see him eat it.
He never brought any himself, but he used to hint, in his whining way,
that the time was not distant when his father would have a whole kegful,
and when he should bring it to school in his mother's big snuffbottle,
which was well known to us all. Although I was not so
sanguine of the realisation of this prospect as he seemed to be, yet
I had not on that account become tired of furnishing him. I only
grew tired of his presence while at my dinner, and I availed myself
of a trifling dispute one day to shut down upon him. I not only
did not invite him to partake of my molasses, but I rejected his
spontaneous proposition to that effect. He had been dividing it with
me so long that I believe he thought my right to cut him off now was
estopped. He watched me as I bored my holes and poured in and
ate, and even wasted the precious fluid. I could not consume it all.
When I had finished eating, I poured water into the phial and made
what we called “beverage.” I would drink a little, then shake it and
hold it up before me. The golden bubbles shone gloriously in the

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sun-light. I had not said a word to Martin during these interesting
operations, nor even looked towards him. But I knew that his eyes
were upon me and the phial. Just as I swallowed the last drop, his full
heart could bear no more, and he uttered a cry of pain. I turned to
him and asked him what was the matter. The question seemed to be
considered as adding insult to injustice.

“Corn deternally trive your devilish hide,” he answered, and gave
me the full benefit of his clenched fist upon my stomach. He was
afterwards heard to say that “thar was the place whar he wanted to
hit fust.” We closed, scratched, pulled hair, and otherwise struggled
until we were separated. Martin went immediately to Mr. Lorriby,
gave his version of the brawl, and just as the school was to be dismissed
for the day, I was called up and flogged without inquiry and
without explanation.

Miss Betsy Ann Acry had seen the fight. When I came to my seat,
crying bitterly, her indignation could not contain itself.

“Mr. Larribee,” she said, her cheeks growing redder, “you have
whipped that boy for nothing.”

Betsy Ann, with all her pluck, had never gone so far as this. Mr.
Lorriby turned pale and looked at his wife. Her red eyes fairly
glistened with fire. He understood it, and said to Betsy Ann in a
hesitating tone,—

“You had better keep your advice to yourself.”

“I did not give you any advice. I just said you whipped that boy
for nothing, and I said the truth.”

“Aint that advice, madam?”

“I am no madam, I thank you, sir; and if that's advice —”

“Shet up your mouth, Betsy Ann Acry.”

“Yes, sir,” said Betsy Ann, very loud, and she fastened her pretty
pouting lips together, elevated her head, inclined a little to one side,
and seemed amusedly awaiting further orders.

The female Lorriby here rose, went to her husband, and whispered
earnestly to him. He hesitated, and then resolved.

“Come here to me, Betsy Ann Acry.”

She went up as gaily as if she expected a present.

“I am going to whip Betsy Ann Acry. Ef any boy here wants to
take it for her, he can now step forrards.”

Betsy Ann patted her foot, and looked neither to the right nor to the
left, nor yet behind her.

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

When a substitute was invited to appear, the house was still as a
graveyard. I rubbed my legs apologetically, and looked up at Seaborn,
who sat by me.

“No, sir; if I do may I be dinged, and then dug up and —” I did
not listen to the remainder; and as no one else seemed disposed to
volunteer, and as the difficulty was brought about upon my own account,
and as Betsy Ann liked me and I liked Betsy Ann, I made a desperate
resolution, and rose and presented myself. Betsy Ann appeared to be
disgusted.

“I don't think I would whip that child any more to-day, if I was in
your place, especially for other folk's doings.”

“That's jest as you say.”

“Well, I say go back to your seat, Phil.”

I obeyed, and felt relieved and proud of myself. Mr. Lorriby began
to straighten his switch. Then I and all the other pupils looked at
Mr. Bill Williams.