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An' dere's no sayin' what might come ob seein' de fadder for we's off de scent entirely jist now." "There's little doubt of that, Peter," said Osman, pausing, and looking meditatively at the ground. "Moreober," suggested the negro, "when a man wid a cleber head an' a purswavis tongue like you tackles a t'ing, it's bery strange indeed if not'ing comes ob it."
"Yes, Geo'giana," returned Peter, with much humility, "I could suffer great deal more'n dat for your sake; but dere's no sich t'ings as little whippin's know'd ob in dis yar town. W'en de lash am goin' he usu'lly makes de hair fly. Moreober, dey whip womans as well as mans, an' if he was to took de bit out ob your pretty shoulder, I couldn't suffer dat, you know.
"I am not really dumb, you know; I have only to be dumb when in the street, or when any visitor is in the house here; but when alone with Mrs Lilly or you I am allowed to speak low." A gleam of intelligence beamed on the black girl's face as she said, "No, you's not dumb. Moreober, you's not black!" "Oh, Sally!" exclaimed Hester, in quite a frightened tone; "how did you find that out?"
You see I's not dere at de time, so can't 'zactly say. Moreober, it was bery dark, an' eben if I's dar, I couldn't see peepil in de dark." "You lie! you black scoundrel! and you know that you do. You could tell me much more about this if you chose." "No, indeed, I don't lie if a slabe may dar to counterdick his massa," returned Peter humbly.
I's wuss nor dat: I's a awrful hyperkrite! an' I wants to give you good adwice. Wotiver you doos, don't resist. You'll on'y git whacked if you do." "Thank you, Sambo. But what if I do resist in spite of being whacked?" "Den you bery soon change your mind, das all. Moreober, my name's not Sambo. It am Peter de Great."
I don't want you to break your heart before de time, an' fur dat purpus I would remind you dat while dar's life dar's hope. Moreober, you's got no notion what luck you're in. If a bad massa got hold ob you, he gib you no noo clo'es, he gib you hard, black bread 'stead o' de good grub what you gits yar.
So you cheer up, an' somet'ing sure to come ob it; an' if not'ing comes ob it, w'y, de cheerin' up hab come ob it anyhow." Foster smiled faintly at this philosophical view of his case, and did make a brave effort to follow the advice of his friend. "Das right, now, Geo'ge; you laugh an' grow fat. Moreober, you go to work now, for if massa come an' find us here, he's bound to know de reason why!
Wondering why her friend had selected for her the name if she remembered rightly of one of Blue Beard's wives, Hester bowed, and was about to speak when Dinah put her flat nose close to hers and sternly said, "Dumb." "Moreober," she continued, "you mustn't bow like a lady, or you'll be diskivered 'mediately. You must bob. Sally!" This last word was shouted.
"De back's all right now. Moreober I did deserb it, for I's an awrful sinner! Wuss dan you t'ink! Now, if you keep right up as you go, an' when you comes to de Kasba turn to de right an' keep so till you comes to de right angle ob de sout' wall. De fadder he work dar. I'll send Ali arter you, quick's I can."
"But why leave me here at all?" pleaded Hester, when Dinah had exhausted her eulogy of the hiding-place. "Why not take me to your own home?" "Cause it's not so safe as dis," answered Dinah. "P'r'aps in time you may come dere not now. Moreober, Missis Lilly is a fuss-rate creetur, most as good as myself, if her temper was a leetil more 'eavenly.
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