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Updated: June 5, 2025
The boy looked scornfully down on his father. Standing on his naked feet, he already towered half a head above the other and was twice the man. "D'yo' think I'm fear'd o' a thrashin' fra yo'? Goo' gracious me!" he sneered. "Why, I'd as lief let owd Grammer Maddox lick me, for all I care." A reference to his physical insufficiencies fired the little man as surely as a lighted match powder.
"Yes," sez I, "when I foller a thrashin' machine, Josiah Allen, or load a hay rack it will look uneeker than will ever take place on this planet, I can tell you to once."
I remember, also, hoo ye was aye a greater favourite wi' her than Jamie, and hoo he challenged ye to fecht him for her affections, and o'ercam' ye in the battle, and sent ye to the school next day wi' yer face a' disfigured and I, as in duty bound, gied each o' ye a heartier thrashin than ye had gien ane anither.
I teuk and throosh them baith." "An' what cam' o' the image o' the Almichty?" asked Tibbie, with a grotesque contortion of her mouth, and a roll of her veiled eyeballs. "I doobt, Thamas," she continued, "ye angert yersel' mair nor ye quaietit them wi' the thrashin'. The wrath o' man, ye ken, Thamas, worketh not the richtyisness o' God."
"You've ce'tainly relieved my mind," murmured Clay lazily. "What's yore own notion of what I ought to do to you, Bromfield? You invited me out as a friend and led me into a trap after you had fixed it up. Wouldn't a first-class thrashin' with a hawsswhip be about right?" Bromfield turned pale. "I've got a weak heart," he faltered. "I'll say you have," agreed Clay.
Here it is broad daylight, and that fire not built. I vum, sir, you need a thrashin', the whole kit an bilun' of ye; yessir! Come, come, come! hustle now, stir your boots! hustle y'r boots ha! ha! ha!" It was of no use to plead cold weather and damp chips. "What has that got to do with it, sir? I vum, sir, when I was your age, I could make a fire of green red-oak; yessir!
Boys was thrashin' on the place, and the beltin' kept a-troublin' and delayin' of 'em and I was potterin' round in the way anyhow, tel finally they sent me off to town to git some whang-luther and ribbets, and while I was in, I thought I thought I'd jest run over and see the Jedge about that Henry County matter; and as I was knockin' round the court-house, first thing I knowed I'll be switched to death ef they didn't pop me on the jury!
And she's got our hearts so 't they'd almost stop beatin' if she told 'em to. She's ridden on a load o' hay many a time, and has gone to the wheat-field to help us with the thrashin'. And she's comin' home next Saturday, Stone." He stopped again, and I knew that he was thinking. Presently he arose, and stretched his arms with a yawn. "You'll like her, Stone, if you're a human. Good-night."
"Been a good boy to-day?" "Yep," answered the baby in muffled tones. He looked up at his foster-father cunningly. "You won't t'rash me w'en I been a good boy, will yeh?" "Bless the baby's heart! Who'd talk o' thrashin' you?" roared the big man. "If any fellow lifts a finger to you, you let daddy know an' an' he'll bash their heads in for them!" he added explosively.
Suddenly changing his tone, he went on: "What's your name?" "Alec Forbes." "Alec Forbes. I'll try to remember it. I seldom remember anybody's name, though. I sometimes forget my own. What was the fellow's name you thrashed the other day?" "Patrick Beauchamp. I did not mention it before." "The deevil it was!" exclaimed Mr Cupples, half-starting from his seat. "Did ye gie him a richt thrashin'?"
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