"Reckon I'll go in an' go ter sleep," said Alston: "got ter git up early in
the mawnin'."

He _was_ up early the next morning, he and Little Lizay being again in the
cotton-field before dawn. All through the day there was, as before,
persistent devotion to the picking; then the holding on after dusk for one
more pound; the same result at night--the man up to the required figure,
the woman behind, this time forty-one pounds behind. Again she received a
cowhiding at Alston's hands.

"What yer mean by this yere foolin'?" Mr. Buck demanded in a rage of Little
Lizay. "Yer reckon I's gwine ter stan' this yere? Two hunderd an'
fawty-seven 'gin two hunderd an' six! It's all laziness an' mulishness.
I'll git yer outen that thar' notch, else I'll kill yer. Look yere:
ter-morrer, ef yer don't come ter taw, I'll give yer twict es many licks es
the poun's yer falls behin'."

Did this threat frighten Little Lizay out of her devotion?

"Two hunderd is 'nuff fer a little gal like yer," Alston said the next
morning. "Save my life, I can't pick no more'n a hunderd an' a few poun's
mo'. I wouldn't stan' ter be flogged ef I'd done my shar'."

"Got ter stan' it--can't he'p myse'f."

"I'd go ter town an' tell Mos' Hawton. I's tolerbul sho' he wouldn't 'low
yer ter git twict es many licks, nohow. Mos' Hawton's tolerbul good ter his
black folks, ain't he?"

"Yes, tolerbul--to the house-sarvants he's got in town; but he jist goes