plantation. She's goin' ter ax her moster ter sell her an' the childun to
Mos' Hawton, and I's waitin' ter fin' out ef he'll sell 'um. I ain't goin'
ter cou't no other gal tell I fin's out."

"Yer hopes he'll sell her, don't yer?" Little Lizay asked with an anxious
heart.

"She wus a mighty good wife," said Alston, without committing himself by a
categorical answer. "Would seem like Ol' Virginny ter have her an' the
childun, but they's better off thar'. They couldn't pick cotton, I reckon.
Her moster an' mistiss thinks a heap uv her: she's one the cooks. I don't
reckon they kin spaw her."

"Don't yer, sho' 'nuff?"

"No, I don't reckon they kin, 'cause one Mis' Minor's cooks is gittin' ol'
an' can't see good--Aunt Juno. She wucks up flies an' sich into the cawn
bread. They wants ter put my wife into her place, but they can't git shet
with Aunt Juno: she's jis' boun' she'll do the white folks' cookin'. She
says thar' ain't no use in bein' free ef she can't do what she pleases:
they set her free Chrismus 'fo' las'. But law, Lizay! we mus' hurry up an'
get ter pickin'."

That night Lizay had gained on her basket of the preceding day by five and
a half pounds, and Alston had fallen behind his by four. But as he was
still over a hundred he escaped a flogging. Mr. Buck, being unable to
reckon exactly the number of lashes to which Little Lizay was entitled,
gave the rawhide the benefit of any doubt and ordered Alston to administer
seventy-five lashes.