SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 148 | Next

Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"


"Good evening, Waldo, my boy," said Bonaparte Blenkins in a mild voice, not
venturing more than his nose within the door. "How are you this evening?"
Doss growled and showed his little teeth, and tried to rise, but his paw
hurt him so he whined.
"I'm very tired, Waldo, my boy," said Bonaparte plaintively.
Doss showed his little white teeth again. His master went on with his work
without looking round. There are some people at whose hands it is best not
to look. At last he said:
"Come in."
Bonaparte stepped cautiously a little way into the room, and left the door
open behind him. He looked at the boy's supper on the table.
"Waldo, I've had nothing to eat all day--I'm very hungry," he said.
"Eat!" said Waldo after a moment, bending lower over his dog.
"You won't go and tell her that I am here, will you, Waldo?" said Bonaparte
most uneasily. "You've heard how she used me, Waldo? I've been badly
treated; you'll know yourself what it is some day when you can't carry on a
little conversation with a lady without having salt meat and pickle-water
thrown at you. Waldo, look at me; do I look as a gentleman should?"
But the boy neither looked up nor answered, and Bonaparte grew more uneasy.
"You wouldn't go and tell her that I am here, would you?" said Bonaparte,
whiningly. "There's no knowing what she would do to me.


Pages:
136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160