"Darry, he don't mind to keep
his prayers secret, he don't," — she added with a half laugh.
" 'Spect nothin' but they'll bust the walls o' that little
house some day."
"Dey's powerful!" added Theresa. "But he warn't prayin' no
harm; he was just prayin', 'Dy will be done, on de eart' as it
be in de heaven' — Pete, he tell me. Darry warn't saying
not'ing — he just pray 'Dy will be done.'!"
"Well?" I said, for Margaret kept silent.
"And de oberseer, he say — leastways he swore, he did, — dat
his will should be what is done on dis plantation, and he
wouldn't have no such work. He say, dere's nobody to come
togedder after it be dark, if it's two or t'ree, 'cept dey
gets his leave, Mass' Ed'ards, he say; and dey won't get it."
"But what did he do to Darry?" I could scarcely hold myself on
my feet by this time.
"He whipped him, I reckon," — said Margaret in a low tone, and
with a dark shadow crossing her face, very different from its
own brown duskiness.
"He don't have a light hand, Mass' Ed'ards," went on Theresa;
"and he got a sharp new whip.
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