A jerk! Then a hasty movement. I must have left the window open, and a
fly or a beetle had got in and was tickling my ear. Now it was on my
cheek--then on the other cheek--my neck again--my ear--my eyes--and
now--
"Ertchsshaw--ertchsshaw!" It was right on my nose, and I start up to
brush it away, and in the gloom recognise the figure of Pomp, who burst
into a roar of laughter.
"Mass' George tiddle lil nigger; now lil nigger tiddle Mass' George."
"Why, Pomp," I said, sitting up and staring, "I--I thought I was at
home."
"No, Mass' George. Home long a way. Been sleep, and Pomp been sleep."