_TOBY'S REWARD._
Filled with disgust and wrath, Toby had obeyed the man who assumed to be
his master, and gone to bed. But he was scarcely asleep, when he felt
somebody shaking him, and awoke to see bending over him, with smiling
countenance, lamp in hand, Captain Lysander.
"What's wantin', sar?"
"I want you to do an errand for me, Toby," Lysander kindly replied.
"Wal, sar, I don'o', sar," said Toby, reluctant, sitting up in bed and
rubbing his elbows. "You know I had a right smart tramp. I's a
tuckered-out nigger, sar; dat's de troof."
"Yes, you had a hard time, Toby. But you'll just run over to the
school-house for me, I know. That's a good fellow!"
Toby hardly knew what to make of Lysander's extraordinarily persuasive
and indulgent manner. He didn't know before that a Sprowl could smile so
pleasantly, and behave so much like a gentleman. Then, the captain had
called him a good fellow, and his African soul was not above flattery.
Weary, sleepy as he was, he felt strongly inclined to get up out of his
delicious bed, and go and do Lysander's errand.
"You've only to hand this note to Lieutenant Ropes. And I'll give you
something when you come back--something you don't get every day, Toby!
Something you've deserved, and ought to have had long ago!" And
Lysander, all smiles, patted the old servant's shoulder.
This was too much for Toby. He laughed with pleasure, got up, pulled on
his clothes, took the note, and started off with alacrity, to convince
the captain that he merited all the good that was said of him, and that
indefinite "something" besides.
What could that something be? He thought of many things by the way: a
dollar; a knife; a new pair of boots with red tops, such as Lysander
himself wore;--which last item reminded him of the bootjack he had been
used for, and the kick he had received.
He stopped in the street, his wrath rising up again at the recollection.
"Good mind ter go back, and not do his old arrant." But then he thought
of the smiles and compliments, and the promised reward. "Somefin' kinder
decent 'bout dat mis'ble Sprowl, 'long wid a heap o' mean tings, arter
all!" And he started on again.