Then he said I might go to bed, and he would talk with me again in the
morning.
When I got to our room, the boys were sound asleep. I crept into bed as
still as a mouse. The moon shone in on me. I thought my eyes would never
go to sleep again. I tried to think how much a flogging would hurt.
Course, I knew ’t wouldn’t be like one of your little whippings. I
wasn’t so very much afraid of the hurt, though. But the name of being
whipped, I was afraid of that, and the shame of it. Now I will tell you
about the next morning, and how I was waked up.
Your affectionate grandchild,
* * * * *