At last my foot kotched in somethin' or another, that pitched me
somewhat less than a rod or so, right agin the poor black critter,
and away we went, heels over head. I heerd a splash and a groan, and
I smelt somethin' plaguy sour, but I couldn't see nothin'; at last I
got hold of her and lifted her up, for she didn't scream, but made a
strange kind of chokin' noise, and by this time up came Marm Blake
with a light. If poor Beck didn't let go then in airnest, and sing
out for dear life, it's a pity, for she had gone head first into
the swill tub, and the tea-kettle had scalded her feet. She kept
a-dancin' right up and down, like one ravin' distracted mad, and
boo-hoo'd like anything, clawin' away at her head the whole time,
to clear away the stuff that stuck to her wool.
"I held in as long as I could, till I thought I should have busted,
for no soul could help a-larfin', and at last I haw-hawed right out.
'You good-for-nothin' stupid slut you,' said the old lady to poor
Beck, 'it sarves you right, you had no business to leave it
there--I'll pay you.' 'But,' said I, interferin' for the unfortunate
critter, 'good gracious, marm! you forget the fire.' 'No I don't,'
said she, 'I see him,' and seizin' the broom that had fallen from the
nigger's hand, she exclaimed, 'I see him, the nasty varmint,' and
began to belabour most onmarcifully a poor half-starved cur that the
noise had attracted to the entry.
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