Chapter X. Little Pomp

by Horatio Alger

　　There was a hurried good-by at the depot."Kiss the children for me, Mary," said her husband."You will write very soon?" pleaded Mrs. Frost."At the very first opportunity.""All aboard!" shouted the conductor.With a shrill scream the locomotive started.Frank and his mother stood on the platform watching the recedingtrain till it was quite out of sight, and then in silence ouryoung hero assisted his mother into the carryall and turned thehorse's head homeward.It was one of those quiet October mornings, when the air is softand balmy as if a June day had found its way by mistake into theheart of autumn. The road wound partly through the woods. Theleaves were still green and abundant. Only one or two showedsigns of the coming change, which in the course of a few weeksmust leave them bare and leafless."What a beautiful day!" said Frank, speaking the words almostunconsciously."Beautiful indeed!" responded his mother. "On such a day as thisthe world seems too lovely for war and warlike passions to bepermitted to enter it. When men might be so happy, why need theystain their hands with each other's blood?"Frank was unprepared for an answer. He knew that it was hisfather's departure which led his mother to speak thus. He wishedto divert her mind, if possible.Circumstances favored his design.They had accomplished perhaps three-quarters of the distance homewhen, as they were passing a small one-story building by theroadside, a shriek of pain was heard, and a little black boy camerunning out of the house, screaming in affright: "Mammy's donekilled herself. She's mos' dead!"He ran out to the road and looked up at Mrs. Frost, as if toimplore assistance."That's Chloe's child," said Mrs. Frost. "Stop the horse, Frank;I'll get out and see what has happened."Chloe, as Frank very well knew, was a colored woman, who until afew months since had been a slave in Virginia. Finally she hadseized a favorable opportunity, and taking the only child whichthe cruel slave system had left her, for the rest had been soldSouth, succeeded in making her way into Pennsylvania. Chance haddirected her to Rossville, where she had been permitted tooccupy, rent free, an old shanty which for some years previoushad been uninhabited. Here she had supported herself by taking inwashing and ironing. This had been her special work on theplantation where she had been born and brought up, and she wastherefore quite proficient in it. She found no difficulty inobtaining work enough to satisfy the moderate wants of herselfand little Pomp.The latter was a bright little fellow, as black as the ace ofspades, and possessing to the full the mercurial temperament ofthe Southern negro. Full of fun and drollery, he attracted plentyof attention when he came into the village, and earned many apenny from the boys by his plantation songs and dances.Now, however, he appeared in a mood entirely different, and itwas easy to see that he was much frightened."What's the matter, Pomp?" asked Frank, as he brought his horseto a standstill."Mammy done killed herself," he repeated, wringing his hands interror.A moan from the interior of the house seemed to make it clearthat something had happened.Mrs. Frost pushed the door open and entered.Chloe had sunk down on the floor and was rocking back and forth,holding her right foot in both hands, with an expression of acutepain on her sable face. Beside her was a small pail, bottomupward.Mrs. Frost was at no loss to conjecture the nature of theaccident which had befallen her. The pail had contained hotwater, and its accidental overturn had scalded poor Chloe."Are you much hurt, Chloe?" asked Mrs. Frost sympathizingly."Oh, missus, I's most dead," was the reply, accompanied by agroan. " 'Spect I sha'n't live till mornin'. Dunno what'll becomeof poor Pomp when I'se gone."Little Pomp squeezed his knuckles into his eyes and respondedwith an unearthly howl."Don't be too much frightened, Chloe," said Mrs. Frostsoothingly. "You'll get over it sooner than you think. How didthe pail happen to turn over?""Must have been de debbel, missus. I was kerryin' it just askeerful, when all at once it upsot."This explanation, though not very luminous to her visitor,appeared to excite a fierce spirit of resentment against the pailin the mind of little Pomp.He suddenly rushed forward impetuously and kicked the pail withall the force he could muster.But, alas for poor Pomp! His feet were unprotected by shoes, andthe sudden blow hurt him much more than the pail. The consequencewas a howl of the most distressing nature.Frank had started forward to rescue Pomp from the consequences ofhis precipitancy, but too late. He picked up the little fellowand, carrying him out, strove to soothe him.Meanwhile, Mrs. Frost examined Chloe's injuries. They were not sogreat as she had anticipated. She learned on inquiry that thewater had not been scalding hot. There was little doubt that withproper care she would recover from her injuries in a week or tendays. But in the meantime it would not do to use the foot."What shall I do, missus?" groaned Chloe. "I ain't got nothin'baked up. 'Pears like me and Pomp must starve.""Not so bad as that, Chloe," said Mrs. Frost, with a reassuringsmile. "After we have you on the bed we will take Pomp home withus, and give him enough food to last you both a couple of days.At the end of that time, or sooner, if you get out, you can sendhim up again."Chloe expressed her gratitude warmly, and Mrs. Frost, calling inFrank's assistance, helped the poor woman to a comfortableposition on the bed, which fortunately was in the corner of thesame room. Had it been upstairs, the removal would have beenattended with considerable difficulty as well as pain to Chloe.Pomp, the acuteness of whose pain had subsided, looked on withwondering eyes while Frank and Mrs. Frost "toted" his mother ontothe bed, as he expressed it.Chloe accepted, with wondering gratitude, the personal attentionsof Mrs. Frost, who bound up the injured foot with a softness oftouch which brought no pain to the sufferer."You ain't too proud, missus, to tend to a poor black woman," shesaid. "Down Souf dey used to tell us dat everybody looked down onde poor nigger and lef' 'em to starve an' die if dey grow sick.""They told you a great many things that were not true, Chloe,"said Mrs. Frost quietly. "The color of the skin ought to make nodifference where we have it in our power to render kind offices.""Do you believe niggers go to de same heaven wid w'ite folks,missus?" asked Chloe, after a pause."Why should they not? They were made by the same God.""I dunno, missus," said Chloe. "I hopes you is right.""Do you think you can spare Pomp a little while to go home withus?""Yes, missus. Here you, Pomp," she called, "you go home wid disgood lady, and she'll gib you something for your poor sickmudder. Do you hear?""I'se goin' to ride?" said Pomp inquiringly."Yes," said Frank good-naturedly."Hi, hi, dat's prime!" ejaculated Pomp, turning a somersault inhis joy."Scramble in, then, and we'll start."Pomp needed no second invitation. He jumped into the carriage,and was more leisurely followed by Frank and his mother.It was probably the first time that Pomp had ever been in acovered carriage, and consequently the novelty of his situationput him in high spirits.He was anxious to drive, and Frank, to gratify him, placed thereins in his hands. His eyes sparkling with delight, and hisexpanded mouth showing a full set of ivories, Pomp shook thereins in glee, shouting out, "Hi, go along there, you ol'debble!""Pomp, you mustn't use that word," said Mrs. Frost reprovingly."What word, missus?" demanded Pomp innocently."The last word you used," she answered."Don't 'member what word you mean, missus," said Pomp. "Hi, youdebble!""That's the word?""Not say 'debble'?" said Pomp wonderingly. "Why not, missus?""It isn't a good word.""Mammy says 'debble.' She calls me little debble when I run away,and don't tote in de wood.""I shall tell her not to use it. It isn't a good word for anybodyto use.""Hope you'll tell her so, missus," said Pomp, grinning andshowing his teeth. "Wheneber she calls me little debble she pullsoff her shoe and hits me. Hurts like de debble. Mebbe she won'thit me if you tell her not to say 'debble.' "Mrs. Frost could hardly forbear laughing. She managed, however,to preserve a serious countenance while she said, "You must takecare to behave well, and then she won't have to punish you."It is somewhat doubtful whether Pomp heard this last remark. Heespied a pig walking by the side of the road, and was seized witha desire to run over it. Giving the reins a sudden twitch, hebrought the carriage round so that it was very near upsetting ina gully.Frank snatched the reins in time to prevent this catastrophe."What did you do that for, Pomp?" he said quickly."Wanted to scare de pig," exclaimed Pomp, laughing. "Wanted tohear him squeal.""And so you nearly tipped us over.""Didn't mean to do dat, Mass' Frank. 'Pears like I didn't think."Mrs. Frost was too much alarmed by this narrow escape to consentto Pomp's driving again, and for the moment felt as if she shouldlike to usurp his mother's privilege of spanking him. But thelittle imp looked so unconscious of having done anything wrongthat her vexation soon passed away.In half an hour Pomp was on his way back, laden with a basketfulof provisions for his sick mother and himself.