"How dare you speak ?" The boy was a handsome, bright-eyed mulatto, of just Henrique's size, and his curling hair hung round a high, bold forehead.

He had white blood in his veins, as could be seen by the quick flush in his cheek, and the sparkle of his eye, as he eagerly tried to speak.
"Mas'r Henrique!--" he began.
Henrique struck him across the face with his riding-whip, and, seizing one of his arms, forced him on to his knees, and beat him till he was out of breath.
"There, you impudent dog! Now will you learn not to answer back when I speak to you?
Take the horse back, and clean him properly.

I'll teach you your place!" "Young Mas'r," said Tom, "I specs what he was gwine to say was, that the horse would roll when he was bringing him up from the stable; he's so full of spirits,--that's the way he got that dirt on him; I looked to his cleaning." "You hold your tongue till you're asked to speak!" said Henrique, turning on his heel, and walking up the steps to speak to Eva, who stood in her riding-dress.
"Dear Cousin, I'm sorry this stupid fellow has kept you waiting," he said.

"Let's sit down here, on this seat till they come.

What's the matter, Cousin ?--you look sober." "How could you be so cruel and wicked to poor Dodo ?" asked Eva.
"Cruel,--wicked!" said the boy, with unaffected surprise.