Finally, in her indignation against Pomp for some aggressive act, she scratched him sharply.
"You wicked old debble!" exclaimed Pomp wrathfully.
He kicked at the cat; but she was lucky enough to escape, and ran out of the room as fast as her four legs could carry her.
"Big ugly debble!" muttered Pomp, watching the blood ooze from his finger.
"What's the matter, Pomp ?" "Old cat scratch me." "And what did you do to her, Pomp?
I am afraid you deserved your scratch." "Didn't do noffin', Mass' Frank," said Pomp virtuously.
"I don't think you always tell the truth, Pomp." "Can't help it, Mass' Frank.

'Spec' I've got a little debble inside of me." "What do you mean, Pomp! What put that idea in your head ?" "Dat's what mammy says.

Dat's what she al'ays tells me." "Then," said Frank, "I think it will be best to whip it out of you.
Where's my stick ?" "Oh, no, Mass' Frank," said Pomp, in alarm; "I'll be good, for sure." "Then sit down and get your lesson." Again Pomp assumed his cricket.

Before he had time to devise any new mischief, Mrs.Frost came to the head of the stairs and called Frank.
Frank laid aside his books, and presented himself at the foot of the stairs.
"I should like your help a few minutes.

Can you leave your studies ?" "Certainly, mother." Before going up, he cautioned Pomp to study quietly, and not get into any mischief while he was gone.