Out of Context

I won’t wait as long as the end of this upcoming Sunday, but I’m not in a hurry to type up this week’s My Discovery Mix.

Toby Tyler, or Ten Weeks With a Circus
James Otis

This piteous appeal seemed to have no effect upon the cruel man, and he continued to whip the boy, despite his cries and entreaties, until his arm fairly ached from the exertion and Toby’s body was crossed and recrossed with the livid marks of the cane.

“Now let’s see whether you’ll ‘tend to your work or not!” said the man as he flung Toby from him with such force that the boy staggered, reeled, and nearly fell into the little brook that flowed by the roadside. “I’ll make you understand that all the friends you’ve whined around in this show can’t save you from a lickin’ when I get ready to give you one! Now go an’ do your work that ought to have been done an hour ago!”

Mr. Lord walked away with the proud consciousness of a man who has achieved a great victory, and Toby was limping painfully along toward the cart that was used in conveying Mr. Lord’s stock in trade, when he felt a tiny hand slip into his and heard a childish voice say:

“Don’t cry, Toby. Sometime, when I get big enough, I’ll make Mr. Lord sorry that he whipped you as he did; and I’m big enough now to tell him just what kind of a man I think he is.”

Looking around, Toby saw his little acquaintance of the evening previous, and he tried to force back the big tears that were rolling down his cheeks as he said, in a voice choked with grief: “You’re awful good, an’ I don’t mind the lickin’ when you say you’re sorry for me.”