rushed into the presence of the pastor and his wife, wildly exclaiming: "Master Eobert, why did you let Mr. Bingham flog me? What have I done that I should be so punished?" "Go away," he gruffly answered, "do not bother me."
I would not be put off thus. "What have I done? I will know why I have been flogged."
I saw his cheeks flush with anger, but I did not move. He rose to his feet, and on my refusing to go without an explanation, seized a chair, struck me, and felled me to the floor. I rose, bewildered, almost dead with pain, crept to my room, dressed my bruised arms and back as best I could, and then lay down, but not to sleep. No, I could not sleep, for I was suffering mental as well as bodily torture. My spirit rebelled against the unjustness that had been inflicted upon me, and though I tried to smother my anger and to forgive those who had been so cruel to me, it was impossible. The next morning I was more
