“Whose de man? Whar am he?”
“I'll tell yer sumfing, but yer musn't tell. Ise had de secret a long time, but I cahnt keep it any longer.”
“Massa Allison lubs our sweet mistis.”
“Which one?”
“Why, Miss Marie, ob course. I 'lows Miss Helen is all right, but she cahnt—”
“Dar yo' go, way off from de subjict. What did he do?” Dan tiptoed nearer to his spouse. “Yer 'members de day Massa Walter was shot. I was in dem woods after rabbits, when I seed Massa Allison wid a musket, lying flat on his face in some high bushes. I felt it was kind o' queer; yo' know he's home on leab ob absence, and so I watched him. Quick I heard de report, and saw Massa Walter fall right down, and Massa Allison rund away fast as a deer. I picked up his hankcher and his name is printed right on it, and I've kep' it in my bussum ever since.”
“You telling de troof? If yo' is, my symperthies go right ober to dat ar wounded boy.”
“Ise telling de troof, ole woman. And now yo' see why Ise got no lub for Massa Allison.”
“Well, we'd best keep dis yere news to ourselves. Yo' know a nigger's word never'd go before a white man's down here, so we'll jess keep our moufs shut.”