"Aw, no, Misteh Coyne!" said he in the tone one uses when soothing a peevish child. "You jus' think you goin' to quit—tha's all!"
"You never heard me say I was going to quit before, did you?" demanded Coyne.
"No, suh; no."
"Well, when I say I'm going to quit, you can bet I mean it!" Jasper reflected on this statement.
"Yes, suh," said he gently. "Betteh let me put them things back, Misteh Coyne. They in the way here."
"What's the use of putting 'em back in the locker? They're no good to me. Make a bundle of 'em and give 'em to the poor."
"Mph! Po' folks ain't wearin' them shawt pants much—not this season, nohow!"
"I don't care what you do with 'em! Throw 'em away—burn 'em up—pitch 'em out. I don't care!"
"Yes, suh. All right, suh. Jus' as you say." Jasper rolled the heap into a bundle and began tying it with the sleeves of a shirt. "I'll look afteh 'em, suh."
"Never mind looking after 'em. Get rid of the stuff. I'm through, I tell you—done—finished—quit!"