“Laz, Laz! run he’ar dis minit—right now!” and then turning back into the room she continued, “Miss Emeline hed jis’ ’bout give yo’ out. Some said you’d come back an’ some said yo’ wouldn’t. Laz has kept de house clean an’ de fires goin’ in winter, an’ Miss Emeline has kept de school agoin’. Laws, I’se afeared dat she’ll break dat wooden peg whin she hears dat yo’se come.” She untied the red handkerchief and removed it from her head, readjusted her glasses on her nose, and stood off a little distance looking down at Paul Waffington, her old black face glowing with happiness.
“So glad ’use come, Massa,” was the greeting of the old colored man. “We all needs you’. De little gurl up dar on de mountainside needs you’ mos’, tho’.”
The two men walked out through the door into the garden together, Waffington and the black man. On up through the winding path the black man led the white, through the wicker gate and into the chestnut grove and the grave-yard.
“I wanted to come up hear with yo’ an’ sho’ yo’ somethin’, Massa Waffington,” said the old black man. They finally came up to a giant chestnut tree. At the trunk, the old black man pointed to a hard, slick barren spot at the base of the tree, that was just visible in the growing darkness.
“What made the hard worn spot, Uncle Lazarus?” inquired Paul Waffington.
“Dese ole knees, Massa Waffington, dese ole knees,” he said, standing with his head bowed down to the ground. Then he lifted his eyes and looked into the face of the white man as he continued: “Eber evenin’ after my chores is done, for mo’n a year, Massa Waffington, I’se come up hear an’ dropped dese ole knees down hear an’ prayed fo’ yo’, Massa. I’se prayed dat yo’ would come back. I’se prayed dat yo’ would be spaired an’ come back to Blood Camp an’ help us. Miss Emeline needs yo’, and I need yo’, an’ we all need yo’ so bad. Den, Massa, dat leetle gurl up yandar on de mountainside needs yo’ help worse dan all de res’.”
Together they walked back towards the gate. Paul Waffington had spoken in reply not a word. He was turning in his mind problems for solution.
“I thank you for your prayers, Uncle Lazarus. I appreciate them, I thank you for them, and you are a good man.”
“An’ now ’fore we part, i’se anoder thing dat I want to ax yo’, Massa, while we is out he’ar together, ef yo’ will bear with this ’ole black man,” he ventured, as they neared the gate.
“Why, certainly, Uncle, certainly. Why, I would be willing to have you ask me questions all the night through, if only I could answer them.”