“Country people, no matter what part of the United States they live in, are generally friendly. Living in cities, where your next door neighbor is a stranger, makes a person suspicious. But I’ve found that most honest-to-goodness Americans will do a lot for a person in trouble.”
“Dere’s de kyar, Missy,” Uncle Abe interrupted apologetically. “Reckon dis hyar ol’ nigger’ll wish yo’all goodbye an’ mo’ comferble beds ternight.”
Dorothy caught the old fellow’s hand and held it between her own.
“Uncle Abe,” she said, looking straight into his shining eyes, “do you really like living up there in the woods, all by yourself?”
“Waal, dis nigger ain’t used ter much, Missy,” he said slowly, “an’ de cabin am a heap better ’an a barn er no roof atall. But, it sho’ do get mighty lonesome, ’times.”
“I bet it does. How would you like to live in quarters over our garage and work for my father? He was saying only a day or so ago that what with driving the cars and all Arthur has too much to do around the place. We need a gardener and general handy man. The job is yours if you’ll take it—and I don’t mind saying I’ll feel badly if you don’t.”
Ol’ Man River winked back the tears with a brave effort, although the little wrinkles at the corners of his mouth puckered in a smile.
“Yo’ sho’ is good ter dis hyar nigger, Missy!”
“And you want to come? I won’t take no for an answer—”
“It do me good fer ter hear you sesso, Missy. Kaze yo’ sho’ is de qual’ty and dis hyar ol’ nigger never done had no real fambly ’time he come No’th.”