Abner.—Thank you, sir.
Rastus.—Hey you, don’t be buttin’ into Pullam porter’s work.
Edith.—Merry Christmas to you.
Inventor.—O dear me. It is Christmas isn’t it. I had forgotten all about it.
Rastus.—Yes, sir, this am the happy Christmas time when everybody gives presents, specially to them what has blackened their shoes and brushed their overcoats and waited on them in the diner. Folks gives them pussons presents like fifty cent pieces an’ dollar bills to show their appreciation an’ gratitude.
Abner.—Well, Rastus, you come round here this spring and I’ll give you an asparagus tip.
Inventor.—Ladies, gentlemen and Rastus!
Rastus.—What’s dat? Ladies, gen’l’men and Rastus!
Inventor.—Surely. You’re not a lady, are you? Your youth and inexperience precludes the possibility of your exercising a gentleman’s prerogatives, and therefore having eliminated all surrounding superfluities you remain—just Rastus; that’s all.
Rastus.—Jes’ so! When de wissle blows, fo’ ev’rybody else it means dinner time, but fo’ me its jes’ twelve o’clock an’ dat’s all.