“No,” very decidedly answered General Garnet; adding, in a lower tone, “No more childish friendships ripening into mature love.”
“Very well, then, godfather, if you love me, you’ll have to come and live ’long of us; for I can’t go home ’long o’ you.”
“Why not, pray?”
“’Cause, godfather, how could Hugh live here by himself?”
“Well, little ‘Martha,’ anxious and troubled about many things, Hugh need not live here by himself. Suppose I was to get a situation for Hugh?”
“A what?”
“Suppose I were to put Hugh in the way of getting an honest living?”
“La, godfather, no white men about here except niggers ever get an honest living, and I can’t let you black Hugh’s face and crisp his hair—that’s black enough already—and make a nigger of him!”
“You silly child, you will let me make a lawyer, or a doctor, or a parson of him, won’t you?”
Before Nettie could answer Hugh Hutton came up, cap in hand, and stood facing General Garnet.