“Come and sit down.”
“You no ’tick um pin in ’gain?”
“I haven’t got a pin,” I said.
“Den I know; it was um big forn.”
“It wasn’t, Pomp. Come and sit down and have some lunch.”
“No. Won’t come. Don’t want no lunchum. Hurt poor Pomp dreffle. You alway play um trick.”
“I tell you I didn’t do anything, Pomp. There, come along.”
He caught sight of the food I brought now from the wallet, and it was irresistible.
“You no ’tick pin in nigger ’gain?”
“No.”