“An’ yo’ reckon we gwine git dar wid ole Betty?”
“Or walk.”
“Escuse me. Escuse me. How yo’ mean ’bout dat ‘fortune and wukkin’?”
“I mean, Amos, that things aren’t going right around here. We may have to move away from Aspley Place.”
“Yo’ done makin’ spoht—”
“I can’t tell you about it, but I’ve got to go away to arrange things so that my mother and your father and Mammy Ca’line and you and I can stay here. If you don’t come along and help me and look after Betty we’ll have to find another home.”
Amos was open-mouthed.
“We all ain’t got no other home, Marse Morey. We’s bound to stay here. Who gwine make us go ’way?”
“Never mind, now. But if you won’t go I’ll have to go alone. I thought you’d stick by me.”
“Who gwine do chores fo’ Mammy?”