'Well, Tom,' said Mr. St. Clare the day after he had spoken to his Lawyer, 'I'm going to make a free man of you. So have your trunk packed and get ready to set out for home.'
Joy shone in Uncle Tom's face. 'Bless the Lord,' he said, raising his hands to heaven.
Mr. St. Clare felt rather hurt. He did not like Tom to be so glad to leave him.
'You haven't had such a very bad time here that you need be in such rapture, Tom,' he said.
'No, no, mas'r! tan't that. It's bein' a free man! That's what I'm joyin' for.'
'Why, Tom, don't you think that you are really better off as you are?'
'No, indeed, Mas'r St. Clare,' said Tom, very decidedly; 'no, indeed.'
'But, Tom, you couldn't possibly have earned by your work such clothes and such nice, comfortable rooms and good food as I have given you.'
'I knows all that, Mas'r St. Clare. Mas'r has been too good. But, mas'r, I'd rather have poor clothes, poor house, poor everything, and have 'em mine than have the best, and have 'em any man's else. I had so, mas'r. I thinks it's nature, mas'r.'