“You may go ter bed now,” Uncle Remus went on, in a tone calculated to carry conviction with it, “you may go ter bed en go ter sleep right now, but wake up w’enst you will en you’ll year dem guineas a-cacklin’ en a confabbin’ out dar des same ez ef’t wuz broad daylight. Seem like dey ain’t gwine ter fergit de time w’en Brer Fox crope up on um, en kotch um ’sleep.”
“When was that, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, as he settled himself in the split-bottom chair in anticipation of a story.
“Well,” said the old man, noticing the movement, “you nee’n ter primp yo’se’f fer no great long tale, honey, kaze dish yer tale ain’t skacely long nuff fer ter tie a snapper on. Yit sech es ’t is you er mo’ dan welcome.
“One time ’way long back yander dem guineas wuz des ez drowsy w’en night come ez any er de yuther folks. Dey ’d go ter roos’, dey would, en dey ’d drap off ter sleep time der head totch de piller.”
“The pillow, Uncle Remus!” exclaimed the little boy.
“Well,” said the old man, rubbing his hand over his weatherbeaten face to hide a smile, “hit’s all de same. In dem days dey could ’a’ had pillers ef dey ’d a-wanted um, en bolsters, too, fer dat matter, en likewise fedder-beds, kaze dey wouldn’t ’a’ had ter go no fur ways fer de fedders.
“But ne’er mind ’bout dat; no sooner did dey git up on de roos’ dan dey drap off ter sleep, en dey kep’ on dat away twel bimeby one time Brer Fox made up he min’ dat he better be kinder sociable en pay um a call atter dey done gone ter bed.
“Dar wuz times,” continued Uncle Remus, as if endeavoring to be perfectly fair and square to all the parties concerned, “w’en Brer Fox tuck a notion fer ter walk ’bout in de daytime, but mos’ allers inginer’lly he done he pomernadin’ ’twix’ sundown en sun-up. I dunner w’at time er night hit wuz w’en Brer Fox call on de guineas, but I speck’t wuz long todes de shank er de evenin’, ez you may say.
“Yit, soon er late, w’en he got ter whar de guineas live at, he foun’ um all soun’ asleep. Now, some folks w’en dey go anywhars fer ter make deyse’f sociable, en fin’ eve’ybody fas’ asleep, would ’a’ tu’n ’roun’ en made der way back home; but Brer Fox ain’t dat kind er man. Dem guineas roos’ so low en dey look so fine en fat dat it make Brer Fox feel like dey wuz his fus’ cousin.
“He sot down on his hunkers, Brer Fox did, en he look at um en grin. Den he ’low ter hisse’f: