Here Uncle Remus paused and leaned back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at the rafters. He paused so long that the little boy finally asked him if he couldn’t tell about Brother Rabbit’s wonderful courtship.
“Well, honey,” said the old man, “you haf ter gi’ me time fer to shet my eye-balls en sorter feel ’roun’ ’mongst my reckermembunce atter de wharfo’es en de whatsisnames. Kaze I’m like a broke-down plow-mule: I’ll go ’long ef you lemme take my time, but ef you push me, I’ll stop right in de middle er de row.”
“I can wait until bedtime,” the little boy remarked, “and then I’ll have to go.”
“Dat’s so,” Uncle Remus assented cheerfully, “en bein’ ez dat’s de case, we haf ter be sorter keerful. Lemme go ’roun’ de stumps en over de roots, en git in meller groun’, en den we kin des back right ’long.
“Now den! You done year talk er Miss Meadows en de gals, en ’bout how Brer Rabbit bin gwine dar so much. Well, hit done happen so dat Brer Rabbit wuz tuck wid a-likin’ er one er de gals. Dis make ’im sorter glad at de offstart, but bimeby he ’gun ter git droopy. He laid ’roun’ en sot ’bout, he did, en look like he studyin’ ’bout sump’n ’n’er way off yander.
“Hit went on dis away twel bimeby Miss Meadows, she up en ax Brer Rabbit w’at de name er sense is de matter ’long wid ’im, en Brer Rabbit, he feel so bad dat he up en ’spon’, he did, dat he dead in love wid one er de gals. Den Miss Meadows, she ax ’im w’at de reason he ain’t tell de gal dat he want ter be ’er b’ide-g’oom. Brer Rabbit say he ’shame’. Miss Meadows, she toss ’er head, she did, en ’low:
“‘Ya-a-a-s! You look like you ’shame’, now don’t you? You mout er bin ’shame’ ’fo’ hens had der toofies pulled out, but you ain’t bin ’shame’ sence. I done see you cut up too many capers; I know dey ain’t no gal on de top side er de yeth w’at kin faze you,’ sez Miss Meadows, sez she.
“Den Brer Rabbit ’low dat he skeerd de gal won’t have ’im, but Miss Meadows ’fuse ter hol’ any mo’ confab wid ’im; she des broke out singin’ en washin’ de dishes, en w’at wid de chune en de clatter er de dishes Brer Rabbit can’t year his own years. Bimeby, he tuck ’n sneak out, he did, en went en sot in de shade by de spring.
“He ain’t set dar long ’fo’ yer come de gal w’at he bin studyin’ ’bout. She had a pail in ’er han’ en she wuz comin’ atter water. She come ’long down de paff swingin’ de pail in her han’ en singin’.”
“What did she sing, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked, becoming more and more interested.