Aaron seemed satisfied with the answer. He replaced the bundle in the chest, turned the key and then leaned against the rude mantel shelf he had nailed over his fireplace.
“You think I’m a nigger, don’t you?” He turned to Buster John.
“Of course,” said the youngster without hesitation. “What else are you?”
“I’ll show you.” From his pocket Aaron drew a little package—something wrapped in soft leather and securely tied. It was a memorandum book. Opening this small book, Aaron held it toward Buster John, saying “What’s here?”
“It looks like pothooks,” replied the boy, frankly.
“Ain’t a word in it I can’t read,” said Aaron.
“Read some of it, please,” pleaded Sweetest Susan.
Thereupon Aaron began to read from the book in a strange tongue, the tone of his voice taking on modulations the children had never heard before.
“I ain’t never hear no jabber like dat,” said Drusilla.