“Mother always makes me carry a handkerchief,” the child replied, “and it makes the pocket of my jacket stick out. Why did you ask, Uncle Remus?”
“Kaze we er comin’ ter de place whar you’ll need it,” said the old man. “You better take it out an’ hol’ it in yo’ han’. Ef you got any tears inside er you, dey’ll come ter de top now.”
The child took out his handkerchief, and held it in his hand obediently. “Well, suh,” Uncle Remus went on, “atter dey been made ’quainted, ol’ Craney-Crow tell Dock Wolf ’bout his troubles, an’ how he wanter do like de rest er de flyin’ creeturs, an’ Dock Wolf rub his chin an’ put his thumb in his wescut pocket fer all de worl’ like a sho nuff doctor. He say ter ol’ Craney-Crow dat he ain’t so mighty certain an’ sho dat he kin he’p ’im much. He say dat in all his born days he ain’t never see no flyin’ creetur wid sech a long neck, an’ dat he’ll hatter be mighty intickler how he fool wid it. He went close, he did, an’ feel un it an’ fumble wid it, an’ all de time his mouf wuz waterin’ des like yone do when you see a piece er lemon pie.
“He say: ‘You’ll hatter hol’ yo’ head lower, Mr. Craney-Crow,’ an’ wid dat he snap down on it, an’ dat wuz de last er dat Craney-Crow. He ain’t never see his home no mo’, an’ mo’ dan dat, ol’ Dock Wolf slung ’im ’cross his back an’ cantered off home. An’ dat’s de reason dat de Craney-Crows all fly so fas’ when dey come thoo dis part er de country.”
“But why did you ask me to take out my handkerchief, Uncle Remus?”
“Kaze I wanter be on de safe side,” remarked the old man with much solemnity. “Ef you got a hankcher when you cry, you kin wipe off de weeps, an’ you kin hide de puckers in yo’ face.”
VIII
BROTHER FOX FOLLOWS THE FASHION
The little boy was not sure whether Uncle Remus had finished the story; it would have been hard for a grown man to keep up with the whimsical notions of the venerable old darkey, and surely you couldn’t expect a little bit of a boy, who had had no experience to speak of, to do as well. The little lad waited a while, and, seeing that Uncle Remus showed no sign of resuming the narrative, he spoke up. “I didn’t see anything to cry about,” he remarked.