"Yassah—yassah," he answered, pompously, adjusting his coat and vest. He held the paper up before him, struck it lightly with the back of his hand and cleared his throat:
"Me an' you has bin writin' fer de newspapers now 'bout fifteen years—yassah"—he paused and hurriedly read the document. "Dis yo' will, sah? An' de Lawd er mussy, 'tain't more'n ten lines. An' dey hain't nary one er dem whereases an' haremditaments aforesaids, like de lawyers puts in dem in de Cote House—hit's des plain writin"—he paused again—"ye gives de house, an' ten thousand dollars ter Miss Helen an' all yer got ter de Columnerzation Society ter move de niggers ter er place er dey own!"—he paused again and walled his eyes at Minerva. "What gwine come er Mr. Tom?"
Norton's head sank:
"He'll be rich without this! Sign your name here as a witness," he said shortly, picking up the pen.
Andy took the pen, rolled up his sleeve carefully, bent over the desk, paused and scratched his head:
"Don't yer think, major, dat's er terrible pile er money ter fling loose 'mongst er lot er niggers?"
Norton's eyes were dreaming again and Andy went on insinuatingly: "Now, wouldn't hit be better, sah, des ter pick out one good reliable nigger dat yer knows pussonally—an' move him?"
Norton looked up impatiently:
"Sign it!"
"Yassah! Cose, sah, you knows bes', sah, but 'pears ter me lak er powerful waste er good money des flingin' it broadcast!"