"I must confess that I haven't," Tom replied.
"Thar, I knowed it." And then speaking to Mrs. Mayfield, he added: "All right, mam, we'll do the best we kin fur you. Got the same names here that you had down whar you come from?"
Tom laughed. His aunt reproved him with a look. "Why, of course. What object would we have in changing them?"
"Don't ask me, mam. I never know what object nobody has—ain't my business. Here, Kintchin," he called to the negro, "take them trunks outen the wagin and then you may go to sleep ag'in."
Kintchin came round a corner of the house, rubbing his eyes. "Talkin' ter me, suh?"
"You hearn me."
"Said suthin' erbout gwine ter sleep. I jest wanter tell you dat I ain't slep' none fur er week, an' ef you 'sinuate at me—"
"Go on there. Now mam, ef you'll jest step in we'll do the best we kin."
"Oh, thank you. How courteous you are."
"How what? I reckon you better git along without much o' that. Don't want nobody put on a strain. Margaret, here are some folks," he continued as his wife made her appearance. "Jest tell 'em howdy and let 'em alone."