Pete (putting hands in pockets; turns them wrong side out; looks at them dolefully, then at Potts). Please, massa, I can't gib yer nuffin.
Potts (patting Pete on back). I don't mean money.
Pete. Does yer mean I can do somefin for him?
Bijah. Yes, that's jest the pint.
Pete. Deed, I'd just like dat. Does yer know what he's gwine ter do for me? When dis yer war is ober he's gwine to help me find my mammy. Don't yer tink I 'specs him for dat?
Potts. Gad, you're a lucky fellow to find such a friend as that. I wish the colonel would help me find a sweetheart.
Pete (grinning). 'Specs for such a fine-lookin gennleman as you is, massa, de colonel would not have to work bery hard.
Potts. Thank you, Pete. That's praise worth having.
Bijah. I say, Pete, there's some one in this world, that doesn't love the colonel: you must take good care of him. One of these fine days some one will try to shoot him.
Pete. Shoot massa Colonel? Not if Pete can help it.