I’ll quit.
Williams
Well, dat’s on’y a promise but I’ll shore hol’ you to hit er put you behin’ de bahs. Why, look heah, man, does you know how you stan’ ’pon top er dis yu’th? Does you know how you liken to er tree? ’Sposin’ sumpin’ wif er cool eye like er tree could see you an’ talk. I cain’ jedge you ca’m but er tree could. Tree would look at you an’ say, “Does dat ’ere man wu’k?” Win’ ’ud whispeh, “No.” “Do he eat?” “Yas ’n git fat,” respon’ de win’. “Who shines on him?” “His wife,” win’ say. “Do he put fo’th flower an’ bless de wife?” say de tree. “No.” “Do he give shade an’ shelteh ter de wife?” say de tree. “No.” “Well, chop’m down an’ bu’n him befo’ he rots,” say de tree. “Dat’s all.” But mebbe I kin mek mo’ of him dan dat an’ so I’ll try prunin’ him an’ graftin’ some good labeh onto him. An’ I kin’ er think hit’ll save him yit. Well’m, I must be er goin’ now. Hit’s late an’ I mus’ git my res’ fer I got to do a lot er bossin’ termorrer an dat’s allers ha’d fer me. Lucy, I’ll fetch you de deeds ter de house befo’ nine termorrer an’, Madison, you kin repo’t to me at eight o’clock sha’p an’ give my little boy a lesson on de guitar. You’ll be dah, won’t you?
Madison
[Meekly.] Yassuh.
Williams
Ready to whu’l in an’ scratch.
Madison
Yassuh.
Williams