“But I promised to write a letter for you, too. If you’ll tell me what you want me to say I’ll write to Mr. Tradd.”
“Oh, Missie, would you do dat fer sho?”
“Of course.”
“We ain’t got much time, Missie. Mah boss due back here pretty soon now. He done tole me I ain’t to pass no words wid y’all if you come back here again.”
Kitty glanced uneasily north along the inlet, but it was empty in the slanting sunlight that had broken through ragged clouds.
“So he warned you, eh? He was down at the station the day that boy gave me the money for your tobacco.”
“So dat how he know you’s gwine come again. I don’t hafter mind whut he say. I ain’t he nigger. I’ll be a Tradd nigger till I die, an’ I ain’t gwine set here an’ see him bring disgrace on dis island.”
“What do you mean, Uncle Mose?”
The old man came closer, almost knee deep in water now. His gnarled brown hands gripped the side of the boat as he said, “I ain’t able to row no boat crost to de mainland where us got ole fr’en’s, so I ain’t hab no one to trus’ ’bout whut gwine on round here till y’all come.”
“Then I’m very glad we came,” said Kitty encouragingly.