"No, he ain't come, an' dat 's huccome hope stays wid me. If he was free in de sperit lan' he sho' would come an' gimme a sign. But reason is reason, an' ef he ain't dead, huccome he don't come an' look arter his chile? My white folks warn't nuver shirkers—nor deserters. So, when I stays off my knees awhile an' casts away faith in de unseen, seem dat my horse-sense hit gives me trouble. An' den, like to-night, somehow my courage sinks, an' look like I kin see him dead an' forgot in some ol' ditch on de battle-field.
"Jes s'posin' dat 's de trufe, Isrul, what we boun' to do wid Blossom?"
"Hannah!"
"Yas, Isrul."
"You done heared a plenty o' preachin', ain't yer?"
"Yas, Isrul."
"Is you ever heared a preacher preach 'bout s'posin'?"
"No, Isrul."
"But I tell you what you is hearn 'em preach about. You hearn 'em preach about watchin' an' prayin'."
"Dat 's so, Isrul, but yit'n still, you know de scripture say 'Hope referred meketh de heart sick.' You ricollec' dat, don't you?"