“Yo’s allers gen’rous lak dat, en dat’s de reason Ah likes tuh mascot fo’ yo’. When does yo’ all think yo’ll need me?”
“I can’t tell that for a while, Uncle Tom. You go to Hempstead and stay with Topsy. That’s the place for you. You’re getting altogether too old to work.”
“Huccome yo’ lef’ Denvah? Whar yo’ all been, huh?”
“I’ve been in a good many places, Uncle Tom, since I left Denver. I’m certainly going to do something for you, Uncle Tom,” answered Matt; “but I can’t say just when.”
“Ah’s got fifty-five dollahs, marse, en hit’ll las’ me er long while, yassuh, but doan’ yo’ git de notion hit’ll las’ too long. When hit plays out Ah wants tuh wo’k fo’ yo’.”
“I’ll have to hurry, Uncle Tom,” said Matt. “You can stroll along to Hempstead and take your time; but I’ve got important business in New York.”
“Yo’s allers doin’ somethin’. Nevah seed sich a fellah fo’ bein’ evahlastin’ly on de go. Ah’m gwine tuh root fo’ yo’, marse. ’Deed Ah is. When good luck come yo’ way, jess yo’ ricollect hit’s Uncle Tom mascottin’. But Ah can do a heap bettah at dat ef Ah’m ’long clos’ tuh yo’. Dishyer long-range mascottin’ done li’ble tuh wind up on er snag. ’Membah dat, too.”
“I’ll remember everything, Uncle Tom,” said Matt. “You stay in Hempstead with Topsy. Good-by.”
“Good-by, Marse Matt.”
Matt shook the darky’s hand warmly, turned and hurried on along the road.