"Yes, Jake."
"Ebber since we was boys togedder I'se lubed yer, and stuck to yer through thick and thin, and now dat Jake is goin' home yer doan' treasure up nothin' agin me, do yer, marse?"
"No, no, Jake."
"Old missus, come nearer, honey, Jake's eyes is gettin' mighty dim now, and he kan't see yer. Yer'll nebber forgit how Jake tuk keer of yer an' de chilluns when ole marster gone to de war? An' yer'll be kind to my wife and chilluns for my sake, won't yer?"
"Yes, yes, Jake, I'll be kind to them, and I will never forget your fidelity, old friend."
"T'ank de Lawd! I kin die happy now, when I'se know dat yer an' master will 'member me an' be kind to dem I'se leaving behind. An' de chillun—whar's de chillun? I'se wants ter tell 'em all goodby an' say a las' few words to dem, too."
And in his eagerness, with a strength born of death, the old man half arose upon his elbow and laid a trembling hand upon the head of each of the awe-struck children.
"God bless yer, chillun, one an' all. I lubs my own little picaninnies, but I lubs old marster's just as well. I doan' want none o' yer to forgit how Uncle Jake has trotted yer on his knee an' toted yer on his back an' keep' a watchful eye on yer, les' yet git into mischief by yer pranks. Promise me, chillun, dat you'll nebber forgit dese ting. It pleases Uncle Jake to think yer'll 'member him arter he's gone from yer sight for ebber."
As well as they were able for their tears, the little ones gave the required promise, and greatly pleased, the old man sank back exhausted upon his pillow.
After lying a few minutes with closed eyes, as if in sleep, he suddenly whispered: