An' li'l black Mose he 'low he gwine wait a bit. He 'low he gwine jes wait a li'l bit. He 'low he gwine be no trouble at all ef he jes been let wait twell he ma she gwine up de ladder to de loft to bed, too. So he ma she say:
"Git erlong wid yo'! Whut you skeered ob whin dey ain't no ghosts?"
An' li'l black Mose he scrooge, an' he twist, an' he pucker up he mouf, an' he rub he eyes, an' prisintly he say right low:
"I ain't skeered ob ghosts whut am, 'ca'se dey ain't no ghosts."
"Den what am yo' skeered ob?" ask he ma.
"Nuffin'," say de li'l black boy whut he name is Mose; "but I jes feel kinder oneasy 'bout de ghosts whut ain't."
Jes lak white folks! Jes lak white folks!
