o' scraps as you kin tote.'"

There were tears in the old man's eyes, and he actually giggled.

"Is she? Well done! But ain't you 'feerd you'll los' yo'self, gwine 'way
down town at night?"

"Los' who, gran'dad? You can't los' me in dis city, so long as de
red-light Pertania cars is runnin'. I kin ketch on berhine tell dey
fling me off, den teck de nex' one tell dey fling me off ag'in--an' hit
ain't so fur dat-a-way."

"Does dey fling yer off rough, boy? Look out dey don't bre'k yo' bones!"

"Dey ain't gwine crack none o' my bones. Sometimes de drivers kicks me
off, an' sometimes dey cusses me off, tell I lets go des ter save Gord's
name--dat's a fac'."

"Dat's right. Save it when you kin, boy. So she gwine scrape de
Christmas plates fur me, is she? I wonder what sort o' white folks dis
here tar-baby o' mine done strucken in wid, anyhow? You sho' dey reel
quality white folks, is yer, Juke? 'Caze I ain't gwine sile my mouf on
no po' white-trash scraps."

"I ain't no sho'er'n des what I tell yer, gran'dad. Ef dey ain't
quality, I don' know nothin' 't all 'bout it. I tell yer when I walked
roun' dat yard clean ter de kitchen on dem flag-stones wid dat bucket o'
brick on my hade, I had ter stop an' ketch my bref fo' I could talk, an'
de cook, a sassy, fat, black lady, she would o' sont me out, but de
madam, she seed me 'erse'f, an' she tooken took notice ter me, an' tell
me set my bucket down, an' de yo'ng ladies, beatin' eggs in de kitchen,
dey was makin' sport o' me, too--ax' me is I weaned yit, an' one ob 'em
ax me is my nuss los' me! Den dey gimme deze heah hole-in-de-middle
cakes, an' some reesons. I des fotched you a few reesons, but I done et
de mos' ob em--I ain't gwine tell you no lie about it."

"Dat's right, baby. I'm glad you is et 'em--des so dey don't cramp yer
up--an' come 'long now an' eat yo' dinner. I saved you a good pan o'
greens an' meat. What else is you et to-day, boy?"

"De ladies in de kitchen dey gimme two burnt cakes, an' I swapped half
o' my reesons wid a white boy for a biscuit--but I sho is hongry."

"Yas, an' you sleepy, too--I know you is."

"But I gwine git up soon, gran'dad. One market-lady she seh ef I come
early in de mornin' an' tote baskits home, she gwine gimme some'h'n'
good; an' I'm gwine ketch all dem butchers and fish-ladies in dat
Mag'zine Markit 'Christmas-gif'!' An' I bet yer dey'll gimme some'h'n'
ter fetch home. Las' Christmas I got seven nickels an' a whole passel