But the next morning Jim had the courage to appear at the breakfast
table, still gazing; and later when Tom and his aunt went out for a
walk, he followed along like a dog waiting to be scolded.
Several days later, while old black mammy was ironing in the sitting
room, Kintchin came in at the door which always stood open, and looking
about, slowly went up to the old woman and inquired if she needed any
more wood.
"No," she answered, not looking at him, "I's nearly done."
Kintchin scratched his head. "Wall, I jest come ter tell you dat ef you
does need any mo' I knows er man dat'll git it fur you. Me. An' w'en er
man fetches er lady de sort o' wood I'd fetch you, w'y she kin tell
right dar whut he think o' her. Does you hyarken ter me?"
Mammy, slowly moving her iron, looked at him. "Whut de matter wid you,
man? Ain't habin' spells, is you?"
"I's in lub, lady, dat's whut de matter wid me."
"In lub? In lub wid who?"
He leaned toward her. "Wid you."
"W'y you couldn't lub me," she said. "I's eighty odd an' you ain't but
sixty.
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