Alice Wilde: The Raftsman's Daughter — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

QUESTIONING THE NIGGER. 47 “Ole folks never gets tired of young, bright faces, masser cera But ole eee knows sometimes what’s fer de best, more ’n young ones.’ “Then you think Miss Alice wants to get rid of me, and you second your darling’s wishes—eh, Pallas?” and he looked at her, hoping she would contradict him. “Pq do a’ mos’ any thing for my pickaninny—I lub her better den life; an’ dar’ never was anudder such a chile, so pretty and so good, as J know as has been wid her sence she drew her firs’ bref. If I tought she wanted you to go, I'd want you to go, too, masser, not meanin’ any disrespeck—and she do want you to go; but she’s got reasons for it;” and she shook her yellow turban reflectively. “Do you think she is getting to dislike me ?” “Dat’s her own bisness, ef she is; but dat ain’t de main reason. She don’t like de look of that red scar down your forrid. She knows who made dat ugly scar, and what fer they did it. She tinks dis a dangereus country for you, Masser Moore, and Pallas tink so too. Go way, masser, quick as you can, and nebber come back any more.” “But I shall come back, Aunt Pallas, next spring, to bring you something nice for all you’ve done for me, and because— because—I shan’t be able to stay away,” he answered, though somewhat startled and puzzled by her revelation. “Why not be able to stay ’way ?” queried she, with a sharp glance. } “Oh, you can guess, Aunt Pallas. I shan’t tell you.” “People isn’t allers satisfied with guessing—like to have things plain, and no mistake ’bout ’em,” observed Pallas. “Just so. J am not satisfied with guessing who tried to kill me, and what their object was. I am going to ask Alice, this evening. She’s evidently frightened about me; she won't let me stir a step alone. So you think your ‘Pickaninny i is the best and the prettiest child alive, do you?” | “Dat I do.” “So do I. What do you suppose she thinks of such a worthless kind of a person as myself? Do, now, tell me, won't you, auntie ?” “ You clar out, young masser, and don’t bozzer me. Tse busy wid dis ironin’. You'd better ask er, if yer want to find out.” comilcnoooks.c©