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"One reason Marse Morgan thought so much o' me, dey say I was a right peart young'n' an' caught on to anything pretty quick. But all de time I mus' a-had a right smart mind, 'cause I'd play 'roun' de white folks an' hear what dey'd say an' den go tell de Niggers. Don't guess de marster ever thought 'bout me doin' dat. "I was born an' bred 'bout seven miles from Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
Leastways, Tommy Loud's young'n turned up missin' the day he skipped, an' we ain't seen nothin' of 'er since." "Is this she?" I asked, leading him to the cot. Hardly looking at the child, he raised her in his arms and kissed her. "God be praised, sir," he said with a show of feeling. "We 'ave got her back.
This individual was naturally Mr. Doty himself. "Minty," he said, "don't ye let him fool ye. Don't ye know Tom D'Willerby by this time? Ye'd orter. It's jest some o' his gas. Don't ye s'pose he hain't got no more sense? What'd he do with it?" "Ye can believe it or not," replied Mrs. Doty, sharply, "but he's gwine to raise that young'n, as shore as your name's Job. Mornin's got her this minute."
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