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"Hi, oh, Brothah Jim, at it agin?" Jim did not reply. "Well, des' heish up an' go 'long. We got to mek some 'lowances fu' you young convu'ts. Wen you gwine cook dat 'possum, Brothah Jim?" "I do' know, Brothah Pahkah. He so po', I 'low I haveter keep him and fatten him fu' awhile." "Uh, huh! well, so long, Jim." "So long, Brothah Pahkah." Jim chuckled as he went away. "I 'low I fool dat ol' fox.
"Don't give me none yer jaw. Reckon I knows 'nuff ter make 'lowances fer col' an' shawt days an' scatterin' bolls an' sich like." The next day, Alston, humiliated by his failure and by the brutal reprimand he had received, went to the cotton-field before any of the other hands indeed, before it was fairly light. There he worked if ever a man did work.
He's got de drefful temper; got it each side ob de house father and mother, bofe. I hope de good Massa above will make 'lowances for de young man got it bofe ways, he did." And he went thoughtfully back to his work, murmuring hopes and apologies for the man he loved, with all the forgiving unselfishness of a prayer in them. In some respects Plato was right.
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