“Good Lord, Marse Berry! I ain’t said howdy wid none er de folks yit. How come we got ter go right off?” “You can stay, if you choose,” said Berrien. “I reckon you’d be a better negro if you had stayed at home all the time. Right now you ought to be picking your five hundred pounds of cotton every day.” “Now, you know, Marse Berry, dat of you er gwine, I’m gwine too—you know dat p’intedly; but you come in on me so sudden-like dat you sorter git me flustrated.” “Well,” said Berrien, seating himself on the side of the bed and running his fingers through his curling hair, “if you go with me this time you will be taking a big jump in the dark. There’s no telling where you’ll land. Pap has taken the studs, and I have made up my mind to leave here for good and all. You belong to me, but I’ll give you your choice; you can go with me, or you can stay. If you go, I’ll probably get into a tight place and sell you; if you stay, Pap will make a pet of you for my sake.” Regarding this as a very good offhand joke, the young man laughed so loud that the sound of it penetrated to the dining-room, and, mellow and hearty as it was, it struck strangely on the ears of those still sitting at the table. “I knowed in reason dat dey was gwine to be a rippit,” said Balaam; “kaze you know how you been gwine on up yander, Marse Berry. I tole an’ tole you ’bout it, an’ I dunno whar in de name er goodness you’d been ef I hadn’t been right dar fer ter look atter you.” “Yes,” remarked Berrien, sarcastically, “you were just about drunk enough half the time to look after me like a Dutch uncle.” Balaam held his head down and chuckled. “Yes, suh,” he said, “I tuck my dram, dey ain’t no ’sputin’ er dat; yit I never has tuck so much dat I ain’t keep my eye on you. But ’t ain’t do no good: you des went right ’long; an’ dar was ole Mistiss, which she done sick in bed, an’ Miss Sally Carter, which she’s yo’ born cousin—dar dey all was a-specktin’ you ter head de whole school gang. An’ you did head ’em, mon, but not in de books.” “My fair Cousin Sarah!” exclaimed Berrien in a reminiscent way. “Yes, suh,” said Balaam; “an’ dey tells me down in de kitchen dat she comin’ yere dis ve’y day.” “Then,” said the young man, “it is time for me to be going. Get your dinner. If I am to have your company, you must be ready in an hour; if you want to stay, go to the overseer and tell him to put you to work.”