"Yes," said Alice quietly, "I think so too."
"But, Alice, I don't like yer goin' home to de old country; I don't see how I can spare yer. I don't brame yer, nuther; I'd go wid yer if it wuz not for my old pardner here. If ole dad would on'y die now! but he won't—he aint got no proper feelin' for me, dat ole man haint. He wouldn't inconvene hisself—he wouldn't jest die—no, not to obleedge de best frien' he haz in de world—and dat's me; no he wouldn't. An' I don't jest like to turn my back on him after keepin' him on so long; but I really tink he grows tougher an' stronger ebery day he libs. An' why shouldn't he, when he eats all he can get, right hand and lef' hand, fit to beat all nater?"
"Oh, Winny, Winny! do let the poor old man have enough to eat."
"Enuff! yes, ob course—but what is enuff? I'd like to know dat; you don't know, an' I'm sure he don't. Why, he'll eat all I can sot afore him, an' den, if anudder chance comes along, he's ready for it—he'll jest turn to, an' eat jest as much more.
