"I specs ole Marse'll be real lonesome when I'm gone.

An' won't he be hoppin' mad when he finds I'm a goner?
I specs he'll hate it like pizen." "O, well," said Robert, "the best of friends must part.

Don't let it grieve you." "I'se gwine to take my wife an' chillen," said one of the company.
"I'se got nobody but myself," said Tom; "but dere's a mighty putty young gal dere at Marse Tom's.

I wish I could git her away.

Dey tells me dey's been sellin' her all ober de kentry; but dat she's a reg'lar spitfire; dey can't lead nor dribe her." "Do you think she would go with us ?" said Robert.
"I think she's jis' dying to go.