"Oh, my Gawd! my Gawd! And ye ain't daid, and ye come back home ag'in." He was sobbing now, his head on the exile's shoulder, Harry's arms about him--patting his bent back.
"But yer gotter go back, Marse Harry," he moaned.

"He ain't 'sponsible these days.

He didn't know ye! Come 'long, son; come back wid ol' Alec; please come, Marse Harry.

Oh, Gawd! ye GOTTER come!" "No, I'll go home to-night--another day I'll--" "Ye ain't got no home but dis, I tell ye! Go tell him who ye is--lemme run tell him.

I won't be a minute.