Ise 'fraid to go fru de woods in de dark." "Nonsense," cried Harry.

"Nothing's going to hurt you.

Come on over." "Can't do it, Mah'sr Harry, no how," said Tom.

"Ise got ter tote dis hyar buttermilk home; dey's a-waitin' fur it now.

But p'r'aps Jim'll go fur you.