Page:The leopard's spots - a romance of the white man's burden-1865-1900 (IA leopardsspotsrom00dixo).pdf/73

 "I knows. You'se er crying 'bout yo Ma."

The boy nodded without looking up.

"Doan do dat way, honey. You'se too little ter cry lak dat. Yer Ma's gittin' better ev'ry day, de doctor done tole me so."

"Do you think so, Nelse?" There was an eagerness and yearning in the child's voice, that would have moved the heart of a stone.

"Cose I does. She be strong en well in little while when cole wedder comes. Frosll soon be here. I see whar er ole rabbit been er eatin' on my turnip tops. Dat's er sho sign. I gwine make you er rabbit box ter-morrer ter ketch dat rabbit."

"Will you, Nelse?"

"Sho's you bawn. Now des lemme pick you er chune on dis banjer 'fo I goes ter my wuk."

Of all the music he had ever heard, the boy thought Nelse's banjo was the sweetest. He accompanied the music in a deep bass voice which he kept soft and soothing. The boy sat entranced. With wide open eyes and half parted lips he dreamed his mother was well, and then that he had grown to be a man, a great man, rich and powerful. Now he was the Governor of the state, living in the Governor's palace, and his mother was presiding at a banquet in his honour. He was bending proudly over her and whispering to her that she was the most beautiful mother in the world. And he could hear her say with a smile,

"You dear boy!"

Suddenly the banjo stopped, and Nelse railed with mock severity, "Now look at 'im er cryin' ergin, en me er pickin' de eens er my fingers off fur 'im!"

"No, I aint cryin'. I am just listenin' to the music. Nelse, you're the greatest banjo player in the world!"

"Na, honey, hits de banjer. Dats de Jo-bloin'est ban-