"Yes!--oh, I reckon! _co'se_ you'd like to know--wid yo' po' little ole
rag dollah. What you reckon I's gwine to tell _you_ for?--you ain't got
no money. I's gwine to tell yo' uncle--en I'll do it dis minute,
too--he'll gimme FIVE dollahs for de news, en mighty glad, too."

She swung herself around disdainfully, and started away. Tom was in a
panic. He seized her skirts, and implored her to wait. She turned and
said, loftily:

"Look-a-heah, what 'uz it I tole you?"

"You--you--I don't remember anything. What was it you told me?"

"I tole you dat de next time I give you a chance you'd git down on yo'
knees en beg for it."

Tom was stupefied for a moment. He was panting with excitement. Then he
said:

"Oh, Roxy, you wouldn't require your young master to do such a horrible
thing. You can't mean it."

"I'll let you know mighty quick whether I means it or not! You call me
names, en as good as spit on me when I comes here, po' en ornery en
'umble, to praise you for bein' growed up so fine and handsome, en tell
you how I used to nuss you en tend you en watch you when you 'uz sick en
hadn't no mother but me in de whole worl', en beg you to give de po' ole
nigger a dollah for to get her som'n' to eat, en you call me
names--_names_, dad blame you! Yassir, I gives you jes one chance mo',