mayby yer'll git so yer kin he'p me arter 'while."

"Mayby so," Alston answered.

"But yer wouldn't he'p me, I reckon. Reckon yer'd he'p Edny Ann: yer likes
her better'n me."

"No, I don't."

"Reckon yer likes somebody in Virginny more'n yer likes anybody on this
plantation."

"I's better 'quainted back thar'," said Alston apologetically.

"But thar' ain't no use hankerin' arter them yer's lef 'hin' yer: reckon
yer won't never see um no mo'. Heap better git sati'fied yere. It's a long
way back thar', ain't it?"

"A mighty long way," said Alston; and then he was silent, his thoughts
going back and back over the long way.

Lizay recalled him: "Was yer sorry yer had ter whip me?"

"I was mighty sorry, Little Lizay," he replied with a strong tone of
tenderness that made her heart beat faster. "I would er knocked that white
nigger down, but it wouldn't er he'ped nothin'. Things would er jus' been
wusser."

"Yes," Lizay assented, "nothin' won't he'p us: ain't no use in nothin'."