"Is this always your work?" asked Ann, by way of opening a conversation
with the old man.

"In cose 'tis," he replied; "who dat gwine ter make de baskits les'n
hit's me? I done make baskits 'fo mistiss wuz born; I usen ter 'long ter
her pa; I ain't no bort nigger myse'f."

"You are certainly very fortunate," answered Ann, "for the slave that
has never been on the block can never know the full bitterness of
slavery."

"Wy, yer talkin' same ez wite folks," said Uncle Bob. "Whar yer git all
dem fine talkin's fum? ain't you er nigger same ez me?"

"Yes, I am a negress, Uncle Bob; or, rather, my mother was a slave, and
I was born in slavery; but I have had the misfortune to have been
educated."

"Kin yer read in de book?" asked the old man earnestly.

"Oh yes, as well as anybody."

"Who showed yer?" asked Uncle Bob.

"My mistress had me taught; but, if it won't bother you, I'll just tell
you all about it, for I want to get your interest, Uncle Bob, and gain
your love, if I can--yours, and everybody's on the place--for I am sick,
and must die, and I want to make friends, so they will be kind to my
baby. Shall I tell you my story?"