Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob
coming from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked
into a sad, little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with
tears.
"What is the matter, William?" she coldly asked.
"I ain't never slep' by myself," he sobbed. "Wilkes Booth
Lincoln always sleep on a pallet by my bed ever sence we's born
an'--'I wants Aunt Cindy to tell me 'bout Uncle Piljerk Peter."
His aunt sat down on the bed by his side. She was not versed in
the ways of childhood and could not know that the little boy
wanted to pillow his head on Aunt Cindy's soft and ample bosom,
that he was homesick for his black friends, the only companions
he had ever known.
"I'll you a Bible story," she temporized. "You must not be a
baby. You are not afraid, are you, William? God is always with
you."
"I don' want no God," he sullenly made reply, "I wants somebody
with sho' 'nough skin an' bones, an'--n' I wants to hear 'bout
Uncle Piljerk Peter.
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