But all of a sudden one of his
crazy streaks come bulging to the surface. It come
with a wild, eager look in his eyes.
"Suh," he cries out, all of a sudden, "ef yo' kin
make me white, fo' Gawd sakes, do hit! Do hit!
Ef yo' does, I gwine ter bless yo' all yo' days!
"Yo' don' know--no one kin guess or comper-
hen'--what des bein' white would mean ter me!
Lawd! Lawd!" he says, his voice soft-spoken,
but more eager than ever as he went on, and plead-
ing something pitiful to hear, "des think of all de
Caucasian blood in me! Gawd knows de nights
er my youth I'se laid awake twell de dawn come
red in de Eas' a-cryin' out ter Him only fo' ter be
white! DES TER BE WHITE! Don' min' dem black,
black niggers dar--don' think er DEM--dey ain't
wuth nothin' nor fitten fo' no fate but what dey
got-- But me! What's done kep' me from gwine
ter de top but dat one thing: _I_ WASN'T WHITE! Hit
air too late now--too late fo' dem ambitions I
done trifle with an' shove behin' me--hit's too
late fo' dat! But ef I was des ter git one li'l
year o' hit--ONE LI'L YEAR O' BEIN' WHITE!--befo'
I died--"
And he went on like that, shaking and stuttering
there in the road, like a fit had struck him, crazy
as a loon. But he got hold of himself enough to
quit talking, in a minute, and his cunning come
back to him before he was through trembling.
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