So all dem folks shake dere hands an’ ’low “Howdy,” an’ some ob dem say: “Why, dere’s li’l’ Mose! Howdy, li’l’ Mose!” An’ he so please’ he jes grin’ an’ grin’, ’ca’se he ain’t reckon whut gwine happen. So byme-by Sally Ann, whut live up de road, she say’, “Ain’t no sort o’ Hallowe’en lest we got a jack-o’-lantern.” An’ de school-teacher, whut board at Unc’ Silas Diggs’s house, she ’low’, “Hallowe’en jes no Hallowe’en _at_ all ’thout we got a jack-o’-lantern.” An’ li’l’ black Mose he stop’ a-grinnin’, an’ he scrooge’ so far back in de corner he ’mos’ scrooge frough de wall. But dat ain’t no use, ’ca’se he ma say’, “Mose, go on down to de pumpkin-patch an’ fotch a pumpkin.”

“I ain’t want to go,” say’ li’l’ black Mose.

The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, October, 1913 — Part 53

“Go on erlong wid yo’,” say’ he ma, right commandin’.

The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, October, 1913 — Part 53

“‘WHUT YO’ WANT TO SAY UNTO ME?’ _IN_QUIRE’ LI’L’ BLACK MOSE”]

The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, October, 1913 — Part 53

“’Ca’se I’s afraid ob de ghosts,” say’ li’l’ black Mose, an’ dat de particular truth an’ no mistake.

“Dey ain’t no ghosts,” say’ de school-teacher, whut board at Unc’ Silas Diggs’s house, right peart.

“’Ca’se dey ain’t no ghosts,” say’ Zack Badget, whut dat ’fear’d ob ghosts he ain’t dar’ come to li’l’ black Mose’s house ef de school-teacher ain’t ercompany him.

“Go ’long wid your ghosts!” say’ li’l’ black Mose’s ma.

“Wha’ yo’ pick up dat nomsense?” say’ he pa. “Dey ain’t no ghosts.”

An’ dat whut all dat s’prise-party ’low: dey ain’t no ghosts. An’ dey ’low dey mus’ hab a jack-o’-lantern or de fun all sp’iled. So dat li’l’ black boy whut he name is Mose he done got to fotch a pumpkin from de pumpkin-patch down de hollow. So he step’ outen de shanty an’ he stan’ on de door-step twell he get’ he eyes pried open as big as de bottom ob he ma’s wash-tub, mostly, an’ he say’, “Dey ain’t no ghosts.” An’ he put’ one foot on de ground, an’ dat was de fust step.

An’ li’l’ black Mose he tuck anudder step.

An’ de owl mourn’ out, “Whut-_whoo_-o-o-o!”

An’ li’l’ black Mose he tuck anudder step.

An’ li’l’ black Mose he tuck one look ober he shoulder, an’ he shut he eyes so tight dey hurt round de aidges, an’ he pick’ up he foots an’ run. Yas, sah, he run’ right peart fast. An’ he say’: “Dey ain’t no ghosts. Dey ain’t no ghosts.” An’ he run’ erlong de paff whut lead’ by de buryin’-ground on de hill, ’ca’se dey ain’t no fince eround dat buryin’-ground _at_ all.