“Well, Uncle Remus,” the little boy explained, “it was lying there all by itself, and I just thought I’d fetch it out to you.

“Dat’s so, honey,” said Uncle Remus, greatly mollified; “dat’s so, kaze by now some er dem yuther niggers ’ud er done had her lit up.  Dey er mighty biggity, dem house niggers is, but I notices dat dey don’t let nuthin’ pass.  Dey goes ’long wid der han’s en der mouf open, en w’at one don’t ketch de tother one do.”

There was another pause, and finally the little boy said: 

“Uncle Remus, you know you promised to-day to tell me why the ’Possum has no hair on his tail.”

“Law, honey! ain’t you done gone en fergot dat off’n yo’ mine yit?  Hit look like ter me,” continued the old man, leisurely refilling his pipe, “dat she sorter run like dis:  One time ole Brer Possum, he git so hungry, he did, dat he bleedzd fer ter have a mess er ’simmons.  He monstus lazy man, old Brer Possum wuz, but bimeby his stummick ’gun ter growl en holler at ’im so dat he des hatter rack ‘roun’ en hunt up sump’n; en w’iles he wuz rackin’ ‘roun’, who sh’d he run up wid but Brer Rabbit, en dey wuz hail-fellers, kaze Brer Possum, he ain’t bin bodder’n Brer Rabbit like dem yuther creeturs.  Dey sot down by de side er de big road, en dar dey jabber en confab ’mong wunner nudder, twel bimeby old Brer Possum, he take ‘n tell Brer Rabbit dat he mos’ pe’sh out, en Brer Rabbit, he lip up in de a’r, he did, en smack his han’s tergedder, en say dat he know right whar Brer Possum kin git a bait er ’simmons.  Den Brer Possum, he say whar, en Brer Rabbit, he say w’ich ’twuz over at Brer B’ar’s ’simmon orchard.”

“Did the Bear have a ’simmon orchard, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked.

“Co’se, honey, kaze in dem days Brer B’ar wuz a bee-hunter.  He make his livin’ findin’ bee trees, en de way he fine um he plant ’im some ’simmon-trees, w’ich de bees dey’d come ter suck de ’simmons en den ole Brer B’ar he’d watch um whar dey’d go, en den he’d be mighty ap’ fer ter come up wid um.  No matter ’bout dat, de ’simmon patch ’uz dar des like I tell you, en ole Brer Possum mouf ‘gun ter water soon’s he year talk un um, en mos’ ‘fo’ Brer Rabbit done tellin’ ’im de news, Brer Possum, he put out, he did, en ’twa’n’t long ‘fo’ he wuz perch up in de highes’ tree in Brer B’ar ’simmon patch.  But Brer Rabbit, he done ‘termin’ fer ter see some fun, en w’iles all dis ’uz gwine on, he run ‘roun’ ter Brer B’ar house, en holler en tell ’im w’ich dey wuz somebody ‘stroyin’ un his ’simmons, en Brer B’ar, he hustle off fer ter ketch ’im.

“Eve’y now en den Brer Possum think he year Brer B’ar comin’, but he keep on sayin’, sezee: 

“’I’ll des git one ‘simmon mo’ en den I’ll go; one ‘simmon mo’ en den I’ll go.’