The Resemblance of the Cousins

Among Mr. Middleton's negroes there was a boy twelve years of age whose
name was Bob. On the morning following the incidents narrated in the last
chapter, Bob was sent up to make a fire for "the young marsters." He had
just coaxed the coal and kindlings into a blaze, when Raymond awoke, and
spying the negro, called out, "Hello, there! Tom, Dick, Harry, what may be
your name?"

"My name is Bob, sar."

"Oh, Bob is it? Bob what? Have you no other name?"

"No, sar, 'cept it's Marster Josh. I 'longs to him."

"Belong to Master Josh, do you? His name isn't Josh, it is Joshua."

"Yes, marster."

"Well, then, Bob, if his name is Joshua, what must yours be?" said
Raymond.

"Dun know, unless it's Bobaway," answered the negro, with a broad grin.

"Bobaway! That's rich," said Raymond, laughing heartily at the rapid
advancement of his pupil.

After a moment's pause, he again called out, "I say, Bobaway, did it snow
last night?"

"No, sar, it didn't snow; it done frosted," said Bob.

"Done frosted, hey?" said Raymond. "You're a smart boy, Bob. What'll you
sell yourself for?"

"Dun know; hain't nothing to sell 'cept my t'other hat and a bushel of
hickory-nuts," answered Bob; "but I reckon how marster ax about five
hundred, 'case I's right spry when I hain't got the rheumatiz."