Pudd’nhead Wilson · Chapter 14 (2/2)

“Den you’s all right. If he don’t die in six months, dat don’t make no diff’rence⁠—Providence’ll provide. You’s gwyne to be safe⁠—if you behaves.” She bent an austere eye on him and added, “En you is gwyne to behave⁠—does you know dat?”

He laughed and said he was going to try, anyway. She did not unbend. She said gravely:

“Tryin’ ain’t de thing. You’s gwyne to do it. You ain’t gwyne to steal a pin⁠—’ca’se it ain’t safe no mo’; en you ain’t gwyne into no bad comp’ny⁠—not even once, you understand; en you ain’t gwyne to drink a drop⁠—nary single drop; en you ain’t gwyne to gamble one single gamble⁠—not one! Dis ain’t what you’s gwyne to try to do, it’s what you’s gwyne to do. En I’ll tell you how I knows it. Dis is how. I’s gwyne to foller along to Sent Louis my own self; en you’s gwyne to come to me every day o’ yo’ life, en I’ll look you over; en if you fails in one single one o’ dem things⁠—jist one⁠—I take my oath I’ll come straight down to dis town en tell de Jedge you’s a nigger en a slave⁠—en prove it!” She paused to let her words sink home. Then she added, “Chambers, does you b’lieve me when I says dat?”

Tom was sober enough now. There was no levity in his voice when he answered:

“Yes, mother, I know, now, that I am reformed⁠—and permanently. Permanently⁠—and beyond the reach of any human temptation.”

“Den g’ long home en begin!”