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An' w'en dat Sally Alley done lay him on hes side, wid de los' laig down, hit was jes' a pitcher jes' a pitcher!" declared Uncle Rufus, reminiscent yet of the long past feast-day. "Wal, dar warn't ne'der ob de waitresses willin' tuh tak' dat goose in an' put it down befo' Mars' Colby naw'm! So dat yaller gal had to put on a clean han'kercher an' ap'on, an' do it her own se'f.
Molly put the coffee pot down by the ice water, dropped the dish towel into the wood box and allowed herself to be kissed, laughing gayly at the old darkey's expression of amusement. "Oh, yes, wife, wife, wife! That's all one er these here green husbands kin say. But I see right here ef I is comp'ny done come to spen' de day, I'd bes' put on a ap'on and git ter wuck.
Letty-Lou, she don' hav' to git her a pay-work job, her pappy mak's him a good livin'. But Miss 'Chanda ain' a-goin' to tak' keer dis big hous' all by herself wit' her lil' han's dere. We's Ralestone folks. Letty-Lou, yo' gits on youah ap'on an' gits to work." "But we can't let her," Ricky raised her last protest. "Miss 'Chanda, we's Ralestone folks.
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