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Not on'y for a hypocrite; but for a pi'son, 'ceitful, lyin' white nigger!" said Katie, with her eyes snapping. "Katie, Katie, you are using ugly words," remonstrated the judge. "Not half so venomous ugly as dem I applies 'em to, begging your pardon, ole marse," said the woman, with a positive nod of her head.
"While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away," said the injured man. "That is so," agreed Doctor Sanford, "so I'll go and find the Sheriff." Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway, and she grabbed Jimmy by the arm. "Yaas," she cried, "you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh 'ceitful caterpillar. Come on home dis minute."
"Dey does say, Brer Dolittle, dat riches is mighty 'ceitful an' mighty ap' ter turn a man's head, an' I tookin' notice dat arter you fetched up Brer Chesterfiel' Jones's five dollars to-day you nuver corndescended ter meck no secon' trip to de hat on Brer Dolittle's 'count.
W'en he come ober to our place it wuz des ez bad, 'tel bimeby Wiley seed dat Dilsey had got ter thinkin' a heap 'bout Dave, en den he sorter hilt off aw'ile, en purten' lack he gin Dilsey up. But he wuz one er dese yer 'ceitful niggers, en w'ile he wuz laffin' en jokin' wid de yuther han's 'bout Dave en Dilsey, he wuz settin' a trap fer ter ketch Dave en git Dilsey back fer hisse'f.
"Don't you let him go, ole marse! he's one nasty, 'ceitful, lyin', white nigger as ebber libbed! He did do it, and he needn't 'ny it, not while I'm standin' here! Don't you let him go, ole marse! he's cunnin' as de debbil, and he'd run away, sure as ebber you's born! You take my 'vice and don't you let him go! he artful as ole Sam!" "Katie, Katie, Katie!" remonstrated Ishmael, in a low voice.
W'en he come ober to our place it wuz des ez bad, 'tel bimeby Wiley seed dat Dilsey had got ter thinkin' a heap 'bout Dave, en den he sorter hilt off aw'ile, en purten' lack he gin Dilsey up. But he wuz one er dese yer 'ceitful niggers, en w'ile he wuz laffin' en jokin' wid de yuther ban's 'bout Dave en Dilsey, he wuz settin' a trap fer ter ketch Dave en git Dilsey back fer hisse'f.
But 't ain't gwine ter do you no good. I mout er let you off ef you 'd a-minded me w'en I fus holler atter you, but I ain't gwine ter let you off now. I'm a-gwine ter l'arn you a lesson dat 'll stick by you. "Den de creetur sorter wrinkle up he face en mouf, en Brer Wolf 'low: "'Oh, you nee'n'ter swell up en cry, you 'ceitful vilyun.
I seed it in him, but he wouldn't let on. Ain't you men powerful 'ceitful?" "Oh, Aunt Linda, don't put me in with the rest!" "I don't know 'bout dat. Put you all in de bag for 'ceitfulness, an' I don't know which would git out fust." "Well, Aunt Linda, I suppose by this time you know how to read and write?"
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