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An' when dey talk' back at her, she up an' she says, 'Look-a-heah! she says, 'I want you niggers to understan' dat I wa'n't bawn in de mash be fool' by trash! I's one o' de ole Blue Hen's chickens, I is! an' den she clar' dat kitchen an' bandage' up de chile herse'f. So I says dat word, too, when I's riled.
"But dar ain't nuffin else ter do!" exclaimed Grandison, "an' ef I don't do dat, away goes de truf, clar out o' sight. An' wot sort o' 'ligion you call dat, Brudder 'Bijah?" "'Tain't no kind at all," said 'Bijah, "fur we's bound ter stick to de truf, which is de bottom corner-stone ob piousness. But dem apples don't seem ter git demselves straightened out in my mind, Brudder Gran'son."
Chile's fine chile, good chile, but summonelse chile! Chile's gone, Clar'; but all ish'n't gone, Clar'. Conshider dearesht, you all's have me!" Mrs. Starbottle started to her feet. "YOU!" she cried, bringing out a chest note that made the chandeliers ring "You that I married to give my darling food and clothes YOU! a dog that I whistled to my side to keep the men off me YOU!"
You see, my wife was giben by de ole man to missy when her war a little girl, and fortunate it was dat he had made out de papers all right and presented dem to her. When missy gib her de papers ob freedom, she cry bery much. 'Me 'fraid bad time coming, Sally, she said. 'Me tink dat it better for a time dat you clar out ob dis.
"O, you ain't ben to Boston; that's clar," said Zac, mildly. "Jest you wait till you see Boston; that's all." "Boston! I nevare hear of Boston," said Margot, "till you tell me. I do not believe eet it is more magnifique dan Paris." "The most magnificent town in the hull world," said Zac, calmly.
"You are a wicked, hardened old sinner!" declared the old lady, vehemently. "Nor, I ain't, mist'is; I clar' I ain't," protested Jabez, with unruffled front. "You treat your wives dreadfully." "Nor, I don't, mist'is. You ax 'em ef I does. Ef I did, dee would n' be so many of 'em anxious t' git me. Now, would dee? I can start in an' beat a' one o' dese young bloods aroin' heah, now."
The old man thrust the empty goblet under his coat and quickly returned with another, invitingly frosted. "Ain' she turr'ble sometimes, Marse Brent?" he asked in a confidential undertone. "She done tol' me yisterday dat I'se gwine git th'owed clar to de bottom of hell, an' den criss-cross all over de coals, ef I don' stop makin' juleps for Marse John an' you!
De cook she dun leff, an' I's cookin' ontwill yer grandmar git somebody. Ef you don' belieb me, ax yer mar. Ennyhow, I's gwine to 'quaint yer mar with yer conduck, axin' so many perterment questions." "But, who are the birds for?" persisted Nelly. "I know mamma never eats birds, and grandmamma isn't sick." "I 'clar, Miss Nelly, I's outdone wid you. Go outer heah, 'fore I calls yer grandmar."
Dat's jes de ting, jes what we wants an' hez got ter hev. Plenty o' scholars h'yer-abouts, an' de church fer a school-house an' Bre'er 'Liab fer de teacher! 'Clar fer it, Bre'er'Liab, you hez got ahead-piece, dat's a fac'. Now I nebber tink of all dat togedder. Mout hev come bimeby, little to a time, but not all to wonst like, as 'tis wid you. Lord, how plain I sees it all now!
A clar, straight-out lie!" interrupted Lugena. "Nimbus don't owe nobody nary cent not nary cent, Miss Mollie! Tole me dat hisself jest a little time ago." "Yes, but this man claims he owes him swears so, in fact; and that he has run away or hidden to keep from paying it," said Mollie. "He swears he is a non-resident don't live here, you know; lives out of the State somewhere."
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