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"Why, it's all over town that you wuz, and that you found her so prostrated with relaxation of the nerves that her husband couldn't hold her still! You've heard, of co'se, that he's got back at last? Isn't it pathetic?

Of co'se, Sonny, he bein' at home, an' she bein' his company, why, he talks constant, an' she'll glance up at him sort o' sideways occasional. Wife an' me, we find it ez much ez we can do, sometimes, to hold in; we feel so tickled over their cunnin' little ways together.

A faint tingle filtered through Peter's throat and chest, but he asked casually enough what she had said. "Didn' say; she wrote." Peter looked around, frankly astonished. "Wrote?" "Yeah; co'se she wrote." "What made her write?" a fantasy of Ida May dumb flickered before the mulatto. "Why, Ida May's in Nashville." Caroline looked at Peter. "She wrote to Cissie, astin' 'bout you.

Slocomb's life" here the major assumed a reminiscent air, pinching his fat chin with his thumb and forefinger "we had, of co'se, a lot of niggers; but this man Anthony!

"Ya'as, Miss Zoe," he answered, with a broad grin of satisfaction; "dat's what I'se been a workin' for, an' spects to hab sho', kase Miss Elsie, she doan' nebber grudge nuffin' in de way ob praise nor ob wages, when yo's done yo' bes', ob co'se; an' dis chile done do dat, sho's yo' bawn."

Now, Marse Benson, w'at happen to yo' las' night am all in de co'se ob a lifetime, an' Ah hope you ain't got no bad feelin's. Yo' suttinly done learn somet'ing new in de way ob tricks. Good-bye, sab, an' mah compliments to yo', Marse Benson."

"Why, sho'ly, Mars Geo'ge, you could take keer er her better 'n I could better 'n anybody could co'se you could!" Mars Geo'ge was white and rich, and could do anything. Plato was proud of the fact that he had once belonged to Mars Geo'ge.

"Now, it's jest fifteen mile to th' cut," said Tom, disregarding Alfred's question entirely, "an' of co'se they's goin' to send a posse down thar on th' keen jump. That'll take clost onto three hours in this light. Then they'll jest pot us a lot from on top."

"Ananias, do you know who that man is," she asked. "Laws, Miss Vesta, co'se I do. Didn't you hear his hoss-wrangler call him Duke?" "I heard him call him Duke." "He's that man they call Duke of Chimley Butte I know that hoss he's a-ridin'; that hoss used to be Jim Wilder's ole outlaw. That Duke man killed Jim and took that hoss away from him; that's what he done.

She 'lowed Dan had had de nightmare; but w'en dey look' at de do', dey seed de marks er de mule's huffs, so dey could n' be no mistake 'bout w'at had happen'. "Co'se de niggers tol' dey marster 'bout de mule's gwines-on. Fust he did n' pay no 'tention ter it, but atter a w'ile he tol' 'em ef dey did n' stop dey foolis'ness, he gwine tie some un 'em up.