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No, sah, dat yo' didn't. Well, it's pow'rful heavy fo' a man's baggage." "What's in it?" I asked. "'Deed, I doan know, man, jest what is in it, but I reckon it's something what worries him. Dat an' Cap'n Andrews forrads worries him some. Chips, he say as dey goes aft an' have matters straightened out a bit. Dey is fo' either weldin' irons on de cap'n forrads or puttin' him on de beach.
"I'd be glad to go to work to-morrow, too," said Ella. "I'd be glad of anything to make the time pass." "Why, honey, wot you want de time to pass quick fer? You oughter be like de hummin'-bird, gederin sweets all de day." "I feel more like a croaking raven." "You'se quar, Missy Ella. You'se up an' you'se down, an' you doan know why.
"On the gridiron, on the gridiron!" hummed Tom, audibly, as he tried clumsily to fit the words to the refrain of a popular song. Dick Prescott was "getting warm" on the scent of the hidden meaning. "Shut yo' mouf!" gruffly commanded the lack. "Ah doan' wantah tell yo' dat again, neider." "Right foot -high foot!" chanted Tom. Mentally Dick Prescott jumped as though he had been shot.
"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."
As soon as I am able I'll buy you of uncle and set you free. Then you can always work for me." "I doan wanter lebe you, young mistis, I sut'ny doan, ner der ole place whar I al'ays libed. But freedom sweet, young mistis, en I wanter feel I free befo' I die." "You shall, Uncle Lusthah. You have earned YOUR freedom, anyway." "Tut, tut, Louise, that's no way to talk," said her uncle testily.
As the machine had been there before, we were greeted as friends. The old negro porter is a character, quite the irresponsible head of the entire establishment. "Law's sakes! you heah agen? glad to see you; whar you come from dis time? Rochester! No, foh sure? dis mawning? you doan say so; that jes' beats me; to think I live to see a thing like that; it's a reg'lar steam-engine, aint it?"
"I doan hardly know, but I's eider eighty-fo' ur eighty-six." "An' nobody's life could have been given mo' away in love to others." "I hopes dat my soul is white, Mars Jasper." "As white as a lamb, washed in the dew." "Thank you, Mars Jasper, fur I ain't gwine be yere much longer, fur I's er gwine home.
Lindy, like many of her race, knew well how to assume airs of importance. Lindy had me down, and she knew it. "Marse Dave," she said, "doan yo' know better'n dat? Yo' know yo' ain't ter talk. Lawsy, I reckon I wouldn't be wuth pizen if she was to hear I let yo' talk." Lindy implied that there was tyranny somewhere. "She?" I asked, "who's she?"
"He had 'leven cents, an' he was talkin' 'bout Indians an' cowboys." "Yes, he's crazy about 'em," answered Bert. "We're going out West you know." "Is you?" asked the man, as the elevator went down. "Well, de West am a mighty big place. I suah hopes yo' l'il brother doan git lost in de big West."
"I should like to see him," said Rupert; "I always thought I should like to know where he was if he was alive." "Why doan' you go an' see him, den?" said Matt. "Jest take yo' foot in yo' han' an' start out.
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