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Now I want to ast you: what's de use er dat half a bill? can't buy noth'n wid it. En what use is a half a chile? I wouldn' give a dern for a million un um." "But hang it, Jim, you've clean missed the point blame it, you've missed it a thousand mile." "Who? Me? Go 'long. Doan' talk to me 'bout yo' pints. I reck'n I knows sense when I sees it; en dey ain' no sense in sich doin's as dat.
"I'm going to Paris tomorrow, Chris," said Andrews. "Ah know it, boy. Ah know it. That's why I was that right smart to talk to you.... You doan want to go to Paris.... Why doan ye come up to Germany with us? Tell me they live like kings up there." "All right," said Andrews, "let's go to the back room at Babette's." Chrisfield hung on his shoulder, walking unsteadily beside him.
There's a pair of Mr. Becker's old shoes, good as new, waiting to be given away." "Carrie!" "Miss Lilly loves pickles. George, do as I say." "Carrie!" "Law! Mistah Beckah, I knows Mis' Beckah and her ways. Law! I doan take no offense." "I wish if you want extras, Carrie, you would buy them. It is a darn shame to make yourself so small before the other boarders."
Tryon, with parted lips and slowly hardening heart, leaned forward from the buggy-seat, gripping the rein so tightly that his nails cut into the opposing palm. Above the clatter of noisy conversation rose the fiddler's voice: "Swing yo' pa'dners; doan be shy, Look yo' lady in de eye! Th'ow yo' ahm aroun' huh wais'; Take yo' time dey ain' no has'e!"
They pointed along the floor, then up the wall to the ceiling, where they both avowed that they saw Goodwife Nurse and the black man, or demon, dancing with their heels up and heads down. The negro clapped his hands, patted his foot on the floor and cried aloud: "Doan yer see um, Marster? doan yer see um, chillun?"
"I went for help to Annie Marshey. Her babies had had it. Her husband was going to town and she said he would get the medicine for me. She did not tell him it was for me. He would not have done it for you. He did not know. So I gave her a dollar to give him to bring it out to me. "He came home in the snow last night. Baby was bad by that time, so I was watching for Doan.
Brown," he said, "I ain' gitt'n' 'long very well wid my ole 'oman." "What 's the trouble?" asked the lawyer, with business-like curtness, for he did not scent much of a fee. "Well, de main trouble is she doan treat me right. An' den she gits drunk, an' wuss'n dat, she lays vi'lent han's on me. I kyars de marks er dat 'oman on my face now." He showed the lawyer a long scratch on the neck.
"Cun'l De Willoughby, now," he said; "doan' you s'pose dar's some back pay owin' to him for de damage dat yaller fever done him wot he done cotch from de army?" Rupert laughed a little bitterly. "No," he said, "I'm afraid not." "What dey gwine to refun', den?" said Matt. "Dat's what I'd like ter fin' out. Dis hyer idee of refun'in' please me mightily.
Aun' Sheba had heard and recognized his voice, and she went through the throng like a puffing tug through driftwood. "Mister Buggone," she said, with the sternness of fate, "ef yer doan stop yer noise you'se 'lowance stop heah and now. Yer'll hab ter wuck shuah or starbe, fer if yer doan come wid me now yer neber come agin." Uncle Sheba went away with her, meek as a lamb.
"What do you mean, Kettle, by bringing the baby out this time of night?" asked the surprised Anita. "I got him all wropped up warm," answered Kettle, apologetically, pointing to the After-Clap's white fur coat and cap. "But that chile knowed there wuz a hoss show on it's mighty little he doan' know, and after the Kun'l and Miss Betty lef', he begin' to cry for 'Horsey!
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