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"Yes; an' I wan' tersay thish to you, because I'm your fr'en'. Don' wan' anny fr'en's mine get fooled on women! See? Thash how I feel. I respec' the sect! See! Women, lovely women! See? Respec' sect! Gimme y'han', buzzer er brother Quar'er! Your m' fr'en'; I'm your fr'en'. I know how it is. Gotter wife m'own. Rotten one. Stingy! Takes money outter m' pockets. Dam 'stravagant.
Estralla leaned close to her "true fr'en'" and whispered: "I was a- t'inkin' 'bout my breakin' of de pitcher, an' a-spillin' de hot water, Missy Sylvia. You took my part den, Missy, an' you'se allers taken my part. My mammy say she bress de Lord dat you came to Charleston." Sylvia smiled back at the little colored girl.
'A hundred and fifty dollars, sez he; 'but my fr'en' would ask YOU double that. 'Couldn't YOU and ME make a trade? sez I; 'I'll exchange ye that roan mare, that's worth two hundred, for this hoss and fifty dollars. With that he drew himself up, and sez he: 'Mr. Borem, sez he, 'I share my fr'en's opinion about hoss tradin', and I promised my mother I'd never swap hosses.
You ax me ter run home, Little childun Run home, dat sun done roll An' I don't wanter stay yer no longer. Hit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-ten, Christ is de mo'ner's onliest fr'en' An' I don't wanter stay yer no longer; Hit's eighteen hunder'd forty-en-lev'm, Christ 'll be at de do' w'en we all git ter Hev'm An' I don't wanter stay yer no longer.
"My fr'en'," he wailed, in a damp voice, "lemme confess to you. I'm a mis'able man, my fr'en'; perfectly mis'able. These cloves these insidious tropical spices have been thebaneofmyexistence. On Chrishm's night that Chrishm's night I toogtoomany. Wha'scons'q'nce? I put m' nephew an' m' umbrella away somewhere, an 've neverb'n able terremembersince!"
Bigsby with great promptness. "I've heard enough of 'em." "But this here one hez suthin' to do with your fr'en', John Lummox," said Dan'l, with a chuckle. Mrs. Bigsby stared. "Go on, then," she said, "but, for goodness' sake, cut it short." Dan'l threw away his quid and replenished it from his silver tobacco box. Mrs.
"Moike, yez hev a mimory." A big Negro pushed out his huge jaw and blustered at his fellows. "I's a-gwine to bust thet yaller nigger's haid," he declared. "Bill, he's your fr'en'. Cool down, man, cool down," replied a comrade. A teamster was writing a letter in lead-pencil, using a board over his knees. "Jim, you goin' to send money home?" queried a fellow-laborer.
"Missy wants a big pitcher of hot water," replied Estralla, dancing about just beyond Aunt Connie's reach. "Missy Sylvia say to tell you we been carryin' de cake to her fr'en', an' she gwine to tell you, Mammy," explained Estralla when her mammy had finally grasped her firmly by the shoulders. "W'y didn' yo' say dat firs' place?
"'Got a fine hoss thar, sez I; 'reckon I never see such a purty color, sez I. 'He is purty, sez he, 'per'aps too purty for ME to be a-drivin', but he isn't fast. 'I ain't speakin' o' that, sez I; 'it's his looks that I'm talkin' of; whar might ye hev got him? 'He was offered to me by a fr'en' o' me boyhood, sez he; 'he's a pinto mustang, sez he, 'from Californy, whar they breed 'em. 'What's a pinto hoss? sez I. 'The same ez a calico hoss, sez he; 'what they have in cirkises, but ye never see 'em that color. En he was right, for when I looked him over I never DID see such a soft and silky coat, and his mane and tail jest glistened.
'It IS a little too showy for ye, sez I, 'but I might take him at a fair price. What's your fr'en' askin'? 'He won't sell him to anybody but me, sez Lummox; 'he's a horror o' hoss traders, anyway, and his price is more like a gift to a fr'en'. 'What might that price be, ef it's a fair question? sez I, for the more I looked at the hoss the more I liked him.
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