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Co'se dese young gemmens like to frolic an' dey do git dat way sometimes tain't nuthin'. Dem Dorseys was allers like dat " the very tones of his voice carrying such convictions of the young man's respectability that you would have felt safe in keeping a place at your table for the delinquent, despite your knowledge of his habits.
"When my missus inwites pussons to de ball, my missus 'specs dem ar gemmens what is inwited to presarve dar qualifications. If gemmen am gemmen den dey don't cum'd to my missus's ball to suffocate her!" said Bowles, expressing himself, and assuming an air of injured dignity.
"Peggy, this is simply delicious," praised Mrs. Harold. Peggy glowed and Jerome and Mammy beamed, while the little darkies beat a grinning retreat to confide excitedly to Aunt Cynthia: "Dem gemmens an' ladies yonder in de grove was so mighty pleased dat dey jist nachally bleiged fer ter holler and laugh."
"And perhaps the Snowbird won't fly very high; eh?" retorted Jack, letting a little anxiety creep into his voice. "But dat rooster suah kin fly high," said Washington White, eagerly. "Yo' gemmens knows dat he's flowed as high as de moon he, he!" "And 'flowed' is a mighty good word, Wash," chuckled Jack. "Ah! here is the professor, Mark."
By the next morning the widening of ripples caused by the dropping of a high-grade invalid into the still pool of Kennedy Square, spread with such force and persistency that one wavelet overflowed Kate's dressing-room. Indeed, it came in with Mammy Henny and her coffee. "Marse George home, honey Ben done see Todd. Got a mis'ry in his back dat bad it tuk two gemmens to tote him up de steps."
An' didn' we-all walk plumb up de aisle, an' fix her nice an' easy in her pew, an' den slip out an' go down on de crick whar de gemmens wuz waitin', an' shoot dat young Mister Green in de lung?
"We's got der small-pox, and am a-killing de gemmens " "Pen!" cried a man's voice through the smoke a deep, melodious voice. "What!" exclaimed Aunt Pen, starting up, and then pausing as if she fancied the horrid fumes might have befogged her brain. "Pen!" the voice cried again. "Chauncey! Chauncey Read!" she shrieked. "Where do you come from? Am I dreaming?"
When dem white-livered, no-count, onery gemmens dat stole Marse George's money git in de chain-gang, whar dey b'longs, den may be we'll hab sumpin' to go to market on, but dat ain't yit; an' don't ye tell Marse George I tol' yer or I'll ha'nt ye like dat witch I done heared 'bout down to Wesley ha'nt ye so ye'll think de debble's got ye."
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