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She said ter herse'f, 'I ain't gwine ter be like dat foolish Cheery, dancin' an' laughin' foreber, caze she thinks such things ez flowers an' grass kin make folks happy; but I'm gwine ter do er rael good ter eb'ybody," so she laid er spell on de stone, so dat w'en anybody sot on de stone an' wush anything dey'd hab jes w'at dey wush fur; an' so as ter let er heap er folks wush at once, she made it so dat eb'y wush would make de stone twice ez big ez 'twuz befo'.
"Well, Massa Tom, am yo' gwine out in yo' flyin' machine ag'in to-day?" "Yes, Rad, I think I will take a little flight. Perhaps I'll go over to Waterford, and call on Mr. Damon. I haven't seen very much of him, since we got back from our hunt after the diamond-makers." "Take a run clear ober t' Waterfield; eh, Massa Tom?" "Yes, Rad.
I ain' nuver stood de taste er nuttin' ole lessen he be a 'possum, en w'en hit comes ter en ole man, I d'clar hit des tuns my stomick clean inside out." "But, Aunt Polly, you're old yourself-it's disgraceful." Aunt Polly chuckled with flattered vanity. "I know I is, honey I know I is, but I'se gwine ter hev a young husban' at de een ef hit tecks de ve'y las' cent I'se got.
He looked behind him and all around into the woods, and then urged his horse close to mine. "Mas' Tom," he said, almost in a whisper, "dere's gwine t' be hell at d' plantation foh long. Youse stay 'way fum it." I looked at him, still more astonished by his singular behavior. A full-blooded negro does not turn pale, but under the influence of great terror his skin grows spotted and livid.
"Isn't there a single chicken left?" hopelessly persisted the old lady. "Who gwine lef' 'em? Ain' dose low-lifeted sodgers dat rid by yestiddy done stole de las' one un 'um off de nes'?" Mrs. Lightfoot sternly remonstrated. "They were our own soldiers, Rhody, and they don't steal they merely take." "I don' see de diffunce," sniffed Aunt Rhody.
Who's gwine to be de sheep, an' who's gwine to be de goats? Let's all try to be like de li'l white lambs, bredern. Shall we be de goats, sisters? Naw, we's gwine to be de sheep. Who's gwine to be de sheep, bredern, an' who's gwine to be de goats? Tak' care ob youh souls, sisters; tak' care ob youh souls. Remember, dere's gwine to be goats an' sheep.
"Then she has spoken. What did she say?" The colored man hesitated. "As I said befo', sah, I don't rackon I ought to answer dat dar question." "But you must answer me, Ben to keep silent is foolish. Rest assured I have the best interests of my aunt and Marion at heart. Now what did she say?" "Well, sah, if yo' must know, she said as how she was gwine to leave Massah Jack half de prop'ty." St.
'Bout hahf way to de mahket, I meets a couple o' stewards f'm a U.S. navy cutter anchored off de navy yard. "Hol' on, dar, boy, 'dey sing out, 'wha you gwine so fas'? Grab dis here basket an' tote hit down to de dock.
"Lawd, ole miss, you ain' gwine do dat, is you?" anxiously questioned Uncle Boaz as he filled her glass. She lifted the wine to her lips, her stern face softening. Like many a high-spirited woman doomed to perpetual inaction, her dominion over her servants had grown to represent the larger share of life. "Then be more careful in future, Boaz," she cautioned.
I done remembuhed. He done say somethin' 'bout dat white woman's gol' an' jewelery. Gawd! Dat's whut he done. He done it! Dat's why he wuz fightin' me. He wuz tryin' to git dat kitchen key. An' he got it! He got it! Ef he done kilt dat woman, de white folks goin' to git him sho'ly sho'ly. An' him an' me ain' nevuh gwine git married nevuh. Dey'll kill him or dey'll sen' him to dat pen. Aw, my Gawd!
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