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"No, I ain't, an' I been livin' a mighty sight longah'n you, too. I knows all 'bout when de stahs fell, but dey ain' nevah done no singin' dat I knows 'bout." "Do heish, Mam' Henry, you sho' su'prises me. W'y, dat ain' happenin's, dat's Scripter." "Look hyeah, gal, don't you tell me dat's Scripter, an' me been a-settin' undah de Scripter fu' nigh onto sixty yeah."
He kissed 'Nita!" shrieked the After-Clap. Broussard and Anita, standing in the circle of eyes, were much embarrassed; Kettle, grabbing the After-Clap, shook him well, saying: "Heish yo' mouth! you didn't see no sich a thing!" This only increased the After-Clap's indignation, and he bawled louder than ever: "I see Mr. Broussard kiss 'Nita! I see him kiss my 'Nita."
Northcope when he comes, and I'll try to make my Harrison pride sustain me when I give up to him everything I have held dear. Oh, mammy, mammy!" "Heish, chile, sh, sh, er go on, dat's right, yo' eyes is open now an' you kin cry a little weenty bit. It'll do you good.
"Hi, oh, Brothah Jim, I's des' in time." Jim sat with his mouth open. "Draw up a cheer, Brothah Pahkah," said Mandy. Her husband rose, and put his hand over the possum. "Wha wha'd you come hyeah fu'?" he asked. "I thought I'd des' come in an' tek a bite wid you." "Ain' gwine tek no bite wid me," said Jim. "Heish," said Mandy, "wha' kin' o' way is dat to talk to de preachah?"
The question of concealing Don and his ragged ears came up. It was necessary to catch him and keep him from the house. We started up the slope after him. As we climbed the hill we heard them. "Dee got a ole hyah now; come on," exclaimed one or two of the younger negroes; but old Limpy-Jack came to a halt, and turning his head to one side listened. "Heish!
A person, now, would take you for ninety, and to my positive knowledge, you're not more than eighty-five." "Oh, Lawd. Mastah, do heish." "I'm not flattering you, that's the truth." "Well, now, Mawse Gawge, couldn' you mek me' look lak eighty-fo', an' be a little youngah?" "Why, what do you want to be younger for?" "You see, hit's jes' lak dis, Mawse Gawge.
"Zach Shackelford!" exclaimed some of the men, and there was a general movement among them, but a glance from Turner quieted the commotion. "Why, yes, I know your son," he said. "He's in here almost every night, and he's pretty sure to drop in a little later on. He has been singing with one of the colored companies here until a couple of weeks ago." "Heish up; you don't say so.
"Hi, oh, Brothah Jim, at it agin?" Jim did not reply. "Well, des' heish up an' go 'long. We got to mek some 'lowances fu' you young convu'ts. Wen you gwine cook dat 'possum, Brothah Jim?" "I do' know, Brothah Pahkah. He so po', I 'low I haveter keep him and fatten him fu' awhile." "Uh, huh! well, so long, Jim." "So long, Brothah Pahkah." Jim chuckled as he went away. "I 'low I fool dat ol' fox.
"Oh, yes, but change of work is rest. And how's the rheumatism, now, any better?" "Bettah? Why, Mawse Gawge, I ain' got a smidgeon of hit. I's jes' limpin' a leetle bit on 'count o' habit." "Well, it's good if one can get well, even if his days are nearly spent." "Heish, Mas' Gawge. I ain' t'inkin' 'bout dyin'." "Aren't you ready yet, in all these years?"
"You goin' to give me de pleasure of yo' comp'ny to de dance aftah de festabal?" some ardent and early swain would murmur to his lady love, and the whisper would fly back in well-feigned affright, "Heish, man, you want to have Brothah Todbu'y chu'chin' me?" But if the swain persisted, there was little chance of his being ultimately refused.
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