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En eben den he did n' hol' on long ernuff; fer w'en he tu'nt de cunjuh man loose en he fell ober on de flo', de cunjuh man rollt his eyes at Dan, en sezee: "'I's eben wid you, Brer Dan, en you er eben wid me; you killt my son en I killt yo' 'oman.
"Go on erlong wid yo'," say he ma, right commandin'. "I ain't want to go," say Mose ag'in. "Why ain't yo' want to go?" he ma ask. "'Ca'se I's afraid ob de ghosts," say li'l black Mose, an' dat de particular truth an' no mistake. "Dey ain't no ghosts," say de school-teacher, whut board at Unc' Silas Diggs's house, right peart.
Your slave marriage would not have prevented him, for you never lived with him after the war, and without that your marriage doesn't count." "Wouldn' make no diff'ence wid Sam. He wouldn' marry no yuther 'ooman 'tel he foun' out 'bout me. I knows it," she added. "Sump'n's be'n tellin' me all dese years dat I's gwine fin' Sam 'fo I dies."
The beautiful healing sleep lasted for nearly eight hours; then, when faint, cool shadows had stolen across the sick room, little Diana opened her eyes. She saw Iris still kneeling in the same position and looking at her with a world of love in her face. Diana smiled back in answer to the love. "I's k'ite well, Iris," she said.
"I didn' be lost," said she sharply. "I feel jus' like frettin', when you say I's lost. 'Tis the truly truth; I's walking on the streets, and a naughty woman, she's got my hangerfiss had ashes roses on it." "Yes, I put some otto of rose on it this morning," said Prudy. "What a shame!" "And I gave my flowers to the sick man. He was on the bed, with a blue bed-kilt.
"Yes, suh, I's gwine up thaih to wo'k in a hotel. Mistah Ma'ston, he got me the job." The old man reined in his horse slowly, and deposited the liquid increase of a quid of tobacco before he said; "I hyeah tell it's powahful wicked up in dem big cities." "Oh, I reckon I ain't a-goin' to do nuffin wrong. I's goin' thaih to wo'k."
One sees them, their coats covered with the ceramic insignia of their placid servitude, decorations tossed to them by the careless hand of a master who is satisfied if they but sign his decrees, with the i's properly dotted, and the t's unexceptionably crossed.
"Lor' A'mighty, chile!" interrupted the old woman, "whar's you gwine? You mustn't say one word 'bout gwine out o' dis house dis night. I's got a bed all fixed for you, an' Pomp will take you up early in de mornin', an' show you de way fru de swamp." "Put away dat gun, young massa," chimed in Pomp; "dere's no danger."
To everything he said to her she made but one answer: "I's got my free papahs an' I's a-goin' Nawth." Finally her former master left her with the remark: "Well, I don't care where you go, but I'm sorry for Ben. He was a fool for working for you. You don't half deserve such a man." "I won' have him long," she flung after him, with a laugh.
This time it was the preacher's turn to darken angrily as he replied, "Look a-hyeah, Ike Middleton, all I got to say to you is dat whenevah a lady cook to please me lak dis lady do, an' whenevah I love one lak I love huh, an' she seems to love me back, I's a-gwine to pop de question to huh, fo'destination er no fo'destination, so dah!" The moment was pregnant with tragic possibilities.