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Mahooley seized her wrist. "My God, if you think you're going to play fast and loose " Bela smiled scornfully, unafraid, provoking. "W'at you t'ink?" she said. "I not same lak those girls down by your place. They come w'en you whistle. I come when I ready. Maybe I never come." There was a battle between their eyes. "You need a master!" cried Mahooley. Her eyes glowed with as strong a fire as his.
'Pears lak you ain't nevah happy 'less you've got yer nose in some book. Heah, Cissy, them britches' laigs is ready to seam up. Mek yer stitches good an' tight, else you'll haf to rip it all out an' do it ovah. Snuff the candle, fust, an' hand me thet hank o' thread an' the shears, befoh you set down."
"I'm goin' down to McCarthy's stable and see if I kin git some horses to exercise." A sad look came into Eliza's eyes as she said: "You'd bettah not go, Patsy; dem hosses'll kill you yit, des lak dey did yo' pappy." But the boy, used to doing pretty much as he pleased, was obdurate, and even while she was talking, put on his ragged jacket and left the room.
Wit a staht lak dat, hit ain't no wonder I growed up all backbone an' muscle." While there have been many instances of atrocious cruelty to slaves, Uncle Dave believes that other cases have been unduly magnified. He says that he was never whipped by his master, but remembers numerous chastisements at the hands of Miss Jessie, his young owner, daughter of Pierre Pinckney.
I have told you," said Simon. "You will know him when you see! All tam show off lak a cock-grouse in mating-time. He is not Kakisa. He is a Cree who went with them long tam ago. Some say his father was a black man." "So!" said Ambrose. "And they stand for that?" Simon shrugged. "The Kakisas a funny people. Not mix with the whites, not mix with other Indians lak Crees. They keep old ways.
He watchin' lak a ole fox ter ke'p you en Zany yere. Ef you puts out, he riz de kentry en put de houn's arter you. We des got ter skeer 'im off fust. I'm studyin' how ter git dat dawg out'n de way. Des go on quiet few mo' days en ef you year quar noises up on de hill whar de sogers bur'ed you know hit me. Look skeered lak de oders but doan be fear'd en keep mum."
I thought I'd die. All de time his mean little gal was a-gloatin' in my misery. I yelled an' prayed to de Lawd 'til he quit. "Den he say to me, 'From now on you works in de fiel'. I aint gwine a-have no vicious boy lak you 'roun de lady folks. I was too little for fiel' work, but de nex' mornin' I went to choppin' cotton. After dat I made a reg'lar fiel' han'. When I growed up I was a ploughman.
Mebe so my man com' wit' de dog-team. Den I'm hear 'bout de school de white woman build on de Yellow Knife. Always I'm hear 'bout de white women, but I'm never seen none only de white men. My man, he mos' white. "Den I'm say, mebe so my man lak' de white women more dan de Injun.
And even Grandpere Colomes, as he brewed on the Cherokee-rose-covered gallery, a fiery punch for the heroes, was heard to admit that "some time dose Americain can mos' be lak one Frenchman." And we danced at the betrothal supper the next week. It was cold that day. The great sharp north-wind swept out Elysian Fields Street in blasts that made men shiver, and bent everything in their track.
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