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"You can get off directly dishes are done seven o'clock every evening, I'm sure." "I know," responded Zenie, still doubting. "But Zeke, he gone at night. Mos' eve' night. He home in de day, mos' de day." It ended by Mary Louise's offering and Zenie's accepting ten dollars a week, and with a promise of starting in on the following Monday.
"He worshipped his maw, an' she jest 'dored down on him," she said; "but 'tain't only he want look like her, he doan' want look like his paw. Ev'one know what Cun'l de Courcy was an' dat chile jest 'spise him. He was allus a mons'ous proud chile, and when de Cun'l broke loose an' went on one o' his t'ars, it mos' 'stroyed dat boy wid de disgracefulness.
"She'd make make two of Dinah," went on her brother. "She would not," contradicted Flossie quickly. "'Cause Dinah's black, and this lady is white." "That's so," admitted Freddie, with smile. "I didn't think of that." A sway of the train nearly made Flossie fall, and she caught quickly at her brother. "Look out!" he cried. "You 'mos knocked the cup down." "I didn't mean to," spoke Flossie.
Dat worry me some, 'cause we need each otha. Wit' his haid an' my arms we mek one pretty good man. Dat lil Irishman was a fightin' fool. Weighed only 90 pounds, but strong an' wiry. Co'se he git licked mos' do time, but he allus ready fer anotha fight. "Didn't lak for folks to call him Irish. 'He fodder was Irish and he mudder American, he say; 'I be'n born aboard a Dutch brig in French waters.
And didn't all t'ree of us pallaber togeder till we mos' wore out our tongues? Didn't do no good, dough! 'Cause you see, de people here is sich barbariums dat dey cannot unnerstan' one word o' good Christian talk." "And if they had understood you, Katie, as some of them probably did, it would not have served you; your unsupported words would have never been taken.
No; some er de niggers foun' her ketched on a snag along heah in de ben', en dey hid her in a crick 'mongst de willows, en dey wuz so much jawin' 'bout which un 'um she b'long to de mos' dat I come to heah 'bout it pooty soon, so I ups en settles de trouble by tellin' 'um she don't b'long to none uv um, but to you en me; en I ast 'm if dey gwyne to grab a young white genlman's propaty, en git a hid'n for it?
Dat's what you call one bite of of dat leel bees, he's dere, you put your finger dere, he's not dere! what you call him? 'Flea! I suggested. 'Oui! cried Baptiste. 'Dat's one bite of flea. 'I was thankful I was under the barrels, I replied, smiling. 'Oui! Dat's mak' me ver mad. I jump an' swear mos' awful bad. Dat's pardon me, M'sieu Craig, heh? But Craig only smiled at him rather sadly.
Then he said, as if it were a result of deep cogitation, "Ye'll hev ter kem over ter the shop, dad, wunst in a while, ter advise 'bout what's doin'. 'Pears ter me like mos' folks would 'low ez a boy no older 'n me couldn't do reg'lar blacksmithin' 'thout some sperienced body along fur sense an' showin'." The man visibly plucked up a little. Was he, indeed, so useless?
"He air the same feller who hev been spyin' ye all the time this war's been goin' on; hit's that dried-faced, snaky Eli Crump, who ye knocked down 'n' choked up in Hazlan one day fer sayin' something ag'in Isom." "I knowed it I knowed it oh, ef I could git my fingers roun' his throat once more jes once more I'd be 'mos' ready to die."
There was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to Winnie without having a right to touch her hand! Who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances? "Mos' awrful hot!" remarked Moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "You hot!" said Nigel in surprise.
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