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"Oh yes, 'mos' every little spell," replied the butcher, as he reached behind his weighing-scales and picked up a double-barrelled shot-gun, sawed off. "We-uns are expectin' of they-uns to-day." And he broke the barrels and took out the shells to examine them. "Do they come shooting?" I interposed. He shut the gun with a snap. "We split even, stranger."
And, oh, I say, me an' Bones are a-goin' off with him an' Rover after I 've had somethin' ter eat 't is mos' grub time, ain't it?" he added anxiously. Ann sighed in a discouraged way. "Yes, I s'pose 't is. I left some beans a-bakin', and dinner'll be ready pretty quick.
It was not difficult to find. Soon a splendid stag was shot by Leo and a musk-ox by Benjy. Not long after this, the bag-bearers returned. "You shoots mos' awful well, Massas," said Butterface; "but it's my 'pinion dat you bof better go home, for Captain Vane he go mad!" "What d'you mean, Butterface?" asked Leo.
"I say, Joe," said one, "blamed ef it 'taint too bad; you and me spendin' our time this way! The ole woman's mos' broke 'r heart over me t'day. Sh' said I ought be the s'port 'f her ole dage, 'stid 'f boozin' roun' thish yer way. 'S so! Tell you, Joe, 's so! Blam'd 'f 'taint. Hey? W'at y' say? Hey?" "Of course 'tis, Ben," growled the other; "we all know that.
This 'ere lady 's a-goin' ter take us ter her shebang ter stay mos' two weeks. Gee-whiz! Bones, ain't this great!" And with one bound he was off the platform and turning a series of somersaults on the soft grass followed by the skinny, mangy dog which was barking itself nearly wild with joy.
Well Al little Al was the cutest thing you ever seen and he grabbed me by the good hand and rushed me in to where the little stranger was laying and she was asleep but we broke the rules for once and all and all it was some party and she is some little gal Al and pretty as a picture and when you can say that for a 3 mos. old its going some as the most of them looks like a French breakfast.
Why didn't you tell me?" "Ju got yoost so manny eyes lak' me!" retorted the woman. "Ju neffer ask me vat Ay tank 'bout MacNair and 'bout Lapierre. And Ay neffer tal ju das 'cause Ay tank it besser ju fin' out yourself. Ay know ju got to fin' das out sometam'. Den ju believe it. Ju know lot 'bout vat stands in de books, but das mos' lak' MacNair say: 'bout lot t'ing, you damn fool!" Chloe gasped.
Leaning over his gnarled palms, the old man shook his head in sober reverie. "Dar ain' nuttin' like dem bitters in dese yer days," he reflected sadly, "'caze de smell er dem use ter mos' knock you flat 'fo' you done taste 'em, en all de way ter de belly dey use ter keep a-wukin' fur dey livin'. Lawd! Lawd!
"No'm, dat ain't hardly de beginnin'. Mist' lanrevel he a Ab'litionist." "Well? Won't you tell me?" "Honey, folks roun' heah mos' on 'em like Mist' Vanrevel so well dey ain't hole it up ag'in' him but, Missy, ef dey one thing topper God's worl' yo' pa do desp'itly and contestably despise, hate, cuss, an' outrageously 'bominate wuss'n' a yaller August spiduh it are a Ab'litionist!
"Ee be mos' like a child to me and the mother, an' mos' as sensible as a Christian, ee be," the old man had said; and I could hardly credit my eyes when I saw the tall bent figure side by side with the black pig, coming along my road on such a day. I hailed the old man, and both turned aside; but he gazed at me without remembrance. I spoke of the pig and its history. He nodded wearily.
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