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The man was silent for a moment. Then, when he spoke, his voice was lower and there was an indescribably sad note in it. "Call me 'Injun Pete', zat me. Everybody in de beeg Woods know Injun Pete. No odder name now. Once ze good Brodders at Aramac goin' make scholar of Pete, make heem priest, too, p'r'aps. He go teach among he's mudder's people.
Ralph bought the new one. I didn't give him your mudder's new preserves, nudder. I give him the old last year's stuff we had left over, and now you an' your mudder'll have plenty." Claude laughed. "Oh, I don't care if Ralph takes all the fruit on the place, Mahailey!" She shrank back a little, saying confusedly, "No, I know you don't, Mr. Claude. I know you don't."
She's nearly asleep." "So she is, give her to me, there, there, mudder's pressus, petty poppity, yes, she's queer!" "Who? Fleurette?" "You know very well I don't mean Fleurette! I mean that Pride of the West, that stranger within our gates, that thorn in the flesh, that awful Azalea!" "Meaning me?" and Azalea herself popped her head in at the nursery door.
"Then I suppose old Sam Orrick," he said kindly, "is your father's father." "Nawser," he answered slowly. And he added presently, "He wuz me mudder's father." After that, the silence lengthened. Varney looked off down the river. Tommy Orrick, whose father was named something else, clapped his hand suddenly to his lip, because his cigar just then scorched it unbearably.
Bill tossed the child up and down, and chuckled at her evident appreciation of his efforts for her amusement. "Be careful of my baby, if you please," and Patty eyed the performance dubiously. "Suppose you drop my child?" "I hardly think I shall, ma'am. And, incidentally, I suppose she is my child?" "No; a girl baby is always her mudder's own only just her very own mudder's own. Give her to me!
Slick, "he is a Christian is Jube, he is as good as a white Britisher: same flesh, only a leetle, jist a leetle darker; same blood, only not quite so old, ain't quite so much tarter on the bottle as a lord's has; oh him and a Britisher is all one brother oh by all means Him fader's hope him mudder's joy, Him darlin little nigger boy. You'd better cry over him, hadn't you.
I am living in the North, and doing a good business there. I want you to see joy according to all the days wherein you have seen sorrow. I do hope this young lady will find her ma and that, when found, she will prove to be your daughter!" "Yes, pore, dear chile! I specs her mudder's heart's mighty hungry fer her. I does hope she's my gran'chile."
"I use' ter rock yer to sleep wid you kickin' yer heels an' doublin' yer fists, an' callin' me ole fool, an' I singin': "'Lil chile Dory, Shaky's lil lam', Mudder's gone to heaven, Shaky leff behime To care for lil chile Dory, Shaky's lil lam'. Doan' you 'member it, honey, an' doan' you member me? I'm Shaky, I is."
"Oh, she's jes' dessame as she ever was, ain' she? She's her mudder's purty darlin' yit, ain' she? Lookut her, Jimmie! Come here, fer Gawd's sake, and lookut her." The loud, tremendous sneering of the mother brought the denizens of the Rum Alley tenement to their doors. Women came in the hallways. Children scurried to and fro. "What's up? Dat Johnson party on anudder tear?" "Naw!
"Well, if this yellow fuzz of a head and this pinky peach of a face is like anybody in the world except Patty Farnsworth, I'll give up! Why, she's the image of you, except when she makes these grotesque grimaces, like a Chinese Joss." "Stop it! You shan't call my baby names! She's a booful-poofle! She's a hunny-bunny! She's her mudder's pressus girly-wirly, so she wuz!"
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