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"So, early the nex' day, we goes off jus' as fast as trains would take us to his father's, an' we hadn't been there mor'n ten minutes, before Jone found out he had been summoned on a jury. "'When must you go? says I, when he come, lookin' a kind o' pale, to tell me this. "'Right off, says he. 'The court meets this mornin'. If I don't hurry up, I'll have some of 'em after me.
When little Miss Smith up on the third was sick las' winter did her nex' door neighbor lend a hand? She did not. She was just worried stiff for fear she'd catch somethin'. She gave me no peace till Miss Smith was out of the house an' into a hospital. Peace! I've forgot there was such a word. They won't stand for any kid in the house when the lease says no childern, no dogs an' no cats."
"Now, Bob, you sen' word to Uncle Dan'el, Tom Anderson, an' de rest ob dem, to come to McCullough's woods nex' Sunday night. I want to hab a sin-killin' an' debil-dribin' time. But, boy, you'd better git out er yere. Ole Miss'll be down on yer like a scratch cat."
I tol' 'im I's gwine stay wid Old Mis'. So he goes an' gits de sheriff an' takes me anyway. I runned away twict an' come back to Old Mis'. He whupped me de firs' time, but de nex' time I hid from him an' he couldn' catch me. He went back home an' 'lemme 'lone. Den I went wid my mammy to live wid Marse Tally Berry. He was one of Old Marster's sons.
"Fill up dere, boys," shouted the fiddler impatiently. "Bring out your gals for de nex' set." After a moment Paul King led out Joan Shelley from the shadowy corner where they had been sitting. They had already danced several sets together; Joan had not danced with anybody else that evening.
"Well, when Phil Packard died he did it like he'd done everything else, like he had lived, makin' a man think he was in a hurry to get a job over an' done with. Ridin' horseback one week an' the nex' week sendin' for me in there." He jerked his head toward a remote room of the big house. "An' he talked to me then about you." Packard waited for him to go on, offering no comment.
'Wait till ye hear fr'm th' Germans, he says. Th' nex' booletin said Swift was gainin', an' had tin thousand majority. 'Niver mind, says Maloney. 'Th' Germans 'll wipe that out, he says. Thin we heerd it was twinty thousand f'r Swift. 'Glory be, says Maloney, 'th' Germans is slow comin' in, he says.
Got me to dat boa'din' house what he was runner foh. Yass, sah. Ah had one hunnerd dollahs in mah pants pocket, yass, sah. Nex' mohnin' Ah woke up th'ee days lateh 'boa'd ship bound foh London. Ah ain' got no hunnerd dollah in mah pants pocket. Dat yeh Kipping he didn't leave me no pants pocket." The old black pulled open his shirt and revealed a jagged scar on his great shoulder. "Look a' dat!
Down at dis station de postmaster and station agent, bein' one an' de same, as you' am aware, was woke up by hearin' de noise an' come a runnin' to stop de robbery. Dey was an exchange of compliments in de way of pistol shots an' de robbers took deir leave an' as much else as dey could get away wif an' struck fo' de nex' town below." "Then the agent saw them go?"
Th' entire popylace attinded, with pork chops in their buttonholes to show their pathreetism. Th' nex' day, afther breakfastin' with Mayor Casey, he set out on his weary march over th' r-rough, flower-strewn paths f'r San Joon.
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