United States or Botswana ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Ain't Miss P'tricia done 'tire herself in one for the 'casion!" Sarah exclaimed; "and ain't she done tell all the others over that 'phone to do the very same I ain't never held with thet there 'phone, nohow 'tain't nothin' better'n devilment, anyhow. My sakes, such doings, Marse Doctor! You and Miss Julia just come cast your glance over this supper table!" They followed her into the dining-room.
"Miss Julia, she done send some message 'bout this 'ere cake, Miss P'tricia; but, law o' mercy, I'se clean forgot the most 'portant word. Hit were something 'bout you-uns having had a fat-fat-" "Fatiguing day?" Patricia suggested, taking little anticipatory pickings at the corners of the shortcake. Sarah nodded her turbaned head.
"I think she almost suspected something, Custard; I reckon she's the suspiciony kind Susy Vail looks the kind of girl to have a suspiciony mother. But the rest didn't." Patricia danced the interested Custard down the hall. As she reappeared on the back piazza, Sarah asked sternly: "What you been up to now, Miss P'tricia? You've been doing a heap of talking at dat ere 'phone."
From half-way up the path, came Sarah's voice: "Oh, Miss P'tricia! Miss P'tricia!" "She'll go back presently, if she doesn't hear us," Patricia whispered with elaborate caution; "then we must get to the house as quickly and as quietly as possible and secure the re the booty. Oh, go away!" she added sternly, as Custard came sniffing about them.
And the very first time you run off with any of her things you're going to get your ears boxed." Custard wagged tentatively; boxing his ears appeared to him to belong to Miss Kirby's special department. "Miss P'tricia!" Sarah stood in the doorway, indignation in the very points of her knotted turban "Miss P'tricia, ain't yo' never be'n tole not to sit on beds?
"You ain't 'xplained yet how you come to be in such a disrepec'ble condition, Miss P'tricia. If the rag man was to see you, he'd just up and toss you into his cart he shore would." "Have I got a clean gingham apron, Sarah?" Patricia was a past-mistress in the art of ignoring what she considered inconvenient, or personal, remarks.
What you think he's goin' say when Miss Julia tells him?" Patricia was absorbed in eating bread and milk. "It must be dreadful to be really starved, Sarah," she observed. "Where you get your dinner, Miss P'tricia?" "I didn't have any," Patricia answered. "My sakes!" Further speech failed Sarah. She turned away. Patricia's next visitor was old Cæsar.
"An' mercy knows what Miss Julia done say when she find yo' here," she muttered, tucking them in snugly. Archibald sat up in bed. "I want Custard!" "Yo' go 'long ter sleep, young sir," Sarah expostulated. "What yo' think Marse Santa Clause goin' say ter such goin's-on?" "I want Custard!" "Let him have him, Sarah!" Patricia exclaimed. "Miss P'tricia! 'Low that onery dog on yo' aunt's bed!"
It won't do to turn Daddy out of his, and I must have communicating ones." "But your aunt " Nell began again. "Oh, Aunt Julia'll understand." Patricia was kneeling before the deep fireplace in her aunt's room, piling it generously with wood from the box in the corner. "Miss P'tricia, what yo' up ter?" Sarah demanded, unexpectedly, from the doorway.
"Your Christmas isn't over yet, Pat; it won't be all smooth running." "You can't scare me. Nell, we'll hang up their stockings for them. They must have their Christmas." "What yo' goin' do fo' night things fo' dem, Miss P'tricia?" Sarah asked, suddenly; "'pears like ain't none o' 'em come much laden down wid luggage." "N-no," Patricia answered; "probably their things weren't very get-atable.
Word Of The Day