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A tawdry, ill-kempt female figure was shuffling slowly by the stately Vaughn mansion, as Clemence tripped down the steps, and two envious black eyes noted the happy smile upon her face. "How d'ye do, Miss Graystone," said a harsh voice. "Ain't too big to speak to a body, are you, cause you happen to be among 'ristocrats?" Clemence turned and immediately recognized Mrs.
Let dem kum, kum an' git Schults when dey chuse. Don't let dem t'ink fur er moment I no prepare fer dem. Dem Ghermans who 'lows dem down bhroke ristocrats persuade dem gintz deir kullud frients who thrade mit dem an' keeps dem from starvin' when dese rich bocra thry ter dhrive dem frum des country deserbe de cuss ov Almighty Got!
"Honest enough, sho'ly, but they ain't in yo' all's set. Now I know quality folks, an' when I sot eyes on yo' all, I like fo' to throwed a fit. Huh! 'Ristocrats ain' no business hoppin' along in a boat like this. I go fo' to know 'ristocrats when I sees 'em. I was a pantry man in a Suezer." "But this isn't any tea-party to which the crew are invited." "Huh! Don' yo' go fo' to fool yo' self."
Good day, Mr. Mare!" He followed and addressed his men from the steps of the City Hall. "Gentermen, we pu' down nigger rule on the tenth, the nex' move mus' be ter let ther 'ristocrats know thet the one gullus boys air indowed by God wi' ther same rites as they air. We po' uns'll have er show, er break up the whole thing. Go home, boys, and be ready to rally when ther order's giv'!" Rev.
"I have seen you about yer since you was a baby, Vesty, an' Ellenora says you're better game an' heart than these 'ristocrats, fur who I never keered! That's why I take the liberty of calling you Vesty. Now, let me tell you about your niggers. If they was a-gwyn to freedom in a white man's keer, I wouldn't stop 'em to be cap'n of a man-of-war.
"One of the old Frenches," I reckon, said a bystander, "come back on a visit." "Yes," said another, "old 'ristocrats roun' here. Well, they ought to take keer of their old niggers. They got all the good out of 'em when they were young. But they're not runnin' things now."
"Teck Pervis yo may mark my words, but jes es soon es them broken down ristocrats git er hol of ther gov'mint, jes es soon es yo po fools help them, then yer kin go." Teck Pervis glared at his wife like a fierce beast at bay. He was Teck Pervis of old, the defiant, blood-thirsty rebel in the rifle pit glaring over the breastworks at the enemy.
Dan was speaking; he was talking of the starving miners in "Colorady," and pointed to the office building, crying, "We'll show them bloated 'ristocrats how nice it feels to starve!" while a din of voices cried, "Hear! hear!" Pushing their way to the flat-car, his muscular escorts hauled Job up and shouted: "The parson, lads Mr. Job. He's goin' to talk wid yez!"
As a matter of fact the Whipper-in had not thought of it, but it was easy for him to say what he thought the other wished him to say. "Wal, yes," he replied; "that's jes' what I had been thinkin' of. They've got to come in 'ristocrats or no 'ristocrats! When it comes to a question of bread and meat, pedigree must go to the cellar."
Thar's the Bloo Grass deestrict, the Pennyr'yal deestrict, an' the Purchase. The Bloo Grass folks is the 'ristocrats, while them low-flung trash from the Purchase is a heap plebeian. The Pennyr'yal outfit is kind o' hesitatin' 'round between a balk an' a break-down in between the other two, an' is part 'ristocratic that a-way an' part mud.
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