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"Ef de day come w'en I kin stan' up en say fer sho, 'I own mysef, en God ony my Mars'r, I kin starbe ef dat He will. En dat' minds me, young mistis. IS we free? Perkins growlin' roun' agin dis mawnin', en say we he'p 'bout de horspital ter-day, but we all go ter wuk ter-morrer. I 'lowed he orter talk ter us 'bout wages en he des larf en cuss me. Wat's gwine ter be de end?
Dat orful human natur gwine to come in now an' I belebe dat folks who know you an' all 'bout you'se family will help you, 'stid ob talkin' agin you. You see. You knows I doan' mean no disrespec' to ole Missus, but she'd jes sit down an' starbe, tinkin' ob de good dinners she orter hab, an' did hab in de ole times. All you'se folks in hebin is a smilin' on you, honey.
Aun' Sheba had heard and recognized his voice, and she went through the throng like a puffing tug through driftwood. "Mister Buggone," she said, with the sternness of fate, "ef yer doan stop yer noise you'se 'lowance stop heah and now. Yer'll hab ter wuck shuah or starbe, fer if yer doan come wid me now yer neber come agin." Uncle Sheba went away with her, meek as a lamb.
Dey wouldn't lebe a brick heah ef dey could take dem off. He'n his tribe got away wid 'bout all ole Missus' and young Missus' prop'ty in my 'pinion. Anyhow I feels it in my bones dey's poah, an' I mus' try an' fin' out. Dey's so proud dey'd starbe fore dey'd let on." "'Spose you does fin' out, what kin you do? You gwine ter buy back de big house fer dem?"
"So Mars Johnson went on en tol' 'im how he had ter starbe de noo nigger 'fo' he could make 'im take holt er a hoe. "'Dat wuz de beatinis' notion fer a nigger, sez Mars Jeems, 'puttin' on airs, des lack he wuz a w'ite man! En I reckon you did n' do nuffin ter 'im? "'Oh, no, suh, sez de oberseah, grinnin' lack a chessy-cat, 'I did n' do nuffin but take de hide off'n 'im.
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