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As foh me, I'm ti'ed; life ain't wuth the effo't." Maxwell regarded him. "You don't look like a quitter," he said, thoughtfully. The boy's face blazed again, but he kept his temper. "To quit means to give somethin' up," he said, doggedly. "I ain't givin' anythin' up. I 'ain't got anythin' to give up.
He'd 'a liked youa kitchen, Mrs. Claxon. He always was such a home-body, and he did get so ti'ed of hotels.
Is you gwine ter sleep all de mawnin'? I 's ti'ed er dis yer runnin' 'roun' all night an' den sleepin' all day. You won't git dat tater patch hoed ovuh ter-day 'less'n you git up f'm dere an' git at it." Uncle Wellington rolled over, yawned cavernously, stretched himself, and with a muttered protest got out of bed and put on his clothes.
She lifted her eyes with the evident determination to meet his own squarely, but it was too much; they fell as before; yet she went on speaking: "An' w'en someboddie git'n' ti'ed livin' wid 'imsev an' big'n' to fill ole, an' wan' someboddie to teg de care of 'im an' wan' me to gid marri'd wid 'im I thing 'e's in love to me." Her fingers kept up a little shuffling with the fan. "I thing I'm crezzy.
The danger's over barring complications." Once more his senses drifted, slept. In the morning Po Lun brought a cup of broth and fed him with a spoon. "Long time you been plenty sick," the Chinaman replied to his interrogation. "Where's Alice?" "She go 'sleep 'bout daylight.... She plenty ti'ed. Ebely night she sit up while you talk clazy talk." "You mean I've been delirious, Po Lun?"
He'd 'a liked youa kitchen, Mrs. Claxon. He always was such a home-body, and he did get so ti'ed of hotels.
Mars Jim let on lack he did n' b'lieve de tale de two niggers tol'; he sez Primus had runned erway, en stay' 'tel he got ti'ed er de swamps, en den come back on him ter be fed.
"Why, what's the mattah, honey?" she exclaimed. "Did Emma Louise make you mad? Or is you cryin' 'cause you're so ti'ed? Come! Ole Becky'll tote her baby the rest of the way." She picked the light form up in her arms, and, pressing the troubled little face against her shoulder, resumed her walk and her song. "It's a world of trouble we're travellin' through, Fa'well, my dyin' friends."
Hit wuz so fur down ter Robeson dat he didn' hab no chance er comin' back ter see her tel de time wuz up; he wouldn' a' mine comin' ten er fifteen mile at night ter see Tenie, but Mars Marrabo's uncle's plantation wuz mo' d'n forty mile off. Sandy wuz mighty sad en cas' down atter w'at Mars Marrabo tole 'im, en he says ter Tenie, sezee: "'I'm gittin monstus ti'ed er dish yer gwine roun' so much.
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