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"Waal," put in Rufe, hastening to explain this discrepancy in the spectre, "I hearn you-uns a-sayin' that mornin', fore ye set out from the tanyard, ez she war mighty nigh dead an' would be gone 'fore night. An' ez he hed tole me he'd skeer the wits out'n me, I 'lowed ez I could show him ez his wits warn't ez tough ez mine.
Marten is plentiful." "Good fur here, too. Not much marten; plenty link." "Your father is well?" asked Ambrose in turn. "My fat'er is well," said Tole. "My four brot'ers well, too." "I am glad," said Ambrose. More polite conversation was exchanged while Ambrose waited for his guest to declare the object of his visit. It came at last. "Often I talk wit' my fat'er," said Tole.
"Eh, Men, dad was h-only de poli-i-idenez. Wad 'e said?" "E said I din knowed 'im 'tall." "An' you," exclaimed Aurora, "it is nod pozzyble dad you " "I tole 'im I know 'im bette'n 'e know annyt'in' 'boud id!" The speaker dropped her face into her mother's lap. "Ha, ha!" laughed Aurora, "an' wad of dad? I would say dad, me, fo' time' a day.
But the gallant steed did not move or flinch; she tried again, and he seemed rather pleased than otherwise. At this moment she heard a cry from the cottage, and turning, beheld her adversary approaching round the corner of the building. 'I thought I should tole out the mouse by that trick! cried Festus exultingly.
"That's him, that's Tim, the fightin' gen'leman I tole yer 'bout," said Becky, with a gay little smile at the remembrance of her joke and how she "played it on 'em," and at the look of astonishment now on Lizzie's face. And still with the gay little smile, but fainter voice, "Yer'll tell 'em, Lizzie, the girls in the store, how I played it on 'em; and when I git back I'll "
Co'se he smell de grapes en see de vimes, an atter dahk de fus' thing he done wuz ter slip off ter de grapevimes 'dout sayin' nuffin ter nobody. Nex' mawnin' he tole some er de niggers 'bout de fine bait er scuppernon' he et de night befo'. "Wen dey tole 'im 'bout de goopher on de grapevimes, he 'uz dat tarrified dat he turn pale, en look des like he gwine ter die right in his tracks.
"Hit wa'n't long atter dat befo' Mars Archie McIntyre, ober on de Wimbleton road, 'mence' ter complain 'bout somebody stealin' chickens fum his hen-'ouse. De chickens kep' on gwine, en at las' Mars Archie tole de ban's on his plantation dat he gwine ter shoot de fus' man he ketch in his hen-'ouse.
Mandy Ann lived a spell wid de quality, an' got some o' dar ways, an' I got some in Virginny, an' we tole 'em to her, an' she done tried till towards de las' she gin it up. ''Taint no use, she said to me. 'I'm 'scouraged. I can never be a lady. Ef he comes after I'm dead, tell him I tried an' couldn't. She meant the chile's fader, her husband. Ain't you her husband?"
He read it, an' tole me to have de hosses ready at twenty minits to twelve at de corner of de garden. An' jes' befo' dat he come out ez ef he wuz gwine to bed, but instid he come, an' we all struck out to'ds Cun'l Chahmb'lin's.
"Ye won't, Jeff Hackberry," she sneered. "Jealous, air ye? You've got no bizniss o' bein'. Done tole ye 'long ago I'd never marry yo', so long as I could find a man who has two good eyes and a 'spectable character. I've done found him. Here he is, and 'Squire Corson 'll splice us to-night."
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