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Now we're gwine out ter de cotton compress, an' git a lot er colored men tergether, an' ef de w'ite folks 'sturbs me, I shouldn't be s'prise' ef dere'd be a mix-up; an' ef dere is, me an one w'ite man 'll stan' befo' de jedgment th'one er God dis day; an' it won't be me w'at'll be 'feared er de jedgment. Come along, boys!
Monroe, handing the clod back to the negro. Pop took it with a trembling hand and looked at it. Presently he asked: "W'at'll you give me foh dat air goal, Mistah Monroe." "Oh, a piece like that would be no use to me. It has to be washed and it wouldn't be worth while putting just one piece through the whole process of cleaning. Now.
"'No, eve'ybody's skeered er a wolf, en I doan want nobody ter be skeered er me. "'Shill I turn yer ter a mawkin'-bird? "'No, a hawk mout ketch me. I wanter be turnt inter sump'n w'at'll stay in one place. "'I kin turn yer ter a tree, sez Tenie. 'You won't hab no mouf ner years, but I kin turn yer back oncet in a w'ile, so yer kin git sump'n ter eat, en hear w'at's gwine on.
"Comin' home pretty soon, ain't ye," he asked, "to give us some hymn tunes Sunday evenings? W'at'll I git for ye? Must be hungry after so much singing." "I'm afraid I wasn't in voice to-night," said she rather wearily. "Not in voice!" protested Ethel with shy enthusiasm; "why, Nelly, I never before heard even you sing like that; it was-it was-oh, it was wonderful!"
"Good evenin', sir. W'at'll you 'ave to-night, sir?" "Pot o' the same, Mrs B," replied Ned. This was the invariable question and reply, for Ned was a man of regularity and method in everything that affected his personal comforts. Had he brought one-tenth of this regularity and method to bear on his business conduct, he would have been a better and a happier man.
For a whole year Frank had yearned for a smile or a kind word from the only woman in the world. Peter, his father, had rallied him somewhat upon his moodiness after Rena's departure. "Now 's de time, boy, fer you ter be lookin' roun' fer some nice gal er yo' own color, w'at'll 'preciate you, an' won't be 'shamed er you. You're wastin' time, boy, wastin' time, shootin' at a mark outer yo' range."
Here the old man used his hand ladle-fashion, by way of illustration. "He scoop 'im in, en dar he wuz. W'en Brer B'ar got his clampers on 'im good, he sot down en talk at 'im. "'Howdy, Brer Bull-frog, howdy! En how yo fambly? I hope dey er well, Brer Bull-frog, kaze dis day you got some bizness wid me w'at'll las' you a mighty long time. "Brer Bull-frog, he dunner w'at ter say.
"Aun' Peggy heared his tale, en den sez she: "'Dat cunjuh man is mo' d'n twice't ez ole ez I is, en he kin make monst'us powe'ful goopher. W'at you needs is a life-cha'm, en I'll make you one ter-morrer; it's de on'y thing w'at'll do you any good. You leabe me a couple er ha'rs fum yo' head, en fetch me a pig ter-morrer night fer ter roas', en w'en you come I'll hab de cha'm all ready fer you.
"'No, eve'ybody 's skeered er a wolf, en I doan want nobody ter be skeered er me. "'Shill I turn you ter a mawkin'-bird? "'No, a hawk mought ketch me. I wanter be turnt inter sump'n w'at'll stay in one place. "'I kin turn you ter a tree, sez Tenie. 'You won't hab no mouf ner years, but I kin turn you back oncet in a w'ile, so you kin git sump'n ter eat, en hear w'at 's gwine on.
W'at'll you gimme fer dat nigger baby? "'I doan want de baby, sez de yuther man. 'I ain' got no use fer de baby. "'I tell yer w'at I'll do, 'lows Kunnel Pen'leton, 'I'll th'ow dat pickaninny in fer good measure. "But de yuther man shuck his head. 'No, sezee, 'I's much erbleedzd, but I doan raise niggers; I raises hosses, en I doan wanter be both'rin' wid no nigger babies. Nemmine de baby.
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