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You won't be able to understand a word anybody says. You'll be a mighty lonesome old nigger over there." "I can talk wid my cat, can't I?" "Holy Moses! What, the cat, too?" Peter ran his hands through his hair, distractedly. "Whah you goes, I goes. En whah I goes, dat cat goes. Dat cat 's we-all's folks." "Oh, all right," said Peter, resignedly.
As they onload themse'fs, the pinfeather person waves his hand to where we-all's gathered to welcome 'em, an' says by way of introduction: "'Gents, yere's Abby; or as this Bible sport will say later in the cer'mony, Abigail Glegg.
You'd be entertaining your dearest enemies, serene in the consciousness that your house was a credit to your good management; and behold, Mary Magdalen in the drawing-room door, with her wig askew and her hands rolled in her apron: "Oh, Miss Sophy!" "Well?" say you, resignedly, with a feigned smile; "what is it, Mary Magdalen?" "Miss Sophy, you know we-all's sugah?" "Yes."
I sho' does ask yo' pardon fer lettin' mysef git so flustrated, but we-all's so powerful pleased fer ter see yo', an' has been a-wanting yo' so pintedly, that that that but, ma Lawd, I I I'se cla'r los' ma senses an', an Hi! look yonder at dat cusséd dawg an' ma fried chicken!" For once in her useless life Toinette had created a pleasing diversion.
The negroes, young and old, about the place, indeed, were wild with their enthusiasm for the mare. The day before the race a delegation of them, full of eagerness, met Neb as he came out of the stable. "Say, Unc Neb," said one of them, "we-all's made a pool." "Pool on de races?" "Uh-huh! An' we-all wants to know jes' what we ought to put ouah money on." They well knew what he would say.
I'm going to answer that letter right after breakfast, and I wish I could see my correspondent's face when she finds that her 'esquire' is one of her own sex. But I'll never dare let her guess I'm just a girl." "Jes' a gurl! Jes' a gurl," sputtered Jerome. "Kyant yo' just give her a hint dat yo's a yo'ng lady and we-all's mistiss?" "'Fraid not, Jerome.
Hemingway, for whom she had acquired a great affection. And she had one real grief: Satan had gone to the heaven of black cats, so she couldn't take him back to Carolina. She wouldn't replace the dear, funny, cuddly beastie with a French cat. French cats were amiable animals, very nice in their way, but they weren't, they couldn't be, "we-all's folks" as the Carolina cat had been.
There, it's comin'!" he said, more excitedly. The chief had paused, and, as the warriors came to him, they threw their ponies back on their haunches, and sat motionless. They turned, the ponies' heads toward the two. Alfred arose deliberately for a better look. "Yes, that's right," he said to himself, "that's old Lone Pine, sure thing. I reckon we-all's got to make a good fight!"
A little diplomacy can do no harm. And Jess, you need not mention seeing me with the young ladies. Your little mistress has begun my horse education. I haven't been very wise about them, I fear, but now I am going to make amends." "Yas'm. Amens does help we-all a powerful lot when we's wrastlin' wid we-all's sperrits. I hopes dey fotch yo' froo yo' doubtin's.
A-comin' home, the little weenty chap looks up at me suddent an' axes, 'Is they a mammy to we-all's house whar we goin' now? Lord! Lord!" Pap shook his head gently, as signifying the utter inadequacy of mere words. Little Sammy grew and thrived in the Overholt home.
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