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She knew and understood she asked no questions: "It isn't that I must work in the mill," she sobbed to the old woman "I can do that anything to help out but but to think that Harry loves me so little as to give me up for for that." "Don't cry, chile," said Mammy soothingly "It ain't registered that you gwine wuck in that mill yit I ain't made my afferdavit yit."
The old woman clutched at the bed-post: "Me? not wuck anymo'? Not hunt 'sang an' spatterdock an' clean up an' wash an' scour an' cook an' " "No, why not, Tabitha? We've got a plenty to " He saw her clutch again at the bed-post and go down in a heap, saying: "Lemme die now, if I can't wuck no mo'." They lifted her on the bed and bathed her face.
"Good-evening. I'm glad you're bringing such a nice-looking girl to Mrs. March. What is her what is your name?" "Daaphne." "What!" "Yass'm. Mr. Mahch say whiles I wuck faw he's maw he like me to be naame Jaane, but my fo'-true name's Daaphne, yass'm." "Barb," said Fannie, "I've just thought of something we must attend to in the house at once!"
Soon's we git the heft o' the fall wuck did up, you'n' me will mek you one o' them fine quilted silk petticoats, lak Betsy's, to w'ar under yer red calaminco dress. Thah now!" and she kissed the girl "say yer prayers, an' go to sleep." Then she murmured as she left the room, "Pore gal! 'Tis hard on her; but I jes' can't spar' her this wintah.
Her religion was work: "Hit's nature's remedy," she would add "wuck and five draps o' turpentine if you're feelin' po'ly." She despised her husband's ways and thought little of his religion. Her tongue was frightful her temper worse. Her mission on earth aside from work work work was to see that too much peace and good will did not abide long in the same place.
The twins, Lucindy an' Lucy, air real peart, too, fur ther age, jes' turned intah ther ninth year. Tommy, he's only five, but his pap'll sign him, too; fur we want him brung 'long fast in his books befoh he's big 'nough to holp with the wuck." "That leaves only your youngest, I believe," said Dudley. "What is his name?" "His real name is Barton Warren Stone, aftah our preachah.
"Oh, never mind that," went on the Bishop "God don't say things out loud He jes' brings two an' two together an' expects you to add 'em an' make fo'. He gives you the soil an' the grain an' expects you to plant, assurin' you of rain an' sunshine to make the crop, if you'll only wuck.
"I don't understand as much about it myself as I'd like to," said Richling. "Me, I'm ve'y fon' of it," responded the Creole. "I was making seve'al i'onies ad those fwen' of mine juz now. We was 'unning a 'ace. An' thass anotheh thing I am fon' of. I would 'ather 'un a 'ace than to wuck faw a livin'. Ha! ha! ha! I should thing so! Anybody would, in fact.
Aun' Sheba still laughed to herself, and remarked, "Unc., s'pose you try Missy Ella's cure?" "Wot she know 'bout it?" growled Uncle Sheba, with an injured aspect. "Wot de use ob sawin' wood all day wen de town hot 'nuff now to roas' lobsters?" "Dat min's me, Unc. Why don' you took ter some sittin' wuck like fishin' in de harbor? You mought catch a lobster, or some oder fish."
When the blow was received, he made a noise that I never heard a cat make before or since; an awfully deep, condensed, screechy, explosive Wuck! as he bounced straight up in the air like a bucking bronco; and when he alighted after his spring, he rushed madly across the room and made frantic efforts to climb up the hard-finished plaster wall.
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