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You'se bofe too deep fer me. How you git into polytics I doan see nohow." "There, Aun' Sheba, don't you mind Ella's nonsense. We're no more into politics than you are." "You'se inter sump'in den." "Yes," said Ella, "we're still carrying on the war." "Please don't talk so, Ella." "Oh, Mara! I must have my nonsense.
You'se dun me good, honey lam's, an' de Lawd bress you bofe. I'se tote de basket a heap pearter fer dis yere talk. I feels a monst'us sight betteh. Wish I could see you, honey, lookin' as plump as Missy Ella. Dat do me mos' as much good as feelin' 'ligious." Mara worried Mrs. Hunter over her pretence of making a dinner, and then gladly sought the solitude of her own room.
His heart misgave him as he heard his wife bound up and bolt the door after him, but he was a philosopher who knew the value of time in remedying many of the ills of life. It must be admitted that he could not get into the spirit of the meeting, and Brother Simpkins remarked rather severely at its close, "Mister Buggone, I'se feared you'se zeal am languishin'."
Old Jenny came in and put the supper on the table, and stood presiding over the urn and tea-pot while Cloudy ate his supper. Old Jenny's tongue ran as if she felt obliged to make up in conversation for the absence of the rest of the family. "Lord knows, I'se glad 'nough you'se comed back," she said; "dis yer place is bad 'nough.
"I'se not," retorted her husband, assuming much solemnity, "I'se a 'umble an' 'flicted sarbent ob de Lawd, an' it's my duty to 'monstrate wid you. I know what's on you' min'. You'se gwine ter do fer dem white folks when you got all you kin do now." "Mister Buggone, don' you call Miss Mara white folks no mo'." "Well, ain't she white folks?
He go in whar de tables wuz, an' fix dese heah candles on de cake, jest lak he seen 'em on li'l Miss Ann's. 'How-cum dey's bigger? de dude nigger axed. 'You'se bigger, ain' you? Zack say, an' he walk 'way. Den ole Zack come out 'gin, bowin' hisse'f an' scrapin' his foots to de gals lak he's done lost what li'l sense he ever had.
But all de same you'se Dinah's baby boy," and kind-hearted Dinah rubbed Freddie's feet well, so he would not take cold; then, with fresh clothing, she made him just as comfortable and happy as he had been when he had started out shell hunting. "Harry is coming to-day," Bert told Freddie, on the morning following the shell hunt, "and maybe Aunt Sarah will come with him.
'You'se hit de nail squar on de head. Own up, now, moder, dat you'se neber been preached at mo' convincin'. Hi! wot a book dat Bible am! It's got a word in season fer ebry 'casion."
"Some folks gits dere eye-tooths en doan git nuthin' wid 'em," Zany remarked nonchalantly. "I'se 'mit dough dat you comin' on, Chunk. W'en you gits growed up you'se be right smart." "I doan min' de foolishness ob yo' talk, Zany," Chunk replied coolly, between his huge mouthfuls. "Dat's in you, en you kyant he'p hit any mo'n a crow cawin'. I'se allus mek 'lowance fer dat.
"Now, honey, you jes' took de words out'n my mouth 'bout you. You'se lookin' po'ly, an' I'se dreffle 'feared you'se gwine ter get beat ont. You want help mo'n me, an' I'se had it on my min' ter talk wid you." "Oh, Aun' Sheba, I'm very well," protested Mara, yet glad to think that her paleness and languor were ascribed to fatigue.
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