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Tell me not it cannot be; I tell you this is him!" A low murmur from the two replied. The waiter appeared to be particularly affected. "This is him," said Pumblechook, "as I have rode in my shay-cart. This is him as I have seen brought up by hand. This is him untoe the sister of which I was uncle by marriage, as her name was Georgiana M'ria from her own mother, let him deny it if he can!"
Den Cun'l Chahmb'lin he sort o' got in debt, an' sell some o' he niggers, an' dat's de way de fuss begun. Dat's whar de lawsuit cum from. Ole marster he didn' like nobody to sell niggers, an' knowin' dat Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz sellin' o' his, he writ an' offered to buy his M'ria an' all her chil'en, 'cause she hed married our Zeek'yel.
Dey wuz knocked out to ole marster dough, an' den dey hed a big lawsuit, an' ole marster wuz agwine to co't, off an' on, fur some years, till at lars' de co't decided dat M'ria belonged to ole marster. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin den wuz so mad he sued ole marster for a little strip o' lan' down dyah on de line fence, whar he said belonged to 'im. Ev'ybody knowed hit belonged to ole marster.
They were sure to be followed by a change of atmosphere. This time as the fierce rheumatic pain came back he stormed at Walker, and scolded him for everything he did and everything he left undone. When Maria came up to put Lloyd to bed, Fritz was tearing around the room barking at his shadow. "Put that dog out, M'ria!" roared the Colonel, almost crazy with its antics.
"But say, M'ria, you be in an awful box," said she. "You can't never marry nobody else without you get locked up, you know." "I don't want to," Maria said, shortly. "Mebbe you will." "I never shall." "Well, if you do, you had better write to this paper, then you can find out just what to do. It won't tell you to do nothin' wrong, and it's awful sensible. Say, M'ria." "Well, what?"
He stood within the doorway, and was regarding her curiously. She did not plead or protest; only, as their eyes met, a flush rose to her cheek, and he guessed rightly that the touch of shame was for her mother, not for herself. The flush deepened as old Josselin turned and said apologetically, "You mustn't mind M'ria. She's weak-minded.
I go on to Port Nassau; and thence in a few days to a lodging up in the back country." "Such a mare as she's ridin' too!" put in the old man. "I wouldn' put up at Port Nassau, if I was you," said her mother pausing as she made ready to lift the pot-handle. "They won't know what you've told us, and they'll cast up the old shame on you." "M'ria ha'n't talked so sensible for days," said the old man.
He wondered how he could ever have thought her pretty. He looked at Gladys Mann, and felt murderous. He had a high temper. As the train approached, he whispered in her ear, "Damn you, Gladys Mann, it's a pretty pickle you have got us into." Gladys was used to being sworn at. She was not in the least intimidated. "Do you s'pose I was goin' to have M'ria talked about?" she said.
The girl's lip suddenly curled with scorn. "Yer nephew would be obligated ter make a ch'ice fur marryin' 'mongst these hyar mounting gals Par-mely Lepstone, or Belindy M'ria Matthews, or one o' the Windrow gals. Waal, sir, I'd ruther be yer niece even ef Em'ry Keenan air like a puppy underfoot, that ye can't gin away, an' won't git lost, an' ye ain't got the heart ter kill."
I hate him enough to wish he was dead. I'll never live with him; and if you tell, Gladys Mann, I'll tell you what I'll do." "What?" asked Gladys, in a horrified whisper. "I'll go and drown myself in Fisher's Pond, that's what I'll do." "I never will tell, honest, M'ria," said Gladys. "You'd better not." "Hope to die, if I do."
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