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Who is she, you say? Why, don't you know? She's Joe Wallace's little Mary Elizabeth a nice, well-mannered child ez ever lived. Wife has had her over here to supper sev'al nights lately, an' Sonny he's took tea over to the Wallaces' once-t or twice-t, an' they say he shows mighty good table manners, passin' things polite, an' leavin' proper amounts on his plate.
'T ain't every new-married wife thet's willin' to sample her husband's tastes by his ma's cook-books. They seem to think they 're too dictatorial. But, of co'se, wife's receipts was better 'n most, an' Mary Elizabeth, she knows that. She ain't been married but a week, but she's served up sev'al self-made dishes a'ready all constructed accordin' to wife's schedule.
Trescott, but, owin' to ouah association in the additions we have platted, cyah'y me down also! You can see that with sev'al hundred thousand dolla's of deferred payments on what we have sold, most of which have been rediscounted in the East by the G. B. T., Mr. Trescott's condition becomes something of serious conce'n fo' you-all, as well as fo' me.
Peters, he up an' handed over a horse, an' so, quick as I got a chance, I des balanced my ekalub'ium an' went an' set down beside her an' ast her ef she wouldn't do me de honor to accep' of a driver, an' an' she say yas. "You know I'm a coachman by trade. "An' dat's huccome I come to say she got sev'al presents las' night." And he took another puff of his cigarette.
As they stood talking it over the two heroes had nothing to say, of course, and 'Pollo began rolling a cigarette an art he had learned from the man from New Orleans. Finally he remarked, "Yas, Miss Lily got sev'al mighty nice presents last night." At this Pierre turned, laughing, and said, "I s'pose you geeve 'er somet'ing too, eh?" "Pity you hadn't a-give her dat silk hankcher.
Fact is, he always did require me to look up to 'im, even when I looked down at 'im. Yas, sir; ez I said, Sonny has commenced keepin' company, outspoke, an' I can't say thet I'm opposed to it, though some would say he was a little young, maybe. I know when I was his age I had been in love sev'al times.
"Men ain' whut dey used to be," she said, "who'd 'a' t'ought o' de young man a runnin' off dat away jes' 'cause a ooman tol' him no. He orter had sense enough to know dat a ooman has sev'al kin's o' noes. Now ef dat 'ud 'a' been in my day he'd a jes' stayed away to let huh t'ink hit ovah an' den come back an' axed huh ag'in.
"I can read and write." "Oh, of course, of course," explained the other, hastily. "I don't mean that. Can you write for the press? Have you tried to write anything for other people to read?" Harrington's characteristic smile flashed forth. "I have submitted sev'al ahticles to Mistah Maxwell," he said, with some dignity, "but thus far I have not been fo'tunate enough "
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