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"Is this true, Copestake!" cried the doctor angrily. "Well, yes, sir; I s'pose it is," said the gardener. "Me and Peter see him a-cuttin' his capers atop o' that wall, and when we told him to come down, he wouldn't, and fell through our vinery." "Who was going to come down when you was hitting at him with that big stick?" said Dexter indignantly.
Then there wuz some native Arabs with 'em who wuz a-eatin' scorpions, and a-luggin' round snakes, and a-cuttin' and piercin' themselves with wicked-lookin' weepons, and eatin' glass; I wuz glad enough to git out of there. I hate daggers, and abominate snakes, and always did.
I ain't no bloomin' judge an' jury t' set on your case, anyway. You'll get a square trial same as everybody gets. But you ain't a-helpin' yourself a-cuttin' of didoes like this." "I haven't time to go into details," Mac told him, "and I don't suppose you'd believe me if I did.
"Look at that two-year-old, now," he would say, waving a cinnamon-brown hand toward the salient point of the picture. "Why, dang my hide, the critter's alive. I can jest hear him, 'lumpety-lump, a-cuttin' away from the herd, pretendin' he's skeered. He's a mean scamp, that there steer. Look at his eyes a-wallin' and his tail a-wavin'. He's true and nat'ral to life.
And like as not if she hadn't got it she would have throwed herself and kicked. I shouldn't wonder a mite if she had. But she jest clawed right in, and tore round and acted, and jawed, and coaxed, and kinder cried, and carried the day, jest as spilte children will, more'n half the time. Not but what New York wuz a-cuttin' up and a-actin' jest as bad, accordin' to its age.
"What's the matter, Uncle Julius?" inquired my wife, who is of a very sympathetic turn of mind. "Does the noise affect your nerves?" "No, Mis' Annie," replied the old man, with emotion, "I ain' narvous; but dat saw, a-cuttin' en grindin' thoo dat stick er timber, en moanin', en groanin, en sweekin', kyars my 'memb'ance back ter ole times, en 'min's me er po' Sandy."
You're obstructing the traffic." "What traffic?" "Along the road." "But where is it going? Where does it come from? What does it mean? They're all round me. What do they want? What are they doin'? I want to understand. I'm tired of cuttin' chalk and bein' all alone. What are they doin' for me while I'm a-cuttin' chalk? I may just as well understand here and now as anywhere." "Sorry.
"What's the matter, Uncle Julius?" inquired my wife, who is of a very sympathetic turn of mind. "Does the noise affect your nerves?" "No, Miss Annie," replied the old man, with emotion, "I ain' narvous; but dat saw, a-cuttin' en grindin' thoo dat stick er timber, en moanin', en groanin', en sweekin', kyars my 'memb'ance back ter ole times, en 'min's me er po' Sandy."
At the height of it, a door across the sitting-room, which commanded a strip of the bedroom beyond, opened cautiously and Zeke Crandall's eye glued itself to the aperture, an eye astonished beyond belief. "If that there Red ain't a-cuttin' up jest exactly as he used to when he was a boy and his pa and ma sick a-bed! If 'twas anybody but Red I'd say he was crazy."
He slipped his fingers alongside her throat to test her temperature, at the same time drawing a thermometer from his waistcoat pocket. The old negress stirred, and looked up out of sick eyes. "Doctor," she gasped, "I sho got a misery heah." She indicated her stomach. "How do you feel?" he asked hopefully. The woman panted, then whispered: "Lak a knife was a-cuttin' an' a-tearin' out my innards."
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