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Updated: May 11, 2025
Mis' Pennel was talkin' to me the other day about bleachin' 'em out 'cause they'd got yellow a-lyin'. I kind o' felt as if 'twas unlucky to be a-fittin' out a bride with her dead mother's things, but I didn't like to say nothin'." "Ruey," said Miss Roxy impressively, "I hain't never had but jist one mind about Mara Lincoln's weddin', it's to be, but it won't be the way people think.
"I nuver seed no use a-fittin' unless you is gwine ter fit in de yuther pusson's yawd," interpolated Aunt Rhody. "De way ter fit is ter keep a-sidlin' furder f'om yo' own hen roos' en nigher ter de hen roos' er de somebody dat's a-fittin' you." "Hold your tongue, Rhody," retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, and then drew Betty a little to one side.
Ever' night he used to set on the floor an' fool with them things, a-fittin' 'em here an' crackin' 'em off there, but I never paid no 'tention to him. One night, when I come in from Mrs. Eichorn's, what did I see on the floor but a sure-'nough tombstun-slab, an' spelt out in little blue tiles down the middle was: "'Pa. Gone, but not forgotten.
"Dar's de cattle pastur'," cried Big Abel, "en dey's been a-fittin' dar des look." "It must have been a skirmish," replied Dan, glancing down the slope. "The wall is all down, and see here," his foot struck on something hard and he stooped and picked up a horse's skull. "I dare say a squad of cavalry met Mosby's rangers," he added. "It looks as if they'd had a little frolic."
Whew! dat ar bucket hit sutney wuz a he'p, dat 'twuz, case I des hyeard de cawn a-poppin' all aroun' hit, en dey ain' never come thoo yit. "Well, suh, w'en I h'ist dat bucket ter git a good look out dar dey wuz a-fittin' twel dey bus', a-dodgin' in en out er de shucks er wheat dat dey done pile 'mos' up ter de haids.
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