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"I beggs to stait that ittle bee for yoor int'rest for to look arter that air gurl cald Eme as was left yoor doar sum dais bak, if yoo doant ittle bee wors for yer, yood giv yer eer an noas too to no wot i nos abowt that gurl, it's not bostin nor yet threttenin I am, no, I'm in Downrite arnist wen I sais as yool bee sorrie if yoo doant do it."
"Heavens! if you would only tell the truth, Zeb. Did you really see an Indian, though?" "'Deed I did, and he run when he see'd me in arnist." "And you saw others yesterday, did you?" remarked Rosalind. "Two or free, down toward de woods. I spied 'em crawlin' and smellin' down dar, and axes dem dar business. Dey said as how dey's lookin' for a jack-knife dat dey lost dar last summer.
Geo'ge, Geo'ge," continued Peter, as he dragged the middy along, shaking him from time to time, "you'll be de deaf ob me, an' ob yourself too, if you don't larn to submit. An' see, too, what a hyperkrite you make me! I's 'bliged to kick hard, or dey wouldn't b'lieve me in arnist."
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