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Updated: June 24, 2025
I doan blebe in deze yere 'spensive funuls nohow. Huh, an' you oughter hab ernuff by dis time ter bury bof o' us. An' ef you says de word I'll be buried side o' you ter keep you comp'ny." She ceased her work and looked at him. "I won't need no comp'ny. I'll be busy tellin' de Lawd 'bout de folks down yere. An, I gwine tell him, w'in I goes home."
"Well, no, p'r'aps not 'zactly dat, Sooz'n, but suffin wid de same meanin'. You know it i'n't possible for me to speak like dem. An' dey bof seemed to hab got deir go-to-meetin' langwidge on all stiff an' stuck up grammar, same zif dey was at school.
You mout feel like you's safe ernuff ez long ez you ain't lost bof laigs an' er arm or two, but dat sort er safe doan suit me." "I give you my word, an' you know whut that means." "Yas, suh, I knows all 'bout dat, but er word kain't stop er bullet." Over to the old negro he slowly walked and gently put his hand on his shoulder: "My word can, old man mine has, an' I will protect you with my life."
Little did innocent Prudy dream of the queer thoughts which were chasing one another in her little sister's brain. After she and Susy had gone, and the house was quite still, Dotty stood at the window, looking down street. It was a lovely day; the clouds were "softer than sleep." "O, my suz!" said Dotty Dimple; "there they go, way off, way off, Susy and Prudy. Bof of 'em are all gone.
"Den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be oneasy, so I'll bid ye bof good-night, an' turn in." In this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep. Nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer.
I'se comin' back dis ebenin', an' we'se start in kin' ob easy like so you hab a chance to larn and not get 'scouraged." "I can't approve of this plan at all," said Mrs. Hunter, loftily, "I wash my hands of it." "Now, now, Missus, you do jes' dat wash you hans ob it, but don' you 'fere wid Missy, kase it'll set her heart at res' and keep a home fer you bof.
An' now, s'posin' I wuz ter ontie yer, Nancy Jane O, could yer tuck me on yer back an' cyar me ter de crick? an' den we'd hab de sho' thing on de gol'-stone, caze soon's eber we git dar, I'll git it, an' we'll cyar it bof tergedder ter de king, an' den we'll bof git de deares' wush uv our hearts.
Hi! didn't she fly roun', and forgot all 'bout Luce, a tryin' to hit dis nig and dis nig scooted and runned, and when missus' hand come down wid de big key, thar warn't no nigger's head at all thar and missus was gwine to lay it on so drefful hard, dat she falled ober hersef right down into de kitchen, and by de time she picked hersef up, bof de nigs war done gone. Ho, ho, ho!
An' jes ez he said dat, he felt hisse'f slippin', an' dat made him clutch on ter Po' Nancy Jane O, an' down dey bof' went tergedder kersplash, right inter de crick. "De frog he fell slap on ter er big rock, an' bust his head all ter pieces; an' Po' Nancy Jane O sunk down in de water an' got drownded; an' dat's de een'." "Did the king get the stone, Aunt Edy?" asked Dumps.
Footfalls, shuffling, approached the speaker. "Tom Sands is daid, dat's whut he is," resumed the first speaker, "leastways as good as daid, 'cause he's just a-layin' thah an' kain't move er speak. An' look at me, look at my haid. De ol' man hit him pow'ful hahd, an' ef he didn't hit me jest de same, it wasn't no fault o' his'n, I tell you. He jes' soon killed bof of us niggers thah as not.
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