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Updated: June 21, 2025
Fer common doin's I don' callate ez two fellers is more'n my fair share in a scrimmage, but ye see my arm wuz busted, an if ye hadn't come along jess wen ye did, I callate the buryin squad would a cussed some on caount of my size, that evenin. "But gosh all hemlock, Perez, I dunno wat makes me speak o' that naow. It wouldn' make no odds ef I'd never sot eyes onter ye afore.
"I met her in the hospital. She used to go there to see Zeb Meader." "That's so," said Mr. Redbrook; "Zeb told me about it, and she used to come to Mercer to see him after he got out. She ain't much like the old man, I callate." "I don't think she is," said Austen.
"A hull slew on em," replied Bement. "I've got one more'n I shall hev much longer, tew." "Who be that?" asked Zeke. "Wal, I callate George Fennell won't hole out much longer." "Fennell; George Fennell! George Fennell is not in this jail," cried Perez. "Wal, naow," said Bement, imperturbably, "perhaps ye know better'n I dew."
And if the truth be told, he was a little annoyed at Mr. Hopper's free use of her name. "That shouldn't make no difference," said Eliphalet with just a shade of bitterness in his tone. "They keep open house, like all Southerners," Mr. Hopper hesitated, "for such as come well recommended. I 'most forgot," said he. "I callate you're not any too well recommended.
Her look softened. She laid down the book and went up to him on the porch and put her hand on his shoulder. "Do you really want it so much as all that, Uncle Jethro?" she said. "Callate I do, Cynthy," he answered. He held a bundle covered with newspaper in his hand, he looked down at Cynthia. He seated himself on the edge of the porch and for the moment seemed lost in revery.
"It ain't broke off?" "No," he answered, "it ain't broke off. But I callate she won't have him when the time comes. She's got too much sense." Heavy at heart, Stephen climbed the stairs, thanking heaven that he had not been drawn into the controversy. A partial comprehension of Mr. Hopper was dawning upon him.
Hopper, slowly and with conviction, "they wouldn't be a circumstance to Silas Whipple when he gets mad. My boss, Colonel Carvel, is the only man in town who'll stand up to him. I've seen 'em begin a quarrel in the store and carry it all the way up the street. I callate you won't stay with him a great while."
He is a little man, and has a habit of rubbing the sharp ridge of his nose. "How be you, Jethro?" says Samuel. "Killed the brindle Thursday. Finest hide you ever seed." "G-goin' to town meetin' Tuesday g-goin' to town meetin' Tuesday Sam'l?" says Jethro. "I was callatin' to, Jethro." "Democrat hain't ye Democrat?" "Callate to be." "How much store do ye set by that hide?" Samuel rubs his nose.
Perhaps it is needless to add that Miss Virginia Carvel formed the central figure of it. "Enjoy in' yourself?" asked Mr. Hopper. Stephen countered. "Are you?" he asked. "So so," said Mr. Hopper, and added darkly: "I ain't in no hurry. Just now they callate I'm about good enough to manage the business end of an affair like this here. I guess I can wait.
And tell him that his daughter has come from Kentucky, and is waiting for him." "I callate Mr. Carvel won't be here this morning," said Eliphalet. He went back to the pile of dry goods, and began to work. But he was unable to meet the displeasure in her face. "What is your name?" Miss Carvel demanded. "Hopper." "Then, Mr. Hopper, please find Ephum, or Mr. Hood."
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