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I don't set up to be no better than my neighbours, specially with my tail snipped off the way 'tis, but I want you all to know Tedda's quit fightin' in harness or out of it, 'cep' when there's a born fool in the pasture, stuffin' his stummick with board that ain't rightly hisn, 'cause he hain't earned it." "Meanin' me, madam?" said the yellow horse.
I don't set up to be no better than my neighbours, specially with my tail snipped off the way 'tis, but I want you all to know Tedda's quit fightin' in harness or out of it, 'cep' when there's a born fool in the pasture, stuffin' his stummick with board that ain't rightly hisn, 'cause he hain't earned it." "Meanin' me, madam?" said the yellow horse.
The street was black as pitch 'cep' for the street lamps, and as she passed ever' one I could see she was still cryin' and stumblin' along like she was blind. "It was so late we didn't meet anybody at tall, and there wasn't a light in a single house except Joneses, where somebody was sick, I guess. But they didn't pay any attention, and at last she came to the bluff here. And I follered.
“Those are my acts I’ve been counting,” the girl replied a little gingerly. “Yo’ ax? I don’ see nuttin’ ’cep’ a piece o’ papah plum fill up wid holes. W’at you call ax?” “Acts acts. Don’t you know what acts are?” “How you want me know? I neva ben to no school whar you larn all dat.”
I 'ain't got one stitch, miss, but what I stand up in 'cep' it be a hodd glove an' 'alf a pocket-'an'kercher. Nobody 'ill know you. Con. But I oughtn't to be out dressed like this. Sus. You've only got to turn up your skirt over your head, miss. Con. Sus. Well, I never! Con. What's the matter? Sus. Only the whiteness o' the linin' as took my breath away, miss.
Aw'm sartin sure ov him when aw see him. Aw'll not goo nigh him till somebory cooms cep' he roons away. Aw'm noan fleyed ov him, but aw met not be able to keep mo howd ov him. Oh, mo Mattie! mo Mattie! to leave thi owd faither for sich a mak ov a mon as yon! But yere cooms somebory moor. Enter MRS. CLIFFORD. Mrs. C. No one here? She can never be in his room with him! Mr. Waterfield!
At length six men in a body, and one lagging behind, appeared coming down the winding path, all but Peter no doubt wondering why they were called so soon from their beds on such a peaceful morning after being out the night before. Malcolm went to meet them. "Freen's," he said, "I'm in want o' yer help." "Onything ye like, Ma'colm, sae far 's I'm concernt, 'cep' it be to ride yer mere.
"Weel, 'cep it was the oonnaiteral luik o' the thing no human, an' yet sae dooms like it I can not account for the grue or the trimmle 'at cam ower me, my lord, I never fan' onything like it i' my life afore. "Go in at once," said the marquis fiercely. Malcolm looked him full in the eyes. "Ye mean what ye say, my lord?"
You never did. No, nor no one else, 'cep' he spent the whole of his life in the foolish house." "Some one betrayed 'em for ten thousand dollars?" Bud's question came with a sharp edge to it. "Don't guess 'betray's' the word, mister. It was jest a commercial transaction. You jest need to get a right understanding of them things.
Soon ez he got out o' sight he pulled up, an' we walked along tell we come to de road whar leads off to'ds Mr. Barbour's. He wuz de big lawyer o' de country. Dar he tu'ned off. All dis time he hedn' sed a wud, 'cep' to kind o' mumble to hisse'f now and den. When we got to Mr. Barbour's, he got down an' went in. Dat wuz in de late winter; de folks wuz jes' beginnin' to plough fur corn.
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