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"Hyeah's some flowahs, Mis' Smif," she said. "I thought mebbe you might like to decorate 'Rastus's room," and she wiped the confusion from her face with her apron. "La, chil', thankee. Dese is mighty pu'tty posies." These were the laurels which Sally Martin had brought to lay at the feet of her home-coming hero.
You sut'ny look lak you plumb tukahed out. Come in an' tell me all 'bout yo'se'f, you po' little t'ing. Dese yo' little brothas an' sistahs?" "Yes'm," said Patsy Ann. "W'y, chil', whaih you goin'?" "I don' know," was the truthful answer. "You don' know? Whaih you live?" "Oh, I live down on Douglas Street," said Patsy Ann, "an' I's runnin' away f'om home an' my step-mothah."
"May Gawd curse her forever," she shrieked. "May she eat nothin' but stones and deh dirt in deh street. May she sleep in deh gutter an' never see deh sun shine agin. Deh damn " "Here, now," said her son. "Take a drop on yourself." The mother raised lamenting eyes to the ceiling. "She's deh devil's own chil', Jimmie," she whispered.
"Tell me, Sophy," she said, "was Elsie always as shy as she seems to be now, in talking with those to whom she is friendly?" "Alway jes' so, Miss Darlin', ever sense she was little chil'. When she was five, six year old, she lisp some, call me Thophy; that make her kin' o' 'shamed, perhaps: after she grow up, she never lisp, but she kin' o' got the way o' not talkin' much.
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