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Updated: May 18, 2025
"No, I never heard of it!" said the stranger contemptuously, "but from what I've seen of it so far I should say it ought to be called Hell's Pit! Well, what do you do when you want your car fixed?" "Well, we don't hoppen to hove a cyar," said Tom with a meditative air, stooping to examine the spokes of a wheel, "Boot, ef we hod mon, I'm thenkin' we'd fix it!"
"But, goodness, gracious sake, you're pretty, pretty as a picture! I 'lowed yo' had a man scoutin' aroun'. Why somethin' mout happen to a lady, if she didn't have a man or know how to take cyar of herse'f." Nelia shrugged her shoulders. Mrs. Tons, the river woman, gazed for a minute at the pretty, partly averted face.
"Now don't yer take on like dat, er makin' uv yerse'f sick," said Uncle Bob; "I know wat I gwine do; my min' hit's made up; hit's true, I'm brack, but den my min' hit's made up. Now you go on back ter de house, outn dis damp a'r, an' tuck cyar er yerse'f, an' don't yer be er frettin', nuther, caze my marster, he's de bes' man dey is; an' den, 'sides dat, my min' hit's made up.
I think they took off into the bushes here, and where that cyar goes we ought to go," Pros argued. But Johnnie hurried on ahead, looking about her eagerly. Suddenly she stooped with a cry and picked up from the path a small object. "They've carried him past this way," she panted. "Oh, Uncle Pros, he was right here not so very long ago."
The Nadia was in and side-tracked, with a sleepy porter on guard. Ford climbed to the platform and asked for the president. "Yas, suh; dis is Mr. Colbrith's cyar; but he don't see no newspapuh men no, suh. Besides, dey's just gettin' up," was the rebuff; but Ford ignored it. "'They? Then Mr. Colbrith isn't alone?" "No, suh; got a pahty 'long with him a young gentleman and two ladies; yes, suh.
"Oh, a comfortable bachelor, past middle age; business man; Southern; just a little touch of the 'cyar' for 'car. Said he was going to take his niece to Newport next week. Has Miss Lamont said anything about going there?" "Well, she did mention it the other day." The house was filling up, and, King thought, losing its family aspect.
"I'm not the ordinary consignee, and you can tell them that, too." "I'll do that same," said Quilty; "but I misdoubt if a cyar wheel turns the faster for ut.
Uncle Sambo was very accommodating, and soon made his appearance, then partners were taken, and an Old Virginia reel formed. The tune that they danced by was "Cotton-eyed Joe," and, the words being familiar to all of them as they danced they sang, "Cotton-eyed Joe, Cotton-eyed Joe, What did make you sarve me so, Fur ter take my gal erway fum me, An' cyar her plum ter Tennessee?
Even Aunt Timmie, the ebony font of wisdom, had but recently looked slyly at her, remarking: "'Foh long we's gwine to have a weddin' in a private cyar!" She now strolled on beneath the trees, beneath giant clinging wild grape and trumpet vines, to a circle of low spreading cedars, wherein lay a carpet of odorous tanbark. It was a favorite spot with her.
But Lorenzo and Saynt Augustine was that absorbed watchin' each other for, yu' see, the Santa Fe and the Southern Pacific come together at Mojave, an' the two cooks travelled a matter of two hundred an' ten miles in the same cyar they never thought about a telegram.
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