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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Dar ain' no reason why she cyarn' be tol' 'bout it," Zack winked to himself, starting to the stables for a full measure of oats. At the Colonel's request she came over early in the afternoon to see to the decorations for his table, and brought a bag with the idea of dressing there.
"Dar now," said Aunt Ailsey, soothingly, "you des set right still en wait twel ter-night at de full er de moon." She got up and took down one of the crumbling skins from the chimney-piece. "Ef'n de hine foot er a he frawg cyarn tu'n yo' hyar decent," she said, "dar ain' nuttin' de Lawd's done made es'll do hit.
Something in the unconscious dignity of her figure, as she stood there, seemed to dwarf her temporary mistress into insignificance. "You cyarn' say mus' to me," she said in a slow, repressed tone. "Dese ain' no slave days, an ol' mis' cyarn' make 'em so. I ain' no heathen an' I ain' no slave. My mammy bought herself an' her husban', an' we's all freeborn."
"I bet there isn't," retorted Champe. "You kin sell me ter Marse Minor but Lawd, Lawd, you cyarn mek mammy leave off whuppin' me. You cyarn do dat widout you 'uz a real ole marster hese'f." "I reckon I can," said Champe, indignantly. "I'd just like to see her lay hands on you again. I can make mammy leave off whipping him, can't I, Betty?" But Betty, with a toss of her head, took her revenge.
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