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Updated: May 10, 2025
George, old as he was, had the steadiest hands, and he filled the canteens one by one, closing their mouths on the cedar spigot. As he did it, he whispered, 'Dis'll make de ole nigger feel good. Massa gets flustered on dis and 'buses de ole wimin. De commissary fotches him can't hurt nuffin wid dat.
Go on, Mag, draw de dope fer Slimmy. Dat's better dan tryin' to put one over on de swell guy. Dis'll make him squeal fer fair!" The Magpie produced a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket, and laid them on the table in front of the Tocsin. "Dere youse are," he announced. "Help yerself, an' go to it, Mag!"
He was still standing like a statue, with his hands covering his face, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. It was the negro who had returned to see how he was getting on. "Look yar, now, Geo'ge," he said in quite a fatherly manner, "dis'll neber do. My massa buy you to work in de gardin, not to stand like a statoo washin' its face widout soap or water. We don't want no more statoos.
But her flash of happiness was only a flash, and went out again and left her spirit dark; for she said to herself, "He sole me down de river he can't feel for a body long; dis'll pass en go." Then she took up her tale again. "'Bout ten days ago I 'uz sayin' to myself dat I couldn't las' many mo' weeks I 'uz so wore out wid de awful work en de lashin's, en so downhearted en misable.
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