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You know, Mis' Sykes an' I are kind o' connections, but you can make even your relations see sense if you go at 'em right. I donno," Calliope ended doubtfully, "but I done wrong. An' yet I feel good friends with my backbone too, like I'd done right!"
It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh. 'Where will you go, Stephen? 'I donno t'night, said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand.
I don't want ter see ennybody put upon, nor noways sufferin', ef so be's I kin help; but thet ain't ennythin' stronary, ez I know. I donno how ennybody could feel enny different." "There's lots doos, mammy," replied Jos, affectionately. "Yer'd find out fast enuf, ef yer went raound more. There's mighty few's good's you air ter everybody."
"No," Mis' Holcomb went on; "your soul's like yourself in the glass: they ain't anything there." "I donno," Calliope said again; "some mornin's when I wake up with the sun shinin' in, I can feel my soul in me just as plain as plain." Mis' Holcomb sighed. "Life looks dreadful footless to me," she said.
"But what is it?" "We mustn't keep him," urged Barbara. "No, I ain't goin' to be kep'. 'T won't do. I donno what it is. It's a kind of a turn. He's comin' partly out of it; but it's bad. He had a kind of a warnin' once before. It's his head. They're afraid it's appalectic, or paralettic, or sunthin'." Robert looked very sober.
"Donno." "Put your tobacco away, Higgins." "Garman big boss," said the Indian swiftly. "Esoka-bonus-che-tobacco. You give." "Boss of what?" Without taking his eyes from the plug Willy's right arm described an eloquent arc embracing the earth, the water, the sky, about them. "Big boss all country! Good tobacco. Strong " "Boss of the whole country, eh? What business is he in?" "Donno."
"Oh," said some one at Doctor Keene's side, disposed to quiz, "you niggers don't know when you are happy." "Dass so, Mawse c'est vrai, oui!" she answered quickly: "we donno no mo'n white folks!" The laugh was against him. "Mawse Chawlie," she said again, "w'a's dis I yeh 'bout dat Eu'ope country? 's dat true de niggas is all free in Eu'ope!" Doctor Keene replied that something like that was true.
"Who's seeing to them in the parlour? Who's getting their baskets out here? Where they finding a place for their wraps? Who's lighting the rest of the lamps? What time is it?" demanded Mis' Winslow, cutting her cakes. "Oh," said Mis' Bates from a cloud of brown butter about the cooking stove, "I donno whether we've done right. I donno but we've broke our word to the Christmas paper.
"Smell of them," Jenny bade her. "Honestly, wouldn't you know by the smell who they are for?" "I donno but you would," Mary admitted awkwardly, and marveled dumbly at the newness Jenny was feeling in that which, after all, was not new! When these things were all out, a little tissue-paper parcel was left lying in the drawer. "There's one more," Mary said. Jenny flushed, hesitated, lifted it.
Excep' for one thing: When I ask' her what she could do, if any, she says like she had on the street corner: "'I can't do nothin'. I donno no work. "'You think it over, s'I. She had rill capable hands them odd, undressed-lookin' hands I donno if you know what I mean? "'Well, s'she, sort o' sheepish, 'I can comb hair.
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