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Updated: June 9, 2025


Then as if to himself "Oh, if I could only tell when morning would come!" "Massa want know when time to get up to go to work?" said Pomp, sharply. "Yes." "Oh, quite soon, sah. Sun come up dreckly, and warm poor little nigger; I so dreffle cold." "How do you know?" cried my father, clinging as it were like a drowning man to a straw of hope. "Oh, Pomp know, sah. Dah!

I lay down to sleep that night quite satisfied of my ability to wake up in good time; but it was still dark when Pomp was shaking my arm. "Make hase, Mass' George," he cried, with his lips to my ear, "um gettin' so dreffle late." "Eh? Now, no tricks," I said, in that irritable state of sleepiness when one wants just an hour longer. "Why, I have only just lain down."

" I think we'd better get home," I said to my companion, when Rod had finished; and we climbed into the coupe, Tedda whinnying, as we bumped over the ledges: "Well, I'm dreffle sorry I can't stay fer the sociable; but I hope an' trust my friends'll take a ticket fer me." "Bet your natchul!" said Muldoon, cheerfully, and the horses scattered before us, trotting into the ravine.

"Why, Pomp," I said, laughing, "what does this mean?" "Dab juss what I tell her, Mass' George," he cried. "I know you be quite please, on'y she all ashame and foolis like." "But, Pomp, my good fellow, you don't mean " "Oh yes, I do, Mass' George; and I know you be dreffle glad dat my wife."

I said. "No, Mass' George, but I dreffle hungly 'gain. Oh! Dem ugly tief 'teal de gun. No get duck for breakfass, eh?" "Let's think about escaping and getting back to the house before these savages. Ah, it's getting light."

"I don't seem to get reconciled no ways; it seems dreffle hard dreffle; but I'm glad you can feel so;" and the good old soul proceeded to press upon the child not only the tea, which she drank with feverish relish, but every hoarded dainty which their limited housekeeping commanded. It was toward sunset before Miss Roxy and Mara started on their walk homeward.

Foster perceived at once that the man wished his communication, whatever it was, to be unobserved by any one; he therefore moved towards him as if merely to glance at the compass. "Massa," said the negro, without looking at Foster or changing a muscle of his now stolid visage, "you's in a dreffle fix. Dis yer am a pirit. But I's not a pirit, bress you!

"Pomp quite well 'gain." "Want something to eat?" I said, smiling. "Yes, Mass' George. Pomp dreffle hungly now." "Oh well, we'll soon settle that," I said; and I looked round for the food, much of which was then lying under the big cypress, close to the heap of ashes I had once called home. "I'm afraid there is nothing left, Pomp," I said, apologetically. "Eh?"

The Deacon was the first to call to her. He is a very dark iron-grey four-year-old, son of Grandee. He has been handled since he was two, was driven in a light cart before he was three, and now ranks as an absolutely steady lady's horse proof against steam-rollers, grade-crossings, and street processions. "Salt!" said the Deacon, joyfully. "You're dreffle late, Tedda."

"I think we'd better get home," I said to my companion, when Rod had finished; and we climbed into the coupe, Tedda whinnying, as we bumped over the ledges: "Well, I'm dreffle sorry I can't stay fer the sociable; but I hope an' trust my friends'll take a ticket fer me." "Bet your natchul!" said Muldoon, cheerfully, and the horses scattered before us, trotting into the ravine.

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