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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Well, I nebber see!" cried Pomp at last, after stepping back, and preserving the most profound silence time after time. "What's the matter?" "Why Mass' George no shoot?" "Because we don't want the birds. You don't care to have to carry them, do you?" "No; dis wallet um so dreffle heabby."
"No, Pomp," I said, "it's the Indians, and they are silent because they are getting near the house now." "So Pomp get near de house, and don't care for de Injum. He so dreffle hungry."
Oh, no. It somefing dreffle. Let run." "Why isn't it your father playing a trick?" "Him couldn't play um trick if him try. No, Mass' George, him nebber play trick. It somefing dreffle. Come 'way." "Well, we were going back," I said, feeling rather ashamed of my eagerness to get away, and still half uneasy about the gun, as I looked up at the tree where we had slept to see if I had left it there.
She was dreffle p'inted about dat. An' now, look h'yar, you Plez, jus' you cut round to your Aun' Patsy's, an' tell her Miss Annie's husband's done come." "Whar ole Miss?" inquired Plez. "She 'sleep?" "No, she mighty wide awake," said Letty. "But you take dem knives an' dat board an' brick, an' run down to de branch to clean 'em.
He was dreffle sweet on her for about a month, and mebbe she was happy, mebbe she wa'n't: how should I know about white folks' feelin's? All of a suddent he said she was sick and couldn't go out of the middle state-room. The old man took in plenty of stuff to eat, but he never let me go near her. We was on just such a v'y'ge as this, only hotter.
Den ole Sent Peter he sings out: 'Look h'yar, uncle, whar you gwine? Dar ain't no cullud gal'ry in dis 'stablishment. You's got to come in dis same gate wid de udder folks. So de cullud angel he come up to de gate, but he kin' a hung back till de udders had got in. Jus' den 'long comes a white angel on hossback, wot was in a dreffle hurry to git in to de gate.
For 't seems 's if it might 'a' ben me in that boat, who heern that v'ice I loved so dreffle well speak up agin so nat'ral from the bank there. An' he eat some o' their fish! O' course he done it to sot their minds easy, to show 'em he wa'n't quite a sperrit yit, but jest their own ole frien' who 'd ben out in the boat with 'em so many, many times.
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 ranksas 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."
But for three days no one spoke a friendly word to him, and he pined away with a broken heart. On the fourth night, when all was quiet, little Gulliver saw a black shadow steal across the lawn, and heard a soft voice say to him: "Poor bird, you'll die, if yer stays here; so I'se gwine to let yer go. Specs little missy'll scold dreffle; but Moppet'll take de scoldin for yer.
Misc Somers say she don't think it was Gineral Washin'ton, caze he cuss so. She goin' to find out when she kin git a book an' somebody to read outen it to her, caze she dreffle smart." "Grand-aunt Tilghman," Vesta interposed to the blank silence of the room, "knew General Washington intimately." "Do tell us!" cried Rhoda. "You kin be a right interestin' ole woman, I reckon, ef you air so quar."
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