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Updated: May 20, 2025
Robbie stood in triumph over the prostrate figure. Phil laughed. "You got him that time, Robbie!" Robbie squared himself, raised his spurs and waited for Sid to rise. Sid was in no hurry. He had enough. He hadn't cried. But he was close to it. "Ye needn't put up dem spurs at me no mo'." "Come on again!" Robbie challenged. "Na, sah. I'se done dead. Ye stick dat spur clean froo me.
"Bodder de ole han'! Oh, how um do hurt!" "Can't you sleep, Pomp?" I whispered, as I crept softly to his side. "Dat you, Mass' George?" "Yes; I say, can't you sleep?" "Yes, Mass' George. Pomp can't sleep ebber so, but dis 'tupid han' won't let um." "Does it hurt?" "Yes. Big hot fly in um keep goin' froo. Pomp goin' take off de rag." "No, no; let it be; it will soon be better. Go to sleep."
I never didn't do it!" "Can't help it, brother!" answered Samson. "You're too good a man to go froo Somerset County. Square off or you'll ketch it!" "Den if I must I must! de Lord forgive me!" and after a tremendous battle the class-leader came off nearly conqueror.
An' bymeby, when de waw come he ups an' he says: 'I's done barberin', he says, 'I's gwyne to fine my ole mammy, less'n she's dead. So he sole out an' went to whar dey was recruitin', an' hired hisse'f out to de colonel for his servant; an' den he went all froo de battles everywhah, huntin' for his ole mammy; yes, indeedy, he'd hire to fust one officer an' den another, tell he'd ransacked de whole Souf; but you see I didn't know NUFFIN 'bout dis.
I ain't seen you look dat way, Kernel, since de day pooh Marse Stryker was fetched home shot froo de head." "Hand me down the whiskey, Jim," said the Colonel, rising slowly. The negro flew to the closet joyfully, and brought out the bottle. The Colonel poured out a glass of the spirit and drank it with his old deliberation.
And de consanguinuity ob dis 'casion assuages me ob de fac' dat we'se only got our come-upance fo' bein' so reckless. Now we is nebber gwine ter see de State o' Maine again, 'ceptin' it is froo de perfesser's telescope." His complaint received little attention from Jack Darrow or Mark Sampson; they were too deeply interested in the explanation of the catastrophe that had overtaken them.
Before she could ring, the door was flung open with the outburst, "I knowed it was you! I saw you froo de window." She caught up the laughing child with a loving word. "Of course you knew me, sweetheart! Where's mama, and Auntie, and 'Wobin', and all?" The brown curls bobbed against her shoulder and the red lips met her own in frank affection. "Dey's heah, but Wobin's wunned away." "Wunned away?
"Won't dwandma be glad to get some nice sugar plums? I wis I tood det froo dis fence." Through she got, with much squeezing and rending. Tot eyed her torn pinafore, ruefully. "I wis' 'ittle dirl's aprons wouldn't teep tearing on every single fing." "'Pears to me," doubtfully, putting one little foot down on the soft marshy ground, "it is wather wet." Rather wet? Yes, Totchen, very wet.
An' bymeby, when de waw come he ups an' he says: 'I's done barberin', he says, 'I's gwyne to fine my ole mammy, less'n she's dead. So he sole out an' went to whar dey was recruitin', an' hired hisse'f out to de colonel for his servant an' den he went all froo de battles everywhah, huntin' for his ole mammy; yes, indeedy, he'd hire to fust one officer an' den another, tell he'd ransacked de whole Souf; but you see I didn't know nuffin 'bout dis.
And then, after satisfying himself that nothing more was needed of him for the present, Isham left the room; and when he reached the kitchen, he addressed himself to its plump mistress: "Letty," said he, "when dat ar Mister Crof has got froo wid his dinner, you go an' fotch back de plates an' dishes. He axes too many questions to suit me, dis day." "You is poh'ly to-day, Uncle Isham," said Letty.
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