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Updated: May 14, 2025
The same powdered, liveried, lazy, idle, good-for-nothin', do-little, stand-in-the-way-of-each-other, useless sarvants. Same picturs, same plate, same fixin's, same don't-know-what-to-do-with-your-self-kinder-o'-lookin'-master. Great folks are like great folks, marchants like marchants, and so on. It's a pictur, it looks like life, but' it tante.
He swore right up and down that he wouldn't take a cent as a gift. I offered to make him a present of ten dollars, but he looked so shocked that I apologized afore he could say no." "Yes, and then lent him that thirty. Shocked! The only thing that would shock that good-for-nothin' is bein' set to work. What possessed you to be such a soft-head, I don't know.
"Want to know how that good-for-nothin' liar an' thief gits them cigars?" he shouted. "Want to know? Well, I'll tell you. I give 'em to him, an' you did. How many of you can smoke cigars like them, hey? Smell 'em. Ten or fifteen cents apiece; mebbe more. We give 'em to him. Yes, sir, that's jest what we did.
Rather well by sight and reputation, a good-for-nothin' scalawag, as Jim catalogued him, name of Steve Jarrold. The door closed after them and Jim went back to his bench. In the house they were waiting for Gloria.
She even looked proudly around at the clustering neighbors, for by now every denizen of Darktown had apparently been drawn to the spot, all wild to hear what had happened. Her look was in the shape of a challenge. It seemed to say: "Dere now, what do yuh good-for-nothin' coons think of my Brutus, after hearin' dese white boys say as how he's a real hero?
He had found out that Emmie was with me, and the letter said he would likely come after her and the land. "That letter was like a flash of lightnin' to me. I was dismasted and on my beam ends. I didn't know what to do. I'd learned enough about this Henry Thomas to know that he was no use, a drunken, good-for-nothin' scamp who had cruelized his wife and then run off and left her and the baby.
But he run away, you see, again his father's will, an' he wur allus reckoned a good-for-nothin' kind o' chap so he seemed to think." "Who said that?" cried the old woman, pausing with the teapot poised in mid-air, and reddening all over her withered face.
The same powdered, liveried, lazy, idle, good-for-nothin', do-little, stand-in-the-way-of-each-other, useless sarvants. Same picturs, same plate, same fixin's, same don't-know-what-to-do-with-your-self-kinder-o'-lookin'-master. Great folks are like great folks, marchants like marchants, and so on. It's a pictur, it looks like life, but' it tante.
Here they are all pryin' an' suspectin'. But they shan't know if I die for it. They shan't know that good-for-nothin' girl went off an' got married unbeknown to me. They've had enough to crow over because we didn't get Thomas Maxwell's money; they shan't have this nohow.
Kitty's drivin', I reckon. I tell Stella that that machine and Kitty's learnin' to run the thing is about all the returns that Jim can show for the money he's spent in educatin' her. I don't mean," he added, with a quick look at Patches, as though he feared to be misunderstood, "that Kitty's one of them good-for-nothin' butterfly girls. She ain't that by a good deal.
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