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Updated: June 6, 2025
He walked in, in his slouching fashion, shook hands with M. Perritaut, gave his name as David Sawney, cawntracter, and after talking a little about the county-seat question, he broached the question of marriage with Mathilde Perritaut. "I hearn tell that you are willin' to do somethin' han'some fer a son-in-law." "Varee good, Mistare Sonee. You air a man of bisnees, perhaps, maybe.
No han'some foreign gent could marry any one in this village, unless it was a chambermaid in a hotel. "That was the end of the first heat of the race with Lizzie in Pointview. Aleck had folded up his bluff an' silently sneaked away.
I s'pose you think you'll walk up Fifth Avenoo in the church parade, an' folks'll stare at you, an' nudge each other an' whisper 'Looka there! That's Miss Cora Slawson that you read so much about in the papers. That one on the right-hand side, wearin' the French shappo, with the white ribbon, an' the grand vinaigrette onto it. Ain't she han'some?"
It was a charming morning. The sun had risen, and hill and valley were glorified by its slanting rays. The air was bracing, and Ebenezer, though neither a poet nor a sentimentalist, felt his spirits rise, as with vigorous steps he strode on, letting his eyes wander at will over the landscape. "Looks kinder han'some," he said to himself. "I wish Susan Jones was with me now.
I give him everything I had and loved him, too, and he sold me me and my baby." "I reckon you don't belong fur down this way, Mary? You don't talk like it." "No, sir; I belong to Philadelphia. I was a free woman and a widow; my husband left me a little money and a little house and this child; another man come and courted me, a han'some mulatto man, almost as white as you.
The old man fixes it that she's to go over Mildred's work with an ink eraser before it comes to him. If Mildred knew about it, she never let on. Nothin' much bothered her. She'd come sailin' in any old time durin' the forenoon, lookin' as han'some as a florist's window and actin' as if she never heard of such a thing as a time clock. Piddie tackles her only once.
Birdie Callahan, who had worked in Ted's mother's kitchen for years, and who had gone back to her old job at the Haley House after her mistress's death, put it sadly, thus: "He was always th' han'some divil. I used to look forward to ironin' day just for the pleasure of pressin' his fancy shirts for him. I'm that partial to them swell blondes. But I dinnaw, he's changed.
William Geake opened his eyes wide and answered curtly, "Yes: that's my wife Naomi Geake. What then?" The man scratched his head, contemplating William as he might some illegible sign-post set up at an unusually bothersome cross-road. "She keeps very han'some, I will say." His smile grew still more ingratiating. "Was you wishin' to speak wi' her?" "Well, there! I was an' yet I wasn't.
"Some folks," he would say, "likes pretty neckties; an' some wears fancy socks; but fer my part I'd ruther show a han'some foot ner anything. It don't cost as much as wearin' socks an' neckties, an' it's more artistic like."
Miss Patty is werry han'some, and grows han'somer and han'somer ebbery time I sees her yah, yah, yah!" The laugh of that old negro sounded startling and unnatural, yet there was something of the joyous in it, after all, like every negro's laugh. "Yah, yah, yah! Yes, Miss Patty won'erful han'some, and werry like Miss Dus.
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