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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Miss Sally, he set his jaw an' he ketched Unc' Bernique by the arm an' helt him an' made him swear like this, 'You by your love for Piney's young mother, I by my love for Salome Madeira, that never, s'help us God, will you or I carry word of this to Crittenton Madeira and his daughter Salome' sumpin like that, Miss Sally. I don' adzackly remember the words."
"The lawyer feller, he ain't to blame," said one apologetically. "He made things look right plain. He ain't no fool." "Well, I don't know as he helt no aidge over ole Claib Benson," said another argumentatively. "Claib puts it mighty powerful." "Yes, but," said the other eagerly, "Claib means fer hangin' by the Co'te." "Shore," said a voice.
We fair helt our breath as he backed away from the road an' took a little easy gallop until the hoss was near even with him. Another dog would have blown his lungs loose, tellin' what he was a-goin' to do; but Cupid never said a word.
Ef my old mars's fambly hadn't er gone fo'th en' bin scattered to de fo' win's of de university, I'd a helt on, but when de las' of 'um went to dat Europe, dey couldn't 'ford to take me, an' I had ter stay. An' when I heerd as all yo' kin was gone an' you was gwine to live erlone like dis yere, I come to ax yer to take me to wait on yer as a favier, Marse Rupert as a favier.
She died right yer while you was a-traipsin' an' a-trollopin' roun' frum pos' to pillar a-upholdin' your quality idees. These arms helt 'er, says I, 'an' ef hit hadn't but 'a bin for her, Emily Wornum, says I, 'I'd 'a strangled the life out'n you time your shadder darkened my door. An' what's more, says I, 'ef youer come to bother airter Pud, the make the trail of it.
She started, as usual, about daybreak, over to her cousin, Molly Dugan's, fer a bucket o' fresh milk, an' we never missed 'er until it was time she was back, an' then we went all the way to Dugan's before we found out she hadn't been thar at all. Then her ma tuck up a quar notion, an' helt to it like a leech fer a long time.
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