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Updated: May 17, 2025
Yo' boys are tired; I'll give him his medicine till to'd mornin'. Yo'd jes' soon, Prebol?" "Hit'd be friendly," Prebol admitted. "Yo' needn't to sit right yeah " "I 'low I shall," Rasba nodded. "I got some readin' to do. I'll git my book, an' come back an' set yeah!" He brought his Bible, and looking up to bid the two good-night, he smiled.
Hit'd become her a heap better'n it becomes you," Peters said, laughing. "Yas, I reckon it would," said 'Pollo; "but de fact is she gi' me dis hankcher an' of co'se I accepted it." "But why ain't you tellin' us what you give her?" insisted Peters.
"Hit'd be too bad t' kill they'uns here right in sight o' the house." "Le'me see them letters, Bushrod;" said the leader, snatching a package of letters and Annabel's picture out of the other's hand. "Mebbe thar's some news in them that the Captain'd like to have."
"I tell yer, Marse John," he resumed, after a thoughtful pause, "dey's one word o' ole marster's I don'no' huccome it slipped my min', but hit was a long glorified word, an' I often wishes hit'd come back ter me. Ef I could ricollec' dat word, hit'd holp me powerful in my preachin'. "Wonder ef you wouldn't call out a few dic'sh'nary words fur me, please, sir? Maybe you mought strike it."
I'll tell you what hit'd do: Hit would smash an' grind an' tear an' hammer that there fine, straight body of hers 'til hit was all broken an' twisted an' crooked a heap worse'n what I be, that's what hit would do; an' hit would scratch an' cut an' beat up that pretty face an' mess up her pretty hair an' choke her an' smother her 'til she was all blue-black an' muddy, an' her eyes was red an' starin', an' she was nothin' but just an ugly lump of dirt; an' hit wouldn't even leave her her fine clothes neither, the Elbow Rock water wouldn't, hit'd just naturally tear 'em off her, an' leave her 'thout ary thing what's makin' you love her like you're a-doin'! An' where would all her fine schoolin' an' smart talk an' pretty ways be then?
At this many nods and glances were exchanged by the group in silent admiration of the "gov'ment," and one mountaineer, bold even to recklessness, remarked, "Jim must have a heap o' money t' be a buyin' four dollar watches. Must er sold that gray mule o' hisn; hit'd fetch 'bout that much, I reckon." "Much you know 'bout it, Buck Boswell. Let me tell you, Jim he works, he does.
The table hit'd be comp'ny." "Certainly we'll come," Nelia promised, "if he'd just soon." "I'd rather," Rasba assented, and at his tone Nelia felt a curious sensation of pity and mischievousness. At the same time, she recovered her self-possession.
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