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"I ain't gwine wuck at no sich place, ca'yin' breakfus' to a big beef uv a nigger, stout as a mule. Say, nigger, wha-chu doin' in heah, anyway? Hoccum dis?" Peter tried to explain that he was there to do a little writing for the Captain. "Well, 'fo' Gawd, when niggers gits to writin' fuh white folks, ants'll be jumpin' fuh bullfrogs an havin' other niggers bring dey breakfusses.
"My accident, seh. Mr. Leggett, hoccum you got all dat poweh?" "Ah!" said the smiling gallant, "you wants to know the secret o' my poweh, do you? Well, that interjuce the ezacly question I'm jess a-honin' to ass you. You ass me the secret o' my poweh. Don't you know thass the ve'y thing what Delijah ass Saampson?" "Yass, seh. I knows. Dass in de Bible, ain't it?" "It is.
"No," demurred Peter, "you were quarreling in the kitchen the first morning I came here, and you didn't know I was on the place." "Well I got my tribulations," she snapped, staring suspiciously at these unusual questions. There was a pause; then Peter said placatingly: "I was just thinking, Aunt Rose, you might forget your tribulations if you didn't ride them all the time." "Hoccum!
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