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Updated: May 28, 2025
"But Mawse Chawlie, you' undress' he, he!" She was really abashed and half frightened. "I know that; and you have got to help me put my clothes on." "You gwan kill yo'se'f, Mawse Chawlie," she said, handling a garment. "Hold your black tongue." She dressed him hastily, and he went down the stairs of his lodging-house and out into the street. Clemence went in search of her master.
"What is that you say?" he demanded, with mock ferocity. "You charge white people with lying?" "Oh, sakes, Mawse Chawlie, no! De people don't mek up dat ah; de debble pass it on 'em. Don' you know de debble ah de grett cyount'-feiteh?
"Eh bien, old woman," said Mandarin, turning, without rising, and speaking sharply in the negro French, "have you any reason to give why you should not be hung to that limb over your head?" She lifted her eyes slowly to his, and made a feeble gesture of deprecation. "Mo té pas fé cette bras, Mawse Challie I di'n't mek dat ahm; no 'ndeed I di'n', Mawse Challie.
W'at I got do wid Mawse Frowenfel'? I goes on de off side o' sich folks folks w'at cann' 'have deyself no bette'n dat he, he, he! At de same time I did happen, jis chancin' by accident, to see 'im." "How is he?" Dr. Keene made plain by his manner that any sensational account would receive his instantaneous contempt, and she answered within bounds.
"Well, now, Mawse Chawlie, I gwan t' ass you a riddle. If dat is so, den fo' w'y I yeh folks bragg'n 'bout de 'stayt o' s'iety in Eu'ope'?" The mincing drollery with which she used this fine phrase brought another peal of laughter. Nobody tried to guess. "I gwan tell you," said the marchande; "'t is becyaze dey got a 'fixed wuckin' class." She sputtered and giggled with the general ha, ha.
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