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I kin say de Lawd's, but I want somethin' about de resurrection an' de life what I hearn in Virginny. An' now I mus' go 'long home. Ole Miss'll be wantin' me an' de chile." "What child?" Mr. Mason asked, in some surprise. Jake's face was a study as he hesitated a minute, winking to keep his tears back before he said, "Sartin', thar's a chile. Why shouldn't thar be, but fo' God it's all right.
"Now, Bob, you sen' word to Uncle Dan'el, Tom Anderson, an' de rest ob dem, to come to McCullough's woods nex' Sunday night. I want to hab a sin-killin' an' debil-dribin' time. But, boy, you'd better git out er yere. Ole Miss'll be down on yer like a scratch cat."
I had de pleasure of yer 'quaintance afore me and marster started on our trabels." "I've been alone here eber since," explained Victoria, not proof against his fascinations. "I'm sure yer haint altered a bit, Mr. Dolf." "I guess if yer don't go upstairs miss'll know why," cried Clorinda, sharply. "Jes give me dat pan, Mr. Dolf; I kint wait all day for you to empty it."
"They want to take you from me, do you hear? and that black Republican party up north wants to take you, too. They say I've no right to you, Congo, bless my soul, and you were born on my own land!" "Go 'way, Ole Marster, who gwine min' w'at dey say?" returned Congo, soothingly. "You des better wrop dat ar neck'chif roun' yo' thoat er Ole Miss'll git atter you sho' es you live!"
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