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"He c'u'd 've wrote that letter to himself.... He's wise enough.... Yeh can't fool Hickey all the time.... I'll get him yet. Gottuh make good 'r it's the sidewalks f'r mine.... Me, tryin' hard to make an 'onest livin'.... 'Nd him with all kinds of money!" The fat mottled fingers sought a waistcoat pocket and, fumbling therein, touched caressingly a little pellet of soft paper.
"Thar's a people wot ken look poverty in ther face 'nd laff it ter scorn; whar three squar meals a day ken be made on hope; whar wit grows on ther bushes; whar ther air ez filled with songs 'nd full hearts fill ther vacancy made by empty stomachs. It's ther most pathetic spot on earth, Jim.
"Well, he said he guessed it was the last one, miss, 'nd I'm afraid it is, sure." "Who is with him now? Are you going right back?" "Yes, miss, soon as I go 'nd git leave from the boss. Mis' Kennett's went to her washin'. She couldn't 'ford ter lose a job. I found Mr. Kennett, 'nd he's mindin' Patsy.
Elder Pill was on the best terms with them as he watched the milk being skimmed out of the "submerged cans" ready for the "caaves and hawgs," as Mrs. Buttles called them. "Uncle told you t' come here 'nd stay t' supper, did he? What's come over him?" said the girl, with a sort of audacious humor. "Bill has an awful grutch agin preachers," said Mrs. Buttles, as she wiped her hands on her apron.
But that didn't make no diff'rence; it wuz all the same to Lizzie. No matter where she wuz or what she wuz a-doin', jest as soon as the Old Man told her he wanted to tell her somethin' she dropped ever'thing else 'nd went straight to him.
Finally he had to take to his bed, he was so old 'nd feeble, but he made 'em move the bed up ag'inst the winder so he could watch for that last volyume of the cyclopeedy. The end come one balmy day in the spring uv '87. His life wuz a-ebbin' powerful fast; the minister wuz there, 'nd me, 'nd Dock Wilson, 'nd Jedge Baker, 'nd most uv the fam'ly.
"She had not seen me before. She screamed." "Thar'! that 's jest her! Wal, neow, I hope ye didn't mind. Sech folks don't do no harm 'reound on the 'arth, no more'n lady-bugs, 'nd r'a'ly, they dew help to parss away the time. "'O Mr. Garrison, says she, 'see that darlin' old aberiginile a-settin' out thar' on that log, says she. 'Dew drive up; I want ter talk to him, says she.
A face appeared at the apron, Hickey's, red and moon-like and not lacking in complacency: for the man counted of profiting variously by this night's work. "Excuse me, Mr. Maitland, 'nd" touching the rim of his derby "yeh, too, ma'am, f'r buttin' in " "Hickey!" demanded Maitland suddenly, in a tone of smoldering wrath, "what the what do you want?" "Yeh told me tuh call round to-morrow, yeh know.
That's Bill, perhaps, as he stands up f'r jedgment, a miserable, tremblin', 'nd unworthy thing, perhaps, but twined about, all over, with singin' and pleadin' little children and that is pleasin' in God's sight, I know. What would you what would I say, if we wuz settin' in jedgment then?
A cyclopeedy isn't printed all at oncet, because that would make it cost too much; consekently the man that gets it up has it strung along fur apart, so as to hit folks oncet every year or two, and gin'rally about harvest time. So Leander kind uv liked the idee, and he signed the printed paper 'nd made his affidavit to it afore Jedge Warner.
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