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"Miss Milly an' Marse Bob ain't said nothin' 'bout Miss Ann leavin'. Fac' is Miss Milly lef' word fer me ter dish up a good dinner fer Miss Ann whilst they wa' away an' serve it on a tray bein' as she wa' all alone." "Well, I 'low we'll be settin' down in the dinin'-room at the house pawty come dinner time," declared the old man, veiled insolence in his tone.
"Quit that kind of talk, Chet, unless you just admire to have every word of it repeated all over the county. Those little niggers of Mammy Judy's are lying round somewhere and are mighty 'cute, and sassy, I tell you. It's nothin' to ME, sure, but Miss Hilda mightn't like to hear of it. So soon after your particular attention to her at last night's pawty too."
The two girls laughed, and Miss Woodburn said: "Mr. Beaton is such a butterfly of fashion! Ah wish Ah was on mah way to a pawty. Ah feel quahte envious." "But he didn't say it to make you," Alma explained, with meek softness. "Well, we can't all be swells. Where is your party, anyway, Beaton?" asked Fulkerson. "How do you manage to get your invitations to those things?
"Hi, what you so nimble-come-trimble 'bout this mawnin'?" asked Aunt Em'ly, as she met Billy laden with baggage, sneaking out the back way, planning to load his coach before hitching up. "Miss Ann an' me is done got a invite ter a house pawty an' we air gonter hit the pike in the cool er the mawnin'." "Wha' you goin'?" "Heaben when we die," was all Billy would divulge.
There now, don't sit there and swing yo' hat under that chyar, but rouse out and come along with me to the pawty if you can shake a foot, and show Miss Pinkney and the gyrls yo' fit for something mo' than to skirmish round as a black japanned spittoon for Julia Jeffcourt!"
The two girls laughed, and Miss Woodburn said: "Mr. Beaton is such a butterfly of fashion! Ah wish Ah was on mah way to a pawty. Ah feel quahte envious." "But he didn't say it to make you," Alma explained, with meek softness. "Well, we can't all be swells. Where is your party, anyway, Beaton?" asked Fulkerson. "How do you manage to get your invitations to those things?
"Well, we'll stay on here a while longer then, Billy, but far be it from me to have it said we had worn out our welcome." "Now, Miss Ann, that there ain't possible here at Buck Hill. The house pawty air a breakin' up this day an' mo'n likely the gues' chamber will be returned to its rightful habitant. You mus' a hearn wrong 'bout Miss Milly not wantin' you.
The two girls laughed, and Miss Woodburn said: "Mr. Beaton is such a butterfly of fashion! Ah wish Ah was on mah way to a pawty. Ah feel quahte envious." "But he didn't say it to make you," Alma explained, with meek softness. "Well, we can't all be swells. Where is your party, anyway, Beaton?" asked Fulkerson. "How do you manage to get your invitations to those things?
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