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“All de same, dat ain’t gwine to fetch no mo’,” was the rather uncivil reply to this neat compliment to her culinary powers. Aunt B’lindy neva tetched a han’ to dem bacon an’ greens. She tole me out o’ her own mouf to put’em on de fiar; she warn’t gwine pesta wid ’em.”
“Warn’t gwine pesta wid ’em?” administering a cuff on the ear of the too communicative Betsy, that sent her sprawling across the table. “T’inks I’se gwine pesta wid you does you? Messin’ roun’ heah in de kitchin’ an’ ain’t tu’ned down a bed or drawed a bah, or done a lick o’ yo’ night wurk yit.”
Impossible!" "Eh! what will you, signor? It was la pesta; there was no remedy. La pesta cares nothing for youth or age, and spares neither rich nor poor." For a moment I leaned my head on my hand, affecting to be overcome by the suddenness of the news. Then looking up, I said, regretfully: "Alas! I am too late! I was a friend of his father's.
Landa, whateva you do I don't ca'e to know it; and if you talk to me again about this I shall go home. I would stay with you as long as you needed me, but I can't if you keep bringing this up." "I suppose you think you don't need me any moa! Betta not be too su'a." The girl jumped to her feet, and Mrs. Lander interposed. "Well, the'a! I didn't mean anything, and I won't pesta you about it any moa.
He considered it a moment, looking straight before him at the rows of ancient and musty books that adorned his walls, then he gave a sudden exclamation. "Pesta! I had nearly forgotten! I knew there was a curious thing I had to tell you, Angela, but in the hurry of your arrival it had for the moment escaped my mind . . ." "About Florian?" asked Angela anxiously.
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