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Mind you, Brother Poindexter, I ain't got a word to say ag'in religion. I's strong fur it on Sundays, ez you well knows, but dog-gone religion w'en it come interferin' wid a pusson's chanct to pick up a little spare change fur hisse'f on a week-day!" "Spoke lak a true business man, Brother Lovin'," said Jeff. "Still, I reckin you's mebbe countin' the spoilt eggs 'fore they's all laid.
What she saw sent her flying back to the cabin with her mouth open and her limbs shaking. "Gordon Lee," she cried, "whose coffin is that settin' in our coal-shed?" The candidate for the next world looked very much embarrassed. "Well, 'Mandy," he began lamely, "I can't say 'zactly ez hit's any pusson's jes yit. But hit's gwine be mine when de summons comes."
She's in lub, an' when a pusson's in lub, she's so near to heaben dat she doan pay much heed to what's goin' on 'round her. An' dat's de way wif Missie Jean." Of all this excitement and innocent deception Jean was totally unaware. Part of the morning she played with the little Indian child along the shore, and rambling in the woods a short distance from the house.
I knows yer, I's er-gwine ter make yo' mammy gi' ye de worses' whippin' yer eber got an' I's gwine ter take dis here William right ober ter Miss Minerva. Ain't y' all 'shame' er yerselves? Er tamperin' wid de ha'r what de good Lord put on er colored pusson's head an' ertryin' fer ter scarify my feelin's like yer done. An' yer hear me, I's gwine see dat somebody got ter scarify yer hides."
"Thankee, sah, I'm gone. It loosens er ole pusson's feet, sah, ter know dat he gwine be paid. Hard times allus comin' down de big road, er kickin' up er dust." "Are you going?" the deputy stormed. "Confound you; I'll put you in jail for selling whisky if you are not back here in fifteen minutes." "Gone now!" exclaimed the negro, bounding from the door and striking a trot.
"I nuver seed no use a-fittin' unless you is gwine ter fit in de yuther pusson's yawd," interpolated Aunt Rhody. "De way ter fit is ter keep a-sidlin' furder f'om yo' own hen roos' en nigher ter de hen roos' er de somebody dat's a-fittin' you." "Hold your tongue, Rhody," retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, and then drew Betty a little to one side.
When a pusson's born to a thing, he's thrown away, you may say, on anything else. What was you thinkin' " But at this moment came a cheery call of "Huldy! Huldy!" and Hildegarde, cutting short the little woman's profuse thanks and invitations to call again, bade her a cordial good-by, and ran out to the wagon, carrying her purchase neatly done up in brown paper.
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