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"The w'ite man he wuks fur is got one an' Jeffy gits the borrowin' use of her it's a mare w'enever he want to, ez I knows frum whut he tells me an' frum whut I seen. Purfessor, that mare is jes' natchelly ordained an' cut out fur peradin' broad ez a feather-tick, gentle ez the onborn lamb, an' mouty nigh pyure white perzactly the right color fur a gran' marshal's hoss.
"An', mebbe I ain't sayin' you actually is; I's sayin' it with a mebbe mebbe you been marvelin' in yore mind whut it wuz w'ich pestered me an' made me ack so kind of no-'count?" "I ain't needin' to marvel," she stated coldly. "I knows. Laziness! Jes' pyure summer-time nigger laziness, wid a rich streak of meanness th'owed in." "Nome, you is wrong," he corrected her gently. "You is wrong there.
"Oh, tha's settled," announced Jeff soothingly. "Who settled it?" "Me." "You?" "Yas, me out of pyure frien'ship fur you. Lissen, Brother Lovin', an' give due heed. I comes to you d'rect frum Gumbo Rollins. He's done seen the error of the way he acked tow'ds you that time. He's cravin' that all the grudges of the bygone past shall be disremembered.
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