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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Also vot vill be dher gost, if any?" put in Shylock. A murmur of disapprobation greeted this remark. "The cost need not trouble you, sir," said Sir Walter, indignantly, addressing the stranger; "you will have carte blanche." "Den ve are ruint!" cried Shylock, displaying his palms, and showing by that act a select assortment of diamond rings. "Oh," laughed the stranger, "that is a simple matter.
Ther Martin boys an' ther Copelands an' others beside 'em, 'lows thet they ain't seekin' no heedless trouble and hit's more heedful-like fer 'em ter go on home an' avoid an affray. Ef they stays on hit's right apt to end in blood-lettin'." McGivins drew himself to a more rigid erectness. "Go back an' tell them boys thet I needs 'em," he ordered. "Tell 'em ef they don't stand by me now, I'm ruint.
Algernon Jones come ag'in, an' now, O Lord, please don't lemme worry the very 'zistence outer Aunt Minerva any mo' 'n You can help, like she said I done this mornin, an' please, if Thy will be done, don't lemme tear the next new breeches what she'll gimme like I done ruint thesehere what I got on."
"It's done ruint," he replied, "you'll hafter th'ow it away; 't ain't fitten fer nothin. I done cried 'bout a bucketful in it." "Why did you cry?" asked Miss Minerva calmly. "Don't you like to work?" "Yes 'm, I jes' loves to work; I wish I had time to work all the time. But it makes my belly ache to churn, I got a awful pain right now." "Churn on!" she commanded unsympathetically.
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