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Farmin' somehow don't suit my talons. I need to be flung more 'mong people to fetch out what's in me. Then thar's Marann, which is gittin' to be nigh on to a growd-up woman; an' the child need the s'iety which you 'bleeged to acknowledge is sca'ce about here, six mile from town. Your brer Sam can stay here an' raise butter, chickens, eggs, pigs, an' an' an' so forth.
Presently she stepped down, and we continued our way homeward. "You an' me, we'll take a bo't an' go out some day and see mother," she promised me. "'Twould please her very much, an' there's one or two sca'ce herbs grows better on the island than anywhere else. I ain't seen their like nowheres here on the main."
"Folks ez hev got nuthin' ter say would do well ter say it." He flushed. "Ye hed mo' ter say ter the stranger-man." "Don't see him so powerful frequent. When a thing is sca'ce, it's apt ter be ch'ice," she retorted. She experienced a certain satisfaction in her acridity.
Squalls is sca'ce some times o' the year; but when there is one, I tell you a feller hears thunder!
"About a five hours out, 't was, we first sid the blink, an' comed up wi' th' Ice about off Cape Bonavis'. We fell in wi' it south, an' worked up nothe along: but we did n' see swiles for two or three days yet; on'y we was workun along; pokun the cakes of ice away, an' haulun through wi' main strength sometimes, holdun on wi' bights o' ropes out o' the bow; an' more times, agen, in clear water: sometimes mist all round us, 'ee could n' see the ship's len'th, sca'ce; an' more times snow, jes' so thick; an' then a gale o' wind, mubbe, would a'most blow all the spars out of her, seemunly.
The ole 'Squieh, he married a Jasper, an' thass how come the Tombses is remotely alloyed to the Mahches on the late Jedge's side, an' to you, Miss Barb, on Miss Rose's Montgomery side, an' in these times, when cooks is sca'ce an' butlehs is yit mo' so, it seem to me it seem to me, Miss Fannie, like yo' letteh was a sawt o' sawt o' " "Macedonian cry," said Fannie.
"I don't know where you'll find one," said Miss Laura. "I'll ask Peter," replied the colonel. "He ought to know." Peter was in the yard with Phil. "Lawd, Mars Henry!" said Peter, "fiddlers is mighty sca'ce dese days, but I reckon ole 'Poleon Campbell kin make you shake yo' feet yit, ef Ole Man Rheumatiz ain' ketched holt er 'im too tight."
"Shure yez did, didn't ye?" "No-o-o; neer a bit o' 't. It keemd nigh breakin' us." "Arrah, how?" "We-ell! ye see, when we got roun' to Orleens, we learnt that the boot-trade hed a'most stopped. The allygator leather didn't turn out jest the thing for brogans; an' besides, it got sca'ce by reezun o' the killin' o' them verming.
"A sca'ce ch'ice," commented her mother. "Sheep's got ter be butchered. I'd ruther be the butcher, myself healthier." Purdee was gone. He had glanced absently at his wife as if he hardly heard. He waited till she paused; then, without answer, he stepped hastily out of the door and walked away.
Paul Cotter was always huntin' fur books, an' books wuz mighty sca'ce in the Kentucky woods then." "Henry Ware and Paul Cotter always lived near each other," resumed Harry, "and in two cases their grandchildren intermarried. A boy of my own age named Dick Mason, who is the great-grandson of Paul Cotter, is also my first cousin."
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