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It was a rough, two-roomed cabin, with shabby furniture, but it seemed like a palace to the old darkey. "I reckon I'll put me up a red curtain," he sighed. "I been always a wantin' a red curtain, an' bless Bob, if they ain't already a row of skillets an' cookin' pots by the chimbly. I am moughty partial ter a big open fiah place wha' you kin make yo' se'f a ol' time ash cake."
Yer git that, don't yer? So come on down an' git this, an' that'll make two things yer git," he laughed boisterously, adding: "It's a weddin' present, an' if yer don't git a move on maybe the boss'll come his own se'f!" I could see from the woman's face that she was in a towering rage, but she went lithely as a girl, for all her years to the landing.
The child instantly gained confidence at the slight caress, took a fold of Peter's trousers in his hand for friendliness, and the two trudged on together. "Wh-whut you talkin' to yo' se'f for?" Peter glanced down at the little black head that promised to think up a thousand questions. "I was wondering where to go." "Lawsy! is you los' yo' way?" He stroked the little head with a rush of self-pity.
"Oh, dat big foolish giant, Koku, done got his se'f into trouble!" chuckled the colored man. "He done got holt ob one ob dem air contraptions, Massa Tom, an' he cain't let go! Ha! Ha! Golly! Look at him squirm!" and Rad laughed shrilly, which accounted for some of the sounds Tom had heard.
And so when Pappy come a-totin' milk, an' a-totin' pork, an' a-ploughin' his co'n outen the weeds, w'y, Sammy jest draw down his face an' look black at Pappy, and make like he mad at him like he don't want none o' them things like Pappy jest pesterin' round him fer nothin'. but meanness. Now mind, Aunt Cornely, I ain't say Sammy knows this his own se'f. But I studied Sammy mighty well, an' I know.
An' wen he seed dat, he got pow'ful mad, an' he 'low'd ter his se'f dat efn de Lord spar'd him, he inten' fur ter fix dat Woodpecker. "In dem times de Woodpecker's head wuz right black, same ez er crow, an' he had er topknot on 'im like er rooster. Gemmun, he wuz er han'sum bird, too. See 'im uv er Sunday, wid his 'go-ter-meetin'' cloze on, an' dar wan't no bird could totch 'im fur looks.
"Who yo' mean mah master?" he replied in surly tone. "I wish to see Mr. Haredale or Captain Danby." "No sich names hyah!" "Well then, I want Mr. Trenchard." "Who's yo' se'f to see Mas'r Trenchard?" "I am an acquaintance of his." "Well, ah don' know yo' face, so ah guess dey's bof' out fo' you an' so's yo'se'f an' can stay out, fo' shure."
"Then come an' git it," he carelessly replied. She hesitated. "Lay um down, then go back. Me get um." "Naw, old hatchet-face. Jest come on down an' git it yer own se'f, or I'll bring it up." "My Lady no let any one come here," she warned. "You go back quick!" "That's all right 'bout yer Lady, but the boss says fer me to hand this right in myse'f, an' what the boss says goes!
Yo'se t' blame to' this yo' own se'f. Ef yo' hadn't gone fo' is kick de bucket it nebber would 'a happened. It's yo' own fault, honey, an' doan't yo' forgit dat! No, yo' better go home an' git some dry clothes on." It was good advice, for Andy was soaking wet. He glared angrily at Eradicate, and then swung off down the road, the whitewash dripping from has garments at every step. "Land a massy!
De Lord years me w'en I say it, dey ain't a ha'r er yo' head dat I'd hurt, dat dey ain't. I ain't bad like dey make out I is, Miss Kitty. Dey tells some mighty big tales, but dey makes um up dey se'f.
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