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"An' Sheby's a-goin' with him to choose 'em. He says he'll bet fifty dollars she has her notions about things, an' he's a-goin to hev 'em carried out, fer it's all fer her, an' she's the one to be pleased."
"I live about a quarter of a mile from here," said Latimer. "The brick house with the bay windows, opposite the square. Number 89." "I'd rather see ye in," replied Stamps, cautiously. "I might go into a house I do not live in," returned Latimer. "Ye won't. It's too late. Ain't ye gwine to say nothin', Mr. Latimer?" "What do you want me to say?" "Sheby's good-lookin' gal," Stamps said.
"Kinder tall an' slim, an' high-sperrity lookin'; Sheby's a gal, but she's got it too thet thar sorter racehorse look. Now, hain't she?" "I want you to see the store and the people in it," Sheba was saying. "It's my home, you know. Uncle Tom took me there the day after I was born. I used to play on the floor behind the counter and near the stove, and all those men are my friends."
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