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Updated: May 7, 2025
Mayton brought her foot down with a violent stamp. "I know you'd 'spect HIM, if you knew how nice he was," continued Budge. "He sings awful funny songs, an' tells splendid stories." "Nonsense!" exclaimed the angry mother. "They ain't no nonsense at all," said Budge.
"Yer min' dat boy Berry, he'd done borrered our mule, jest afo' dat, ter take Sally an' de chillen an' what few duds dey hez down inter Hanson County, whar his brudder Rufe libs, an' whar dey's gwine ter libbin' tu. Dar didn't nobody 'spect him ter git back till de nex' day, any more'n Nimbus; an' it war jes kinder accidental-like dat either on 'em got h'yer dat night.
'Mas' May and Miss May, ma'am. 'Mrs. Powder, Missee Hazel and all de rest! added Dingee. 'Spect dere ain't a livin' soul won't be there, time I get back. Miss Fisher, she done ask for Mas' Rollo. But I'se learnin' to tell the truf fustrate. 'What is the truth about me, Dingee? asked that gentleman. 'I should be glad to hear it.
They remained long enough to get full directions concerning the road that would bring them to the desolate little home of George. "I'd advise yuh tuh keep an eye out along the swamp, boys. They's a few bad coons somewhar in that thar place. The sheriff he 'lows tuh git 'em right soon, an' any day weuns hyah 'spect tuh see 'im drift in wid some prisoners.
I 'spect by the time it's used up Nance'll be of my way of think-in'. An' I was!" added Mrs. Wiggs, laughing. Ordinarily Lucy found endless diversion in listening to the family reminiscences, but to-day another subject was on her mind. "How is Billy getting along?" she asked. "Jes' fine!" said Mrs. Wiggs; "only he comes home at night 'most dead.
"I 'spect I will have to go to the pore-house some day, Levin; my ole aunt, who takes keer of me, can't live long, an' I ain't good fur nothin'. I can't git no jobs and I run arrands for everybody fur nothin', but the first money I git I'm gwyn to buy a new hat with. Ever sence I wore these bell-crowns Meshach hates me, an' I hope he's the only man that does hate me, Levin.
So saying, she sat down on a low stool with her paper on her knees, and her pencil in her hand. "What shall we begin with?" said she. "We'll begin with corn-meal," said Harry. "How much corn-meal do you eat in a week, Aunt Matilda?" "Dunno," said she, "'spect about a couple o' pecks." "Oh, Aunt Matilda!" cried Kate, "our whole family wouldn't eat two pecks in a week."
"I 'spect that's so," drawled Van lazily. "I ought to duff right in on all fours. I acknowledge it. But it is not so easy to make your mind go where you send it."
"Why, Marse Tom," gasped Mammy Belle, "I done spect you in de mawnin'." It was Marion who made the explanations, their friendship for James Mandeville and Mammy Belle's difficulty with the tree, and she did it with a gracious charm of manner that was irresistible. Mr. Norton's boyish yet careworn face flushed. "You are very kind to my little boy," he said.
Upon my assuring him that such was the fact, and that I had seen it myself, he said, "Injun not very smart; sometimes he's big fool, but he holler pretty loud; you hear him maybe half a mile; you say 'Merican man he talk thousand miles. I 'spect you try to fool me now, captain; maybe so you lie."
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