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Updated: June 8, 2025
He appeared a little older, a little braver, a little wiser, yet there was about him still the look of superb physical vitality which had been the result of a youth spent in the open fields. "Howdy, Uncle Boaz," he said to the old negro, who approached with his wheelbarrow. "Your folks have all gone away for good haven't they?" "Hit looks dat ar way, marster, hit sutney do look dat ar way."
Big Abel took down the second best suit of clothes and examined them with an interest they had never inspired before. "I d'clar you sutney does set hard," he remarked after a moment, and added, tentatively, "I dunno whar de shuts gwine come f'om." "Not from me," replied Dan, airily; "and now get out of here, for I'm going to sleep."
I'se gwine git dar w'en I come ter de day me an Ole Marster rid in ter git his gol' f'om Mars Tom Braxton. De car'ige hit sutney did look spick en span dat day, en I done shine up my hosses twel you could 'mos' see yo' face in dey sides. Lawd! Lawd! "'I ain' tied, Plaintain, I'm tired, sez Ole Marster, 'I'm tired losin' money. Den Marse Plaintain he laugh like a devil.
Men sutney are tuh'ble slippery folks, Miss Cynthy, en y'all des better look out how you monkey wid 'em, 'caze I'se done hed nine, en I knows 'em thoo en thoo. De mo' you git, de likelier 'tis you gwine git one dat's worth gittin', dat's vat I 'low."
'Fo' de Lawd, Miss Cynthy, dat ar Eve sutney wuz a high-sperited 'ooman!" "But, Uncle Isam, it was so silly. Why, she'd been married to you already for a lifetime." "Dat's so, Miss Cynthy, dat's so, 'caze 'twuz dem ar wuds dat rile 'er mos'. She 'low she done been in subjection fur gwine on fifty years widout knowin' hit." He finished his coffee at a gulp and leaned back in his chair.
"Dass de way! Dat ole Mamie in de kitchen, she got her failin's an' her grievin' sins; but de way she do han'le chicken an' biscuit sutney ain't none on 'em! She plead fo' me to ax you how you like dem biscuit." He kept his head bent low over the table, setting a fork closer to Betty's hand; arranging the plates, then rearranging them, but never turning his eyes in her direction.
"Cats air jest like gals, anyway they ain't never happy unless they're eternally gallyvantin'. Why, that big white Tom of mine knows more about this here county than I do myself." "Days so, suh; days de gospel trufe; but I'se kinder flustered 'bout dat yaller cat caze ole miss sutney do set a heap er sto' by 'er.
You don't say so?" whistled Dan, in astonishment, regarding the mutton suspended on ramrods above the coals. "Well, suh, 'twuz des like dis," explained Big Abel, poking the roast with a small stick. "I know I ain' got a bit a bus'ness ter shoot dat ar sheep wid my ole gun, but de sheep she ain' got no better bus'ness strayin' roun' loose needer. She sutney wuz a dang'ous sheep, dat she wuz.
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