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Updated: June 13, 2025
I thought it was doggone queer if Dell could dab away all her life at nice, common things that you only think is purty, an' then blossom out, all of a sudden, with one like that other was that yuh felt all up an' down yer back. The little cheat, she'd no business t' take the glory uh that'n like she done. I'll give her thunder when she gits back."
Jane yelped as I murdered an incipient kiss by knocking the jug out of his hand across the kitchen, but in kicking him out of doors I tripped over a bucket of water, and about half a score fine dace flopped miserably on the wet floor. "Dunna carry on a' that'n, Master Noll," said Joe. "I only com' up t'ouse to bring you them daceys." "And what the devil do I want with them?" said I angrily.
An' besides I want 'is scelp to hang up wi' mine an' that'n o' the Injun what scelped me. He kicked me in the ribs, the stinkin' varmint." Beverley pleaded eloquently and well, but even the genial Major Helm laughed at his sentiment of gratitude to a savage who at best but relented at the last moment, for Alice's sake, and concluded not to sell him to Hamilton.
"They do say," said I mockingly, "as how Swift Nicks is a good hand at splicing fishing-rods." "I never 'eerd tell of that'n," said the stolid ostler. "Are you really Swift Nicks, sir?" asked the lad, looking steadily at me with frank, innocent eyes. "No more than you are Jonathan Wild or Prester John, my son," I answered. "Then who are you?" he persisted. "I'm a poor splicer of fishing-rods.
"Can't tell 'bout revenues," retorted the other. "Don't you mind how that'n fooled everybody over on th' bend last year? He was jest as common as common, and folks all 'lowed he was just one of 'em." "But this one ain't like anybody that we ever met up with, and that's jest it," returned Sammy.
Doty, "she's as sot on Tom 's he's on her, 'n' ef ever a man wus a doggoned fool about a young 'un, he is about that'n; 'n' fur bein' a doggoned fool" triumphantly "when he sets out ter be, I'll back Tom agin any man in Hamlin." Tom said but little. He made no more jokes. He kept the child with him through the rest of the day, holding her upon his knee or carrying her out upon the porch.
So Kinraid followed the light his light into the icy chill of the dairy, where the bright polished tin cans were quickly dimmed with the warm, sweet-smelling milk, that Sylvia was emptying out into the brown pans. In his haste to help her, Charley took up one of the pails. 'Eh? that'n 's to be strained. Yo' have a' the cow's hair in. Mother's very particular, and cannot abide a hair.
And that's all o' that'n; and the other'n I promised David Mason Jeffries I wouldn't never tell no livin' soul 'less he gimme leef, er they guessed it out their own se'f!"
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