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Take de ole niggah if you's, got to hab somebody. Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a gwyne to, we don't know who you's got yo' eye on, but we knows by de way you's a comin', we knows by de way you's a tiltin' along in yo' charyot o' fiah dat some po' sinner's a gwyne to ketch it.
"That's missin' the Old Ladies' Home by some margin, ain't it?" "Yes," says J. Bayard Steele, adjustin' the chin part in his whiskers and tiltin' back comf'table in his chair, "I am beginning to think that the late Pyramid Gordon must have been a remarkably good judge of human nature." "For instance?" says I. "His selection of me as an executor of his whimsical will," says he.
Wife she's been layin' by egg money all spring to buy a swingin', silver-plated ice-pitcher, so he'll feel at home with sech things, an' capable of walkin' up to one an' tiltin' it unconcerned, which is more'n I can do to this day. I always feel like ez ef I ought to go home an' put on my Sunday clo'es befo' I can approach one of 'em.
"You haven't even said you were glad to see me." "I'm keepin' it a dead secret," says I. "What happened to Europe; was it on the fritz?" "Poky," says she. "And they found out I was no musical genius, after all. Aunty's disgusted with me." "She ought to take something for her taste," says I. "Oh!" says she, tiltin' her head on one side. "Then you still approve of me?"
You ought to be on the Revolution, now that TILTON is putting live people there." "I shall be a tiltin' myself, and on a revolution too," said Mr. P., "if this confounded horse don't slack up." "Why, what do you mean?" said Miss D. "I mean we shall upset," said he. "He's got his head too much your side," screamed Miss D. "Hadn't you better pull on the left string?" "No, I hadn't," yelled Mr.
Here he'd been forced into doin' something nice for a party he had a grudge against, has discovered that Twombley-Crane ain't such a bad lot after all, and has been well paid for it besides, out of money left by his old enemy. "Rather a remarkable set of circumstances, eh, Shorty?" says he, tiltin' back comf'table in one of my front office chairs and lightin' up a fresh twenty-five-cent cigar.
Th' ain't no fun in borryin' duplicates over a stile when company drops in sudden, without a minute's warnin'. "No, you needn't call my attention to that tiltin' ice-pitcher. I seen it soon ez I approached the case. Didn't you take notice to me a-liftin' my hat? That was what I was a-bowin' to, that pitcher was.
Take de ole niggah if you's, got to hab somebody. Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a gwyne to, we don't know who you's got yo' eye on, but we knows by de way you's a comin', we knows by de way you's a tiltin' along in yo' charyot o' fiah dat some po' sinner's a gwyne to ketch it.
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