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Updated: May 19, 2025
Marse Bob done knock his heels higher'n his haid. Oh, glory!" And puffing and sweating he dived into the fort with all the canteens. He had brought the water. But "Marse Jim, please, sar, make dis water go fur as possible," he pleaded. "'Twon't take much mo' dat kind o' work 'foh dar'll be one nigger less in dis world. No, sar!
The sexes meet for Chris'mas-trees an' such-like." "I'm jealous that 'twon't be the same. You can't hold your triflin' confabs with a great Chris'mas-tree blazin' away in your face as important as a town afire." "Well, I'm going to start along," the old woman decided, getting on her feet; "or else someone 'll be driving by and seeing us." Jan, too, stood up.
"Sure!" admitted Sam solemnly as though it hurt him to pain his friend. "Do you mean it will make more hiding for him?" "Sure!" emphatically grave. "I wish he hadn't gone!" There was sharp pain in Michael's voice. "I wisht so too!" said Sam with a queer little choke to his voice, "Mebbe 'twon't come off after all. Mebbe it'll git blocked. Mebbe he'll come back."
"Yes, just about once in a hundred years!" snarled Zeke. "YOU find something to keep fat on, anyhow. We'll broil you some cold night. Trot out your beans if there's nothing else." "Growl away," retorted Zeke. "'Twon't be long before I'll be eating chickens and pumpkin-pie in Opinquake, instead of cooking beans and rusty pork for a lot of hungry wolves."
Den de little bird settin' up in de tree he begin fer ter sing, en dish yer's de song w'at he sing: "'Sifter hol' water same ez a tray, Ef you fill it wid moss en dob it wid clay; De Fox git madder de longer you stay Fill it wid moss en dob it wid clay. "Up dey jump, de little Rabbits did, en dey fix de sifter so 'twon't leak, en den dey kyar de water ter ole Brer Fox.
Take it good-natured and they'll let you off light. They're only goin' to stretch you over the log and tan you eight or ten times with the leggin's. 'Twon't hurt much." The Marquis, with an exclamation of anger, his white teeth gleaming, suddenly exhibited a surprising strength. He wrenched with his arms so violently that the four men were swayed and dragged many yards from the log.
She did a dance step toward the front door, but called back to him: "Spike's set his heart on that chair. You'll have to find something else for yourself." "'Twon't always be so," retorted the judge, stung beyond reason at the careless finality of her last words. "You wait wait till the revolution sweeps you high and mighty people out of your places!
He's only swoonded," asserted the man addressed as Eb. "'Twon't do to lebe 'im here to die, Zack." "Sartin not; we'd hab bad luck all our days." "I reckon ole man Pearson will keep him; and his wife's a po'ful nuss." "Pearson orter; he's a Unioner." "S'pose we try him; 'tain't so bery fur off." On the morning of the 24th of December, Mrs.
"Why yes," admitted Jess. "That's the very box I always buy it in at our grocer's." "Yep," said Liz. "It comes in that. But that's an old box I've had a long time, and there was lic'rish powder in it. I guess 'twon't hurt none o' yer; but I wouldn't eat much o' that stuffin'." "Goodness!" murmured Jess, as the laughter broke out.
"Don't we turn off somewhere along here?" asked Dabney. "Ye-es. Green Pond's right down there, through the woods. Not more'n a mile. See't ye don't lose yer way. What bait have ye got?" "Bait? Angle-worms. Are they the right thing?" "Worms? Ye-es. They'll do. Somebody told ye, did they? 'Twon't take ye long to larn how to put 'em on."
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