"You ain't ashamed?" he repeated. "You ain't ashamed! Why, you Didn't you tell me you'd never sell that land? Didn't you promise me?" "I did not promise anything. At first I promised not to sell without letting you know of my intention. Afterward I took back that promise." "But why did you sell? You said it wan't a question of price at all. You made your brags that it wan't!

Now, I went over thar when Miss Mary was gwine to be married, and Jinny she jest showed me de weddin' pies. Jinny and I is good friends, ye know. I never said nothin'; but go 'long, Mas'r George! Why, I shouldn't sleep a wink for a week, if I had a batch of pies like dem ar. Why, dey wan't no 'count 't all." "I suppose Jinny thought they were ever so nice," said George. "Thought so! didn't she?

Why, I wan't never aware you had met with a disappointment, Abby," said Mrs. Bickford instantly. None of her neighbors had ever suspected little Miss Pendexter of a romance. "Yes 'm, he's livin'," replied Miss Pendexter humbly. "No 'm, I never have heard that he died." "I want to know!" exclaimed the woman of experience.

But tell me, did Gabe look wild or out of his head when he gave it to you?" "Why, no. He just looked oh oh, you know, Uncle Jed MYSter'ous that's how he looked, MYSter'ous." "Hum! Well, I'm glad to know he wan't crazy. I've known him a good many years and this is the first time I ever knew him to GIVE anybody anything worth while.

Anyhow, I knowed there wan't nothin' like it in the Methodist Church, an' I jist up and let Doc know I wouldn't marry anybody that believed such stuff. Doc reckoned to change my mind, but my argument was jist plain 'I won't! and that settled it.

I donno's 't 's goin' to be much uv a place for carpet-weavin' though, anywheres raound 'n this yer country; not but what thar's plenty o' rags, but folks seems to be wearin' 'em; pooty gen'ral wear, I sh'd say. I've seen more cloes on folks' backs hyar, thet wan't no more'n fit for carpet-rags, than any place ever I struck.

"I next went in search o' my ole mar. She wan't hard to find; for if ever a critter made a noise, she did. She wur tied to a tree close by the shanty, an' the way she wur a-squealin' wur a caution to cats. I found her up to the belly in water, pitchin' an' flounderin' all round the tree. She hed nothin' on but the rope that she wur hitched by.

Aunt Mary had become so feeble that she was not able to do steady work. She lived in a comfortable cabin at the foot of the hill, making frequent excursions to the "great house" to see that "the niggers was 'memberin' they places and that that there Ca'line wan't sleepin' out er season." "Well, Miss Milly, it's jes' this way: some folks is good slow cooks an' some is good quick cooks.

"I don't know who could have taken it," Mrs. Jucklin went on. "It couldn't have walked off, I'm sure. Limuel?" "Yes, ma'm." "Do you know what has become of that old curtain?" "What, that ragged old thing that wan't worth nothin'?" "Worth nothin'! Why, it belonged to my grandmother." "I never heard of that before." "Oh, yes, you have, and what's the use of talkin' that way?

Why, my fust husband wasn't but a week makin' up his mind, and pa," she continued, referring openly to Grandpa Keeler, "he wan't quite so outspoken, to be sure; but he came around to it in the course of a month or two, and kind o' beat around the bush then, and wanted to know what I thought on't, and wall, I told him 'yes, I didn't see no use in bein' squeamish so long as I'd once made up my mind to it."