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Updated: May 4, 2025
"And I thought I'd have you perform the ceremony." This suggestion threw the old negro into excitement. "Me, Mr. Peter?" "Yes. Why not?" "Why, Mr. Peter, I kain't jine you an' Miss Cissie Dildine." Peter looked at him, astonished. "Why can't you?" "Whyn't you git a white preacher?" "Well," deliberated Peter, gravely, "it's a matter of principle with me, Parson Ranson.
Whyn't he TELL me, the dang little fool?" "He DID!" Mrs. Adams sobbed. "He DID tell you, and you wouldn't GIVE it to him." "He DID, did he?" Adams shouted at her. "What he begged me for was money to run away with! He never dreamed of putting back what he took. What the dangnation you talking about accusing me!" "He NEEDED it," she said. "He needed it to run away with!
"You always was a glad boy, Joey," his mother said ruefully. "Well, you wouldn't thought so if you seen me over at our house. It seemed like there was somebody dead; I dasn't hardly go in, it was so dark and still. Whyn't you there? Didn't pop come home?" "Yes, but he had to go back to the Cross Roads; he's got work there all the fall." "Well! We do seem to be gittin' along!" He laughed again.
Several times the kitchen was filled and emptied, and ever was the crowd unsteadier. Soon even Raines's influence was of no avail, and the bottle was passed openly from guest to guest. "Whyn't ye dance?" Clayton felt his arm grasped, and Hicks stood swaying before him. "Whyn't ye dance?" he repeated. " Can't ye dance? Mebbe ye air too good-like Sherd.
At the sight one of the spectators made a plea in Pat's behalf. "Whyn't you take him outside?" he demanded. "Into the open. This ain't no place to bust a horse like him! That horse needs air! Get him out into about three-quarters of these United States! Git ginerous! Git ginerous! I hate a stingy man!" Whereupon Helen at last found voice.
Haven't you got any eyes?" "Well, whyn't you say he was 'cross the street in the first place?" Sam returned plaintively. "Besides, he's so little you can't hardly see him." This was, of course, a violent exaggeration, though Master Chitten, not yet eleven years old, was an inch or two short for his age. "He's all dressed up," Sam added. "I guess he must be invited."
"Whyn't ye eat some o' the squir'l, Birt?" his mother asked at the supper table. "Pears-like ter me ez it air cooked toler'ble tasty." Birt could not eat. He soon rose from the table and resumed his chair by the window, and for half an hour no word passed between them. The thunder seemed to roll on the very roof of the cabin, and it trembled beneath the heavy fall of the rain.
Whyn't yo' come on, dawg?" The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and stopped, without even deigning a look at the speaker, who immediately proceeded to take the rails down, talking meanwhile: "Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s'pose! Yo' so sp'ilt yo' kyahn hardly walk. Jes' ez able to git over it as I is!
And say! de joke's on dat croaker, ain't it? I looked t'rough the window and see him playin' tag on dat Dago kid's solar plexus." "You son of a tinker," growled the cattleman, "whyn't you talk up and say the doctor never examined you?" "Ah g'wan!" said McGuire, with a flash of his old asperity, "nobody can't bluff me. You never ast me.
"Then I don't want any. Take it away, Martha," and he pushed aside the spoon. "Do with Anne wath here," lisped Arthur. "I got her thweater yolled up smooth to keep for her. Whyn't she come?" No one could tell him. Miss Farlow wished Miss Drayton, according to Mr. Mayo's request, to take charge of the child's jewels. But Miss Drayton refused. "You keep them, please," she urged.
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