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"What you mean?" demanded Getz, impatient of all this mystery. "It's the daughter of one of this here Board that we're wotin' fur!" Mr. Getz's eyes moved about the table. "Why, none of yous ain't got a growed-up daughter that's been to school long enough to get a certificate." "It seems there's ways of gettin' a certificate without goin' to school.
They'll be wotin' you out of your job any minute now. And then your pop'll be comin' over here to fetch you along home! Oh! If he wasn't your pop I c'd say somethin' real perfane about him." Tillie drew a long breath; but she did not speak. She could not. It seemed to her that she had come to the end of everything.
"Wen 'lection time 'rived, he com'd home bringing some flour an' meat; an' he says ter Aunt Polly, 'Ole woman, I got dis fer de wote. She jis' picked up dat meat an' flour an' sent it sailin' outer doors, an' den com'd back an' gib him a good tongue-lashin'. 'Oder people, she said, 'a wotin' ter lib good, an' you a sellin' yore wote!
Fourteen women; I wish you could ha' heard 'em, Sammy. There they was, a-passin' resolutions, and wotin' supplies, and all sorts o' games.
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