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Love wouldn' keep sweet without it was pickled in brine. He! he! he! By George! David Sawney was delighted with the news that Albert Charlton and Smith Westcott had quarreled. "Westcott's run of luck in that quarter's broke. When a feller has a run of luck right along, and they comes a break, 'ts all up with him. Broke luck can't be spliced. It's David Sawney's turn now.
Such was his haste that in passing the corner of the bridge he scarcely observed a knot of children gathered thereby, until 'Beida's voice hailed him and brought him to a halt. "Mr Nanjivell!" "Hey! Is that you, Missy?" Nicky-Nan wheeled half-about. "If you had eyes in your head, you wouldn' be starin' at me," said 'Beida, "but at 'Bert.
Marse Chan he use' to kyar Miss Anne's books fur her ev'y day, an' ef de road wuz muddy or she wuz tired, he use' to tote her; an' 'twarn' hardly a day passed dat he didn' kyar her some'n' to school apples or hick'y nuts, or some'n'. He wouldn' let none o' de chil'en tease her, nudder. Heh!
But Dad chased me out on the road selling kitchenware, and here I'm settled down settled for LIFE not a chance! Oh, who the devil started this funeral talk? How 'bout 'nother lil drink? 'And a-noth-er drink wouldn' do 's 'ny harmmmmmmm." "Yea. Cut the sob-stuff," said W. A. Rogers genially. "You boys know I'm the village songster?
"You don't mind takin' a 'ole 'ouse an' garding, but you wouldn' think o' takin' a blanket! Oh, no! Honest boy you are!" He turned sharp round, and caught Tommy taking a vigorous sight at him. Tommy, courageous as a lion behind anybody's back, dropped on the rug sitting. "We've done the house no harm," said Clare, "and I will not take the blanket. It would be stealing!"
"If what?" "You seem powerful eager to know what'll worry M'lissy." "If ye don' know what worries people ye cain' know how to help 'em." Pink was suavity itself. "If what?" "Ah was goin' to say, specially 'f she knowed it was you-all Ah owed hit to." "Lemme tell ye somethin' right now, Bud: M'lissy wouldn' fin' everybody clever 'nough to len' money to a no-'count feller like you.
"No, ma'am. He's called Porter Sam Porter, an' he works on the coal-barges. But I wouldn' advise you, I reely wouldn', because father's got opinions, an' can't abide visitors. I've 'eard 'im threaten 'em quite vi'lent." "Poor child!" "But I won't 'ave you say anything 'gainst father," said Tilda, taking her up quickly, "for 'e's the best father in the world, if 'twasn' fur the drink."
An' w'en he turnt roun' an' sta'ted back in de woods, he heared de same thing behin' 'im. "'Turnt ter clay! turnt ter clay! turnt ter clay! "Dem wo'ds kep' ringin' in 'is yeahs 'til he fin'lly 'lowed dey wuz boun' ter be so, er e'se dey wouldn' a b'en tol ter 'im, an' dat he had libbed on clay so long an' had eat so much, dat he must 'a' jes nach'ly turnt ter clay!"
Well, one night I creeps to de do' pooty late, en de do' warn't quite shet, en I hear old missus tell de widder she gwyne to sell me down to Orleans, but she didn' want to, but she could git eight hund'd dollars for me, en it 'uz sich a big stack o' money she couldn' resis'. De widder she try to git her to say she wouldn' do it, but I never waited to hear de res'. I lit out mighty quick, I tell you.
It wuz a week er two befo' he could git a chance ter speak ter her ag'in; but fine'ly he cotch her down by de spring one day, en sezee: "'Dilsey, w'at fer yer won' speak ter me, en purten' lack yer doan see me? Dilsey, yer knows me too well fer ter b'lieve I'd steal, er do dis yuther wick'ness de niggers is all layin' ter me, yer KNOWS I wouldn' do dat, Dilsey.
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