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Updated: June 6, 2025
"I don't want to," she said. "I like to wait on table better." "Then why do you change?" said I. "Mr. Gowdy ," began Ma Fewkes, but was interrupted by her daughter, who talked on until her mother was switched off from her explanation. "I wun't work with niggers!" said Rowena. "That Pinck has brought a yellow girl here from Dubuque, and she's goin' to wait on the table as she did in Dubuque.
"She wun't budge!" he cried, his face crimson with honest effort. "Seems she's grow'd in loike." "Fool!" he cried. "Lend a hand with the boom here! Shove, boy, shove! Now on to the main-brace! No, fool, no! Here on to this! Now all together heave! heave! heave!" The great sail rose, groaning terribly. Heaven send the smugglers hadn't heard! But they had. So much a far scream told them.
"Hope to God," says I to myzell, "poor Tom wun't coom here to-day: arl up with her, if 'a doeth: and who be there to suckzade 'un?" Mark me now, all these charps was good to shutt 'un, as her coom crass the watter; the watter be waide enow there and stony, but no deeper than my knee-place.
"'Halloa, Jack! I ses, 'no more o' that. "'No, he says, 'there's no more; it's all gone. "'Stop a bit," says I; 'that wun't do, nuther. "'That wun't do? he says.
She can parley-voo a good 'un and foot it, as it goes; been in France a couple of year. I prefer the singin' of 't to the talkin' of 't. Come, Luce! toon up eh? Ye wun't? That song abort the Viffendeer a female" Farmer Blaize volunteered the translation of the title "who wears the you guess what! and marches along with the French sojers: a pretty brazen bit o' goods, I sh'd fancy."
"If thou hast eyes the Mayor's show is free." "Oh, feckins, wun't it be fine?" gaped Hodge. "Be it a tailors' show, Nick, wi' Herod the King, and a rope for to hang Judas? An' wull they set the world afire wi' a torch, an' make the earth quake fearful wi' a barrel full o' stones?
"And, any way, he got copped di'n't he? or he'd not of been in prison, so there!" "He di'n't get copped fust go. It was jus' a sorter mistake, he said. He said it wun't happen again. He's a jolly good stealer. The cops said he was and they oughter know." "Well," said William changing the conversation, "what d'you want for Christmas?"
In a curious manner his voice had changed. It sounded like that of a man in the mountains, where he had been born and raised. This thought flashed into Deborah's mind and her wide resolute mouth set hard. It would be very difficult. "I'm afraid this won't do, father dear. Whether you give your consent or not " "Wun't, wun't it! You wait and see if it wun't!" Deborah came close to him.
Which do you love most?" "Me?" said William. "I like shootin' and playin' Red Injuns." "Yes, yes," said Uncle George impatiently, "but those aren't studies, William. You must aim at being gentle." "It's not much good bein' gentle when you're playin' Red Injuns," said William stoutly. "A gentle Red Injun wun't get much done." "Ah, but why play Red Indians?" said Uncle George. "A nasty rough game.
Suckin' I mean helpin' people an' fightin' an' all that. I wun't mind doin' it an' you could be my squire." "Yes," said Ginger slowly, "I'd thought of doin' it, but I'd thought of you bein' the squire." "Well," said William after a pause, "let's be squires in turn. You first," he added hastily. "Wot'll you give me if I'm first?" said Ginger, displaying again the base commercialism of his age.
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