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Updated: June 6, 2025
I turned my back to her as I sat on the ground; and she took me by the shoulders, pulled me down so that my head was lying in her lap, and began smoothing my hair back from my forehead with a very caressing touch. "Well," said she, "we wun't spoil our day by talkin' of my troubles. This place here is heaven, to me, so quiet, so clean, so good! Le's not spoil it."
"Whoy whoy, zummers over there a bit yon, zure"; and he waved his hand about in a way that pointed to nowhere at all. "When will he be back?" asked Nick, desperately. "Be ba-ack?" drawled the workman, slowly taking up his saw again; "back whur? here? Whoy, a wun't pla-ay here no mo-ore avore next Martlemas." Martinmas? That was almost mid-November. It was now but middle May.
Then Morris, again using the poker, pointed upwards, showing that the Darvels were still in their allotted abode upstairs. "You're early out, Muster Crawley," said Morris, and then he went on with his fire. "Drat the sticks, if they bean't as wet as the old 'un hisself. Get up, old woman, and do you do it, for I can't. They wun't kindle for me, nohow."
They claim they was married the last time he was back there, an' he brought her here. I wun't work with her. I wun't demean myself into a black slave . But tell me, Jake," coming over and sitting by me, "how you're gittin' along. Off here we don't hear no news from folks over to the Centre at all. We go to the new railroad, an' never see any one from over there ."
"Cormorant more likely, I should say." "Noh, I wun't. I don' like corm'rants. They stink. Mebbe I'll be a hawk," as his eye fell on one, like a brown leaf nailed against the blue sky. "Did ee hear White Horse last night?" "I did hear a horse in the night, Johnnie, but I couldn't swear that he was a white one." "Didn' git up an' look out?" disappointedly. "No, I didn't.
"Und who might own dese farms, all oop and down der coontry, dat I sees?" "As the law now stands, Littlepage owns 'em; but if we alter the law enough, he wun't. If we can only work the Legislature up to the stickin' p'int, we shall get all we want. Would you believe it, the man wun't sell a single farm, they say; but wishes to keep every one on 'em for himself!
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