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As each ewe, finished with, struggled up, helped by a friendly shove, and bolted out dazedly into the pen, I could not help wondering what was passing in her head in the heads of all those unceremoniously treated creatures; and, moving nearer to the postman, I said: "They're really very good, on the whole." He looked at me, I thought, queerly. "Yaas," he answered; "Mr. Molton's the best of them."
The trio were just outside; and when the blue and silver footman, hauling in by his unrelinquished throat that scared bailiff, and followed by the blushing village beauty, stood within the room, Sir John and his half-dozen friends greeted the tableau with united acclamations. "I say, Pypp, that's a devilish fine creature," metaphorically remarked the Honorable Lionel Poynter. "Yaas."
"I want your views on that case, 'The Matter of Ziegler." "Hum! Ha! Got yourself in a mess. Yaas. I remember. Been served yet? Give me the facts." One after another, Jones produced them. During their recital, Dunwoodie twirled his thumbs. At their conclusion, he expressed himself with entire freedom.
"Why didn't you keep on running?" he added with a fiendish laugh, as he leaned over the prostrate body of the Kaffir. "Yaas, why don't yer go on to tell where der two cameels be, to der fools whom found um?" asked the other. "Why don't yer do datch?"
Sarindy was excited. "Yaas, Lawd, dar's sho' gwine ter be doin's this day! What you reckon, Miss Miriam? Dar's er lady from South Callina stayin' cross't de street, 'n' she's got er maid what's got de impidence ob sin! What you reckon dat yaller gal say ter me? She say dat South Callina does de most ob de fightin' 'n' de bes' ob it, too!
"Doright," he ordered, "go back up to that there path and see what them folks wants. If they're strangers let 'em go on. If they're the fellers I think they is, toll 'em along and lose 'em. You'll know where to find me at the factory if I lose you now." "Yaas, sir, Boss," grinned the negro. "Ah'm named Doright."
And the way Pete can iron a b'iled shirt is a wonder. . . . Yaas; he found his job at last; plain and decorative ironin'. Often I've seen Maggy, holdin' up a batch of clo's, with pride just oozin' out of her, and heard her say, 'There ain't a person in these here United States that kin slip a flatiron over dry-goods the way my Pete kin." "Once upon a time," said Mr.
Morris, gathering up his reins. "And, by the way, Grandison, do you expect to make that payment on your place which is due next week?" "Yaas, sah, sartin shuh," said Grandison. "I done tole you I'd do it, Mahs'r Morris, an' I 'tends ter stick ter de truf." "Now, den," said Grandison, in a tone of triumph, when Mr.
Den de fruit ship, dey can' mak' lan', de mans, dey t'reaten an' say t'ings. Dey mak' big fight, yaas. Dere no mo' work on de levee, lak dat. Ever'body jus' walk roun' an' say cuss word, yaas!" "Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" groaned Madame Garcia, rocking her guinea-blue-clad self to and fro. Mr.
Yaas, that's what THEY called it, but we don't go much on fancy names down here. No, the painter didn' 'zactly live there, but it 'mounted to the same thing. Las' summer they was all away, house shet up, painter hangin' round all the time, 's if he looked fur 'em to come back any minnit. Purfessed to be paintin', but I don' see's he did much.
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