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An' the boys can't be expected to go a-tiptoe and talk prunes an' prisms, all along o' a little yaller-haired kid what's come to brighten up the old camp fer us. That wouldn't be sense! But all we've got to mind is jest this nothin' vile! That's all, boys. We'll worry along without that!" When the Boss spoke, he liked to explain himself rather fully. When he ceased, no one had a word to say.
You, or some power above or below, tuck Jasper frum me an' left that yaller-haired sting fer me to brood over day an' night, but the same ur wuss mustn't come to Sally, kase she don't deserve it she's helpless! Oh, Lord, have mercy have mercy mercy mercy!" She rose to her feet, and without undressing threw herself on the bed.
"What, that yaller-haired, white-face chit who went for you?" rejoined Janet. "No such thing; but tell me now of your marm. How sick is she, and what of the little boy? Is he much deformed?" "Come in here," said Maude, leading the way into the parlor, and drawing a chair close to Janet, she told all she deemed it necessary to tell.
When Uncle Bart Cole had remarked that Mis' Grant had a little of everything in the way of baby-stock now, black, red, an' yaller-haired, dark and light complected, fat an' lean, tall an' short, twins an' singles, Jed Morrill had observed dryly: "Yes, Mis' Grant kind o' reminds me of charity." "How's that?" inquired Uncle Bart. "She beareth all things," chuckled Jed.
"He'll be here this afternoon. Nigger Mike's bringin' him over from the railroad. He's a guest." "Oh!" "Yep! He's intercollegit champeen of Yale." "Yale?" repeated the near-sighted man. "Don't know's I ever been there. Much of a town?" "I ain't never travelled East myself, but Miss Jean and the little yaller-haired girl say he's the fastest man in the world.
"A fine, hard crew you are," he said sarcastically at last. "A great bunch of long riders, lettin' a slip of a yaller-haired girl make fools of you. You over there you, Shorty Rhinehart, you'd cut the throat of a man that looked crosswise at the Cumberland girl, wouldn't you? An' you, Purvis, you're aching to get at me, ain't you? An' you're still thinkin' of them blue eyes, Jordan?"
One of these blue-eyed, yaller-haired kind, see, with a voice like silk. Speakin' personal, I'm free to admit she's got me stopped." Buck drew so hard on the diminishing butt of his cigarette that he burned his fingers. "Can't do nothin' with her?" he queried. "What you grinnin' about?" said Purvis hotly. "D'you think you'd have any better luck with her?" Buck chuckled.
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