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Updated: June 3, 2025
Temple sees no one," I asked. "Dar's one lady come hyar ebery week, er French lady, but she speak English jes' like the Mistis. Dat's my fault," said Lindy, showing a line of white teeth. "Your fault," I exclaimed. "Yassir. When I comed here from Caroliny de Mistis done tole me not ter let er soul in hyah. One day erbout three mont's ergo, dis yer lady come en she des wheedled me ter let her in.
Eugenie, watching at the window across the street, ran to tell her father, who came out on his steps and reviled the van with all the fluency of his French ancestors. Mammy Easter opened the door, and then stood with her arms akimbo, amply filling its place. Her lips protruded, and an expression of defiance hard to describe sat on her honest black face. "Is this Colonel Carvel's house?" "Yassir.
He quit sculling and stood up in the stern of the boat, allowing it to make the distance which separated it from the schooner by its own momentum. "But what did they say?" demanded Locke. "It's Mr. Peth," said Doc, and turning, looked ashore. "He's got the skipper up a tree. Ah tell yo' all that man Peth, he's a danger! Yassir!" He made the boat fast, and scrambled up the ladder and over the side.
You'll pass about twenty-five in the next fifteen minutes, and you'll recognize ours when you see it and if you don't, you can yell down and ask." "Ef it's dat easy, Mars Tom, I reckon we kin do it yassir, I knows we kin." The guide was sure of it, too, and thought that he could learn to stand his watch in a little while. "Jim can learn you the whole thing in a half an hour," Tom said.
Dat jist ain't nothin' at all, 'longside o' what I knows." Tom stared at her, and said: "Why, Roxy, what do you mean?" She rose, and gloomed above him like a Fate. "I means dis en it's de Lord's truth. You ain't no more kin to ole Marse Driscoll den I is! dat's what I means!" and her eyes flamed with triumph. "What?" "Yassir, en dat ain't all!
Although he had carried home a heavy heart, he braced himself to begin his task of keeping the family cheered up. "Off all right!" he announced, in a casual tone, as if he had just sent away the guests of a week. "Splendid train, jolly state-room, porter one of the 'Yassir, yassir' kind. Judge and Mrs. Van Camp were taking the same train as far as Chicago.
Mr. Beecham called another colored boy, who guided Tom to the stable. There he found his horse munching hay, wearily but contentedly. The stableman approached, armed with grooming implements. "That's good," said Tom. "Give him a good grooming, and a blanket. Then, in a half-hour, give him a feed of oats." "Yassir." He slipped a dollar into the negro's hand, and left him beaming. Mr.
"We want our old privileges again. We want to be allowed just to grow up." "Yassir," shrilled one voice above the others, "jist to grow up." The mayor raised himself in his chair and his eyes lit up with surprise at the sight of a well-known black little face at the very end of the second row. "What, Topsy, you here?" he called out. "Haven't you done growing all these sixty years, nearly?"
Yes, I remember now. After the surrender, you took the name of don't prompt me Mitchell, and went to the West to Nebraska." "Yassir, yassir," the old man's face stretched with a delighted grin "dat's him, dat's it. Newbraska. Dat's me Mose Mitchell. Old Uncle Mose Mitchell, dey calls me now. Old mars', your pa, gimme a pah of dem mule colts when I lef' fur to staht me goin' with.
"It's me, Marse Ollie." "You! Malachi!" "Yassir, I'se been a-followin' ye all de mawnin'; I see 'em tryin' to kill ye an' I tried to git to ye. I kin git through yer needn't help me," and he squeezed himself under the raised sash. "Malachi like de snake crawl through anywheres. An' ye ain't hurted?" he asked when he was inside. "De bressed Lord, ain't dat good!
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