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Updated: September 3, 2025
"Don't bother about telling the white folks that I'm here, mammy," he said. "Just give me something to eat. I'm starving." "Yassir, yassir," replied the old woman, "but a kitchen ain't no place for white folks to eat. I'll just run an' tell Mr. Beecham you all is here." She disappeared through the door leading to the back part of the house. Tom decided that it was no time for ceremony.
Without a moment's reflection, Marshall, seizing at random upon the first word that presented itself, said, "How about ratiocination?" The old man started as if he were shot. "Dat's hit!" he exclaimed. "Yassir, dat's hit! How in de kingdom come is you struck it de fust pop? Rasheoshinatiom! I 'clare! Dat's de ve'y word, sho's you born!
Doc was promising to become something of a nuisance. "Yassir," said the steward, and went away to the galley. Trask now gave his complete attention to emptying the bag which should have contained the pistol. He made a careful search. But the pistol was gone and he was sure he had packed it that morning at the hotel, together with two boxes of ammunition.
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.
Yassir, it'd break yo' Aunt Polly's heart to hear you." Tom was astonished. He looked Jim over wondering, and didn't say nothing, and Jim went on: "Mars Tom, who put de people out yonder in St. Louis? De Lord done it. Who put de people here whar we is? De Lord done it. Ain' dey bofe his children? 'Cose dey is. WELL, den! is he gwine to SCRIMINATE 'twixt 'em?" "Scriminate!
He'd made th' gr-reat foreign iditor an' he'd be fine f'r th' job f'r he's best late at night. "Hogan says th' time has come f'r th' subjick races iv th' wurruld to rejooce us fair wans to their own complexion be batin' us black and blue. Up to now 'twas: 'Sam, ye black rascal, tow in thim eggs or I'll throw ye in th' fire. 'Yassir, says Sam. 'Comin', he says.
"Yassir, boss I done seen two o' dem go in dar!" replied a wisp of a negro boy, rolling wide eye-whites in fright, and wedged in among the hulking posse. "Well, this 'un's all I seen!" protested the night watchman, "an' you betcher I looked about mighty keerful ... wot time did you see 'um break in?" turning to the negro child. "Jes' at daylight, boss!" "An' wot was you-all a-doin' down hee-ar?"
Yassir, when I heerd from Miss Sally I done comed here to tek cyar ob her." "How is your mistress?" I asked. "She po'ly, Marse Dave," said Lindy, and paused for adequate words. I took note of this darky who, faithful to a family, had come hither to share her mistress's exile and obscurity. Lindy was spare, energetic, forceful and, I imagined, a discreet guardian indeed for the unfortunate.
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.
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