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Updated: June 9, 2025
And, on top of that, that he's goin' to ask that a committee be app'inted fur you in other words, that somebody or other shall be named by the court, meanin' me, to take charge of your property and control the spendin' of it frum now on?" "Yes, suh," stated O'Day. "Pete Gafford he set down with me and made hit all clear to me, yestiddy evenin', after they'd done served the papers on me."
I 'members Miss Meeley des' ez well ez 'twuz yestiddy de day Marse Tom brung her home en de niggers stood a-bowin' en axin' howdy at de gate. She wuz all black en white en cold lookin' twell she smiled, en den it wuz des' like er lightwood blaze in 'er eyes." Uncle Ish nodded dreamily.
"Nate," said Birt, at last, speaking with that subacute conviction, so strong yet so ill-defined, which vividly warns the ill-judged and yet cannot stop the tongue constrained by its own folly, "what d'ye s'pose I fund in the woods yestiddy?" The two small eyes, set close together, seemed merged in one, so concentrated was their gaze. Again their expression struck Birt's attention.
"Dunno," responded the same little fellow. "When did he set out?" There was a meditative pause. Then ensued a jumbled bickering. The small boys, the shoats, and the hound seemed to consult together in the endeavor to distinguish "day 'fore yestiddy" from "las' week." The united intellect of the party was inadequate. "Dunno!" the mite of a spokesman at last admitted.
I kin see dat one er yourn wid de little bit er flow'rs all over hit des es plain es ef 'twuz yestiddy." "The waistcoats are all gone now," said Dan gravely, "and so are the shirts. The war is over and you are your own master, Big Abel. You don't belong to me from this time on." Big Abel shook his head grinning.
De Convenshun in Richmon' wuz votin' on hit yestiddy. Marse Stuart gone ter town ter fetch de news ter Arlington." Sam stepped close and searched Ben's face. "What's my ole marster dat set me free gwine ter do?" "Dat's what everybody's axin. He bin prayin' up dar all night." Sam glanced toward the stairway and held his silence for a while. He spoke finally with firm conviction.
"Where's he stayin' at now?" demanded Mammy sharply, although she drew the corner of her apron across her eyes. "He's down to Mars' Nat's at the toll-gate cottage. 'Peahs like it's the natch'el place for him to be. Neithah of 'em's got anybody else, and it's kind a like old times when they was chillun, play in' round the big house togethah. I stopped in to see him yestiddy.
"I aims ter pin this hyar answer on ther door whar I found ther letter at," replied Maggard, crisply, "An' ef hit comes ter gun-battlin' in ther bresh I don't seek ter brag none but ye seed me shoot yestiddy." Rowlett took and slowly read the defiant response which the other had pencilled and a grim smile of approval came to his face: To whoever it consarns.
Only I'd ask you speak brisk because there ain't so much time." "Tell me briefly what you know of that child." "Not such a lot, excepting she's a dangerous lunatic, having been legally adjudged so yestiddy. And her mother's paying for her keep at a high-class place where she can have special treatment and special care instead of letting her be put away in one of the state asylums.
"If I was wantin' to stir up your sympathy, I'd tell you about a leetle feller I seen yestiddy. Mebby I will. He wa'n't no naked heathen, and he didn't have no ring into his nose. He was jest a boy. Uh-huh! Calculate he might 'a' been ten year old. Couldn't walk a step. Suthin' ailed his laigs, and he had to lay around in a chair in one of these here kind of cheap horspittles. Alone he was.
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