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Updated: May 16, 2025
He shuffled over to her and spreading out the paper put his finger at the place whence the vital spark had fled. "Look, spelled out jest like in a almanic. See fur yo'se'f." Then came her voice, cold and cutting to his hopes: "Oh, I know it's thar well enough. What I mean is it's all made up it's a tale." "A tale? What's that? What do you mean by a tale? Do you mean that it didn't happen?"
"Hosses out thar, but here we go like niggers to a camp-meetin'," she went on. "I'm not goin'." "Oh, do go, Mrs. Starbuck," Mrs. Mayfield pleaded. "No, I won't go a step. I won't be shamed in this way." "Sorry, Margaret," said Jasper. "I 'lowed you'd enjoy yo'se'f, still if you don't want to go thar's no way of compellin' you. Wall, climb up, everybody." Mrs.
Nothing what so heavy Koku not lift!" boasted the giant. "Go on! Lift yo'se'f 'way from heah!" muttered Eradicate as he picked up his dropped spade.
'She liked 'im, an'-I kin walk. 'Yes, sez ole marster, laughin', 'I s'pose you's already done giv' her yo'se'f, an' nex' thing I know you'll be givin' her this plantation and all my niggers.
"Des' let dat ar chicken alont, Miss Chris," she said, skilfully reducing the charge to a single offence. "Des' let dat ar chicken alont. 'Tain' no use yo' rilin' yo'se'f 'bout dat. Hit's done en it's been done. Hit don't becomst de quality ter fluster demse'ves over de gwines on uv er low-lifeted fowl. You des' bresh yo'se'f down an steddy like hit ain' been fool you ef you knowed yo'se'f.
ELISHyah!" he sings out, rocking of his body in a kind of tune, "reveal yo'se'f, reveal yo'se'f an' he'p me NOW! Lawd Gawd ELISHyah, beckon fo' a CHA'iot, yo' cha'iot of FIAH! Lif' me, lif' me lif' me away f'um hyah in er cha'iot o' FIAH!"
"Tell me what?" he managed to say, though a terrible fear was stiffening his lips and throat. She said dully: "They get shot sometimes. You remember yo'se'f what that Sister of Charity said last night. I heard Ailsa cautioning Letty the little nurse, Miss Lynden " "Yes, I know. What else?"
W'y, Sis' Jane Callender done daid an' gone to glory too long 'go fu' to talk erbout." "Then you admit to the court that your name is not Jane Callender?" "Wha's de use o' my 'mittin', don' you know it yo'se'f, suh? Has I got to come hyeah at dis late day an' p'ove my name an' redentify befo' my ol' Miss's own chile? Mas' Bob, I nevah did t'ink you'd ac' dat away.
I ain't no pot-rack, I ain't no rafter, en I ain't no bed-cord, but, please gracious! I'm gwine ter fin' who's in dat house, en I ain't gwine in dar nudder. Dey mo' ways ter fin' out who fell in de mill-pond widout fallin' in yo'se'f.
"I 'lowed you'd git Billy Spinner's, an' hit's as good as new." Uncle Pros set the small article of furniture down gently. "Don't you worry yo'se'f, Laurelly," he said enthusiastically. Pros Passmore, uncle of the sick woman and mainstay of the forlorn little Consadine household, was always full of enthusiasm.
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