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"She's gwine have de room 'crost from Miss Liz, an' fresh boo-kays eve'y day. We'se comin' over 'foh long, too; fer de doctor say he ain' gwine take no moh skin offen her." Then suddenly she exclaimed: "What, in de land sake, is de matter wid you-all's pants?" But he had turned, and in deep thought started across the grass to the big house, leaving her in open-mouthed amazement.
"He's powerful gaunted up, yo' war-horse, Bud." "Mighty strength'nin' ploughin' is, but not stimmerlatin'!" "High-strung animal, that clay-bank o' Pink's." Pink's temper was in that state where he enjoyed hugely gibes at his friends' expense, but was in no mood to receive amiably jests directed against himself. "Whar's you-all's horse?" he shouted, in exasperation, to one of his tormentors.
Attainin' wisdom is one thing, an' bein' killed that a-way, is plumb different; an' while I sees no objection to swellin' the general fund of this young person's knowledge, I don't purpose that you-all's goin' to confer no diplomas, an' graduate him into the choir above none with a gun, at one an' the same time.
"How does that happen?" "Mammy's gwine to git married agin, to Mistah Robinson, and she says nobody has a bettah right than me to be maid of honah to her own ma's weddin'. So that's how come she toted us all along to you-all's weddin', so that Sweety and Ca'line and the boys could learn how to act at her and Mistah Robinson's." "When is it to be?" inquired Lloyd. "To-morrow night.
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