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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Is the colonel there?" and she indicated what seemed to be an ideal fishing place among the willows. "He was, Miss Viola, but he done gone now." "Gone? Where? Do you mean back to the house?" "No'm. He done gone t' N'York." "New York?" "Yes'm. On de afternoon train. He say he may be back t'night, an' mebby not 'twell mornin'." "But New York-and so suddenly! Why did he go, Shag?"
The horses went to the saddle blocks, selected their saddles, lifted them by the little pommel and carried them to Jess like obedient children. No mother was ever more gratified than Jess. "Now honeys, yo' stan' right whar yo's at twell yo' summons come from over yander.
"But ef ever I does go so crazy es ter wed with a man, thet man'll tek my surname an' our children 'll tek hit too, an' w'ar hit 'twell they dies." Brent had wondered how the Parson and his exhausted companions would, in the short time at their disposal, be able to call out a new force of volunteers.
Then he looked at Nicholas, who was watching the apples spinning in the heat. "De po' white trash ain' set foot inside my do'," he added, "en de leetle gals ain' flirt roun' twell dar wa'nt no qualifyin' der legs f'om der arms." "I don't care!" said Eugenia, looking defiantly at Uncle Ish. "Lor', chile, don't teck on dat way," remonstrated Aunt Verbeny.
An' dey 'low dey mus' hab a jack-o'-lantern or de fun all sp'iled. So dat li'l' black boy whut he name is Mose he done got to fotch a pumpkin from de pumpkin-patch down de hollow. So he step' outen de shanty an' he stan' on de door-step twell he get' he eyes pried open as big as de bottom ob he ma's wash-tub, mostly, an' he say', "Dey ain't no ghosts."
"Because ef thet's hit, Alexander, afore God Almighty I'm plum willin' ter meet him an' fight him fer ye with my bare hands 'twell one of us dies. I hain't none afeared of him, ef so be I'm fightin' fer you an' ef he wins ther fight I'd rather be dead anyhow."
An' he jes cogitate', "Dey ain't no ghosts," an' wish' he goose-pimples don't rise up dat way. An' he jes 'low', "Dey ain't no ghosts," an' wish' he backbone ain't all trembulous wid chills dat way. So he rotch' down, an' he rotch' down, twell he git' a good hold on dat pricklesome stem of dat bestest pumpkin whut in de patch, an' he jes yank' dat stem wid all he might.
An' dey 'low dey mus' hab a jack-o'-lantern or de fun all sp'iled. So dat li'l' black boy whut he name is Mose he done got to fotch a pumpkin from de pumpkin-patch down de hollow. So he step'outen de shanty an' he stan' on de doorstep twell he get' he eyes pried open as big as de bottom ob he ma's wash-tub, mostly, an' he say', "Dey ain't no ghosts."
Hey, dere, you, Tonita, how goes you' beezness? "Pralines, pralines! Holy Father, you give me dat blessin' sho'? Tak' one, I know you lak dat w'ite one. It tas' good, I know, bien. "Pralines, madame? I lak' you' face. What fo' you wear black? You' lil' boy daid? You tak' one, jes' see how it tas'. I had one lil' boy once, he jes' grow 'twell he's big lak' dis, den one day he tak' sick an' die.
I'm going to plant a little orchard here next spring, but the colonel and me, we reckoned this one 'ud be too old by that time for moving, so I thought I'd stick it in now, and see what come out'n it. It's a powerful thrifty chunk of a saplin'." "Yes. I speak for the first peck of apples off'n it. Don't forget. Good-morning." "Hold on a minute, Miss Susan, twell I git my coat.
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