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Updated: June 26, 2025
I ain't gwine pay no 'tention ter none o' y' all no mo' now tell I git yo' supper ready. Po' little Brindle! Stan' so still, an' ain't say a word. I'm a-fixin' yo' feed now, honey yas, I is! I allus mixes yo's fust, caze I know you nuver gits in till de las' one an' some o' de rest o' de greedies mos' gin'ally eats it up fo' you gits it. She's a Scriptu'al cow, Brindle is she so meek.
"Three-four licks on the oars up theh, and down yeah yo' save pullin' yo' livin' daylights out, to keep from goin' onto a sandbar or into a dryin'-up chute." "How's that?" Rasba cocked his ear. "Say hit oveh slow!" "Why, if yo's into the set of the current up theh, hit ain't strong; yo' jes' give two-three licks an' yo' send out clear.
Ah gotter sit somewheres." "Ouch! What fool put rye-straw in here?" "Powerful penetratin', ain' hit?" "Now, look here, that dog's gotter run with the rest. They ain' no room for him in this wagon." "Cain' you-all make them horses o' yo's git along a little mo' lively, Alf? Mr. Baron'll 'a' cleaned the mountain o' 'possums befo' we git there."
"But exhumin' my subjec', Mr. March, thass anotheh thing the scripters evince that ev'y man shall be judge' by his axe. Yass, seh, faw of co'se ev'y man got his axe to grime. I got mine. You got yo's, ain't you? Well, o' co'se. I respec' you faw it! Yass, seh; but right there the question arise, is it a public axe? An' if so, is it a good one? aw is it a private axe? aw is it both?
I fear Shashai will never forget his colt tricks," and Shashai's mistress wagged her pretty head doubtfully. "Shas'ee's all right, Miss Peggy. Don' yo' go fer ter 'line him. When I sees yo' two a kitin' way over de fiel's an' de fences, I says ter ma sef, Gawd-a-mighty, Je'ome, yo's got one pintedly hansome yo'ng mistess AN' she kin ride for fair."
The kitchen was a large comfortable place. A bright fire was burning in the range. Shining pans hung on the wall, and Aunt Esmerelda, large, fat, and friendly, with a white handkerchief tied over her head, moved slowly among them. Aunt Esmerelda put her hands on her hips and looked down at Hortense. "Yo's the spittin' image of yo' ma, honey," said Aunt Esmerelda. "Does yo' like ginger cookies?"
"'Pears like yo's makin' things fine enough for a weddin'," growled Mancy. "Well, now, look here, last night you thought the things I had for my evening company were too plain, and now you're grumbling because they're too fancy." "Laws, honey, can't you see no diffunce 'tween plain bread and butter and a lot of pernicketty gimcracks that never turns out right nohow?"
They were very lazy horses, and it seemed a long time before they drew up at the station and Uncle Jonah climbed painfully out. Uncle Jonah was very old and black, and his hair was white and kinky. "Yo's Miss Hortense, isn't yo'?" he asked. "I come fo' to git yo'. I'se kinda' late 'cause Tom an' Jerry, dey jes' sa'ntered along."
Had he not been so angry he must have roared at sight of his comical self when the dressing was completed. "Now yo'll do, Ah reckons." With that, the mulatto guide of the night before threw down one end of an inch rope. "Ah reckon yo's sailor ernuff to dim' dat. Come right erlong, 'less yo' wants de dawgs ter jump down dar." "But they'll tackle me if I come up," objected Jack Benson.
I never did see thet boys was either useful enough, or ornamental enough, to make such a fuss over 'em!" Uncle Rufus, hovering on the outskirts of the family party, grinned hugely upon Neale O'Neil. "Yo' is sho' 'nuff too good a w'ite boy tuh be made tuh dance an' frolic in no circus show naw-zer! I's moughty glad yo's got yo' freedom." Neale, too, was glad.
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