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"Where's the old man?" inquired one. "Skipper's taking a watch below, arter the fog; don't yer go knockin' him up now, Joe." "Wait till the mate comes. Thunder, why don't yer wrop somep'n round the kid, you loon?" The big schooner was getting under way again. The mate's voice spoke sharply to the helmsman. "Helm up steady. Nothing off stead-y."
"'Who dat callin' Mingo way out yer? "I lissen en I lissen, but nobody ain't callin'. I year de water sneakin' 'long under de bank, en I year de win' squeezin' en shufflin' 'long thoo de trees, en I year de squinch-owl shiver'n' like he cole, but I ain't year no callin'. Dis make me feel sorter jubous like, but I lay down en wrop up my head.
You don't reckel-member, Colonel; but I had Marsa John's coat, an' I wrop it round Cap'in Loynes when he was ca'aied to his ca'aige. Yes, sah, jes above de knee. Marsa John picked him de fust shot." "I remember now. Yes, you are right. The captain always walked a little lame."
Be certain you take rug enough." "I'll take care of her the best I know how. Expect she's likely rheumatic, but I'll wrop her up till she looks like a Cheyenne squaw when tourist is trying to get a free shoot at her with camera." "Please do. I want her to get a good impression of Wyoming so that she will stay. I don' know about the rheumatism, but you might ask her."
"'No, no! sezee, 'I wouldn' 'spec' ter be 'vited ter de weddin', a common, low-down fiel'-han' lak I is. But I's glad ter heah you en Jeff is gittin' 'long so well. I didn' knowed but w'at he had 'mence' ter be a little ti'ed. "'Ti'ed er me? Dat's rediklus! sez Chloe. 'W'y, dat nigger lubs me so I b'liebe he'd go th'oo fier en water fer me. Dat nigger is des wrop' up in me.
Then one day the doctor he run in and says, 'Time for you to look on the sunlight, Aunt Dally. Keep on them glasses, and wrop a shawl round you, and come with me.
"I thought you would, sir," he answered, with a broad smile; "but I should advise you, sir, if I might be so bold, to wrop up well, as the job may be a longish one, and them graveyards is very damp." Don Juan rang the bell for his valet to fetch him a fur-lined overcoat, and I told the waiter to tell my man Brooks to bring mine.
The millionaire wept happy tears as a climax of his rapture. He swallowed his cigar smoke and had to be pounded on the back by his daughter. "Would you mind getting yore man to wrop it up for me? I'm goin' to have a few pleasant words with I. Bernstein," said Clay with mock mournfulness. "When?" asked Whitford promptly. "Never you mind when, sah. I'm not issuin' any tickets of admission.
Den Miss Sally, she cut me off er slishe wunner deze yer ongodly slishes, big ez yo' hat, an' I sot down on de steps an' wrop myse'f roun' de whole blessid chunk, 'cep'in' de rime." Uncle Remus paused and laid his hand upon his stomach as if feeling for something. "Well, old man, what then?" "Dat's w'at I'm a gittin' at, boss," said Uncle Remus, smiling a feeble smile.
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