hey? We're all great hands for injin bread here, 'specially
Kier. If I don't make a johnny-cake every few days he says to me, says
he, "Mar, why don't you make some injin bread? it seems as if we hadn't
never had none." Melissy, pass the cheese. Kier, see't Mr. Crane has
butter. This 'ere butter's a leetle grain frouzy. I don't want you to
think it's my make, for't ain't. Sam Pendergrass's wife (she 'twas Sally
Smith) she borrowed butter o' me t'other day, and this 'ere's what she
sent back. I wouldn't 'a' had it on if I'd suspected company. How do you
feel to-day, Mr. Crane? Didn't take no cold last night! Well, I'm glad
on't. I was raly afeard you would, the lectur'-room was so turrible hot.
I was eny-most roasted, and I wa'n't dressed wonderful warm nother,--had
on my green silk mankiller, and that ain't very thick. Take a pickle,
Mr. Crane. I'm glad you're a favorite o' pickles. I think pickels a
delightful beveridge,--don't feel as if I could make out a meal without
'em. Once in a while I go visitin' where they don't have none on the
table, and when I git home the fust thing I dew's to dive for the
butt'ry and git a pickle. But husband couldn't eat 'em: they was like
pizen tew him. Melissy never eats 'em nother: she ain't no pickle hand.
Some gals eat pickles to make 'em grow poor, but Melissy hain't no such
foolish notions. I've brung her up so she shouldn't have. Why, I've
heered of gals drinkin' vinegar to thin 'em off and make their skin
delekit. They say Kesier Winkle--Why, Kier, what be you pokin' the sass
at Mr. Crane for? Melissy jest helped him. I heered Carline Gallup say
how't Kesier Winkle--Why, Kier, what do you mean by offerin' the cold
pork to Mr. Crane? jest as if he wanted pork for his tea! You see,
Kier's been over to the Holler to-day on bizness with old Uncle Dawson,
and he come hum with quite an appertite: says to me, says he, "Mar, dew
set on some cold pork and 'taters, for I'm as hungry as a bear." Lemme
fill up your cup, Mr. Crane. Melissy, bring on that are pie: I guess
it's warm by this time. There, I don't think anybody'd say that punkin
was burnt a-stewin! Take another pickle, Mr. Crane. Oh, I was a-gwine to
tell what Carline Gallup said about Kesier Winkle. Carline Gallup was a
manty-maker--What, Kier? ruther apt to talk? well, I know she was; but
then she used to be sewin' 't old Winkle's about half the time, and she
know'd purty well what went on there: yes, I know sewin'-gals is
giner