We's been hevin' purty hard times,
Sally an' me hez. Nebber did hev much luck, yer know--'cept for
chillen. Yah, yah! An' jes' dar we's hed a trifle more'n we 'zackly
keered about. Might hev spared a few an' got along jest ez well,
'cordin' ter my notion. Den de ole woman's been kinder peaked this
summer, an' some two or free ob de babies hez been right poorly,
an' Sal--wal, she got a leettle fretted, kase yer know we both
wuks purty hard an' don't seem ter git ahead a morsel. So she got
her back up, an' sez she ter me dis mornin': 'Berry,' sez she, 'I
ain't a gwine ter go near cousin Nimbus', I ain't, kase I hain't
got no fine clo'es, ner no chicken-fixing ter take ter de barbecue
nuther.' So she's done stop up ter Bob Mosely's wid de baby, an' I
t'ought I'd jes come down an' spy out de lan' an' see which on us
wuz right. Dat's de fac' truf, Bre'er Nimbus, an' no lyin". Yah,
yah!"
"Sho, sho, Berry," replied Nimbus, reproachfully; "what makes Sally
sech a big fool? She oughter be ashamed ter treat her ole fren's
dat ar way."
"Now yer talkin', Bre'er Nimbus, dat you is! But la sakes! Bre'er
Nimbus, dat ar gal hain't got no pride. Why yer wouldn't b'lieve
hit, but she ain't even 'shamed of Berry--fac'! Yah, yah! What yer
tinks ob dat now?"
"Why, co'se she ain't," said Nimbus. "Don't see how she could be.
Yer always jes dat peart an' jolly dat nobody couldn't git put out
wid yer.
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