“Den she put huh han’s un’er de ap’on strings ’roun’ huh ’squisit’ waise—so! ’Cose I knewed what dat me’nt, so I tuck uh good tase ub dem big sweet lips ub huh’n. Den she try ter look like she ’fended, an’ say, ‘Go ’way, Juba; you al’ays wan’ ter be pus-nal.’ Den she skip ’long ter de dairy, an’ huh feet tech de groun’ jes’ ez sorf an’ lite ez uh ’possum’s. Bimeby she cum back wid huh ahms full ub uh gre’t big crock ub clabba, all kivvered ober wid brown sugah. Den I hilt huh an’ kiss’d huh sho’ nuff, mo’n six er seben times. I’d uh kiss huh six er seben hun’erd times, but I heahd Miss Henrietta cummin’ ter see boutin some ginger cakes she cookin’ in de stobe. I wuz sut’ny glad to heah huh, tu, kase I specks Susan wud uh scolded me pow’ful. Dunno tho’; kase when Miss Henrietta cum tippin’ in so sorf dat huh little feets wudn’ uh mash uh rose ef’n de kitchen flo’ bin kivvered wid ’em, Susan she wuz uh singin’, ‘Dar is uh happy lan’ fa’, fa’ erway,’ same ez uh martingale. How-some-ebba, she mus’ uh bin uh little ’fused, kase she cummenc’ ter stir dat clabba—when I heah Miss Henrietta an’ breck uh ’way—same ez hit wuz eggs, butta, cawn meal an’ butta milk, gittin’ stirred fuh johnny-cake. I’s teckin dis bag futto carry what I’s gwine ter buy huh. I wudn’ teck uh kyart-load ub mus’rat hides fuh dat gal’s lub! An’ ef’n Mage Rudd is got ’em, I’s gwine ter buy harf peck ub dat sweet can’y dat’s got vusses, some ammons, resins, dates an’ apples—’nuff futto fill dis bag. Den fuh mehsef I wan’ ter git uh mouf orgin, two mo’ juice-hyarps, an’ wid de res’ ub de money I’s gwine ter see ef’n I kyant buy uh new par ub pants, yaller wid black stripes, an’ uh fiddle.” “You better buy sompin’ dat will meck money.” “What’s dat?” “Why, some ub dem new kine ub steel traps, ’sted ub wasein’ yo’ money on can’y, resins, an’ sich like fuh dat gal Susan futto eat wid Mrs. Rodgers’ Jerry. Juba, you sut’ny mus’ t’ink ’tain’ no trubble ter ketch mus’rats an’ skin ’em, de way you wase yo’ money; mo’n dat, I wants ter borry two dollars fum you mehsef tell I sell meh mus’rat hides. Now, what you wan’ wid two par yellow pants’ Dey ve’y putty, but one par nuff fuh dis summer, dat’s harf gone.”