"Me" asked Ned, "Ise agwine tu scotch mysef on dis here plank fur a nap, dats what." "Whats yu gwine to do," he asked. "Me," asked Clarissa, "I'm agwine tu slabe fur er nocount free nigger, lak yu, jess lak I has ben doin fur forty yers, dats what." "No count free nigger hay! dats a sin to yu Clarsy, who keeps dat ar pot bilin?" "Bilin" she asked, in disgust, "Sposin yu lift dat ar led often dat pot an see whats a bilin, taint nuffin yu fotched home, I tells yu dat." Ned distrustfully advanced to the fire place and lifted the top from the pot and sank back with a groan, into an old bottomless chair. "What do ail you, Ned?" asked Clarissa, laughingly. "Lors a massy, I wudn't a had yu projjeck wid me dat ar fashun fur a hundred dollars. I wus skert tu ax yu what yu had in dare, und I kep a studdin and a studdin, und I kep tryin to smel sum yerbs or udder ur snuffin an er snuffin an er snuffin, und I kep listenin fur yu to say 'Ned, lift dat bilin pot offen de farr wid dem yurbs und horg meat; hit ar sho dun by dis time', und Bress de Lord, it haint nuffin ceptin er ole kalliker skeert; dat dar mistake is wurf a hundred dollars. Jess as well flung a hundred dollars outen my pocket into de fire, as to gib me dat ar set back." "A hundred dollars," mockingly repeated Clarissa, "How much money has yu had sence de belyun dun fell?" "Me?" asked Ned. "Yes, you, dats who, how many cents yu had most fo yer sence freedum cum in de lan, und yu is as ragged as a settin pefowell." "Nebber mind," said Ned, "I'm ergwine to git forty akers ob dis here plantashun, und maby de grate house flung in, und I'm gwine to git de peertest mule on de hill, und when I flings de whoop und pulls de ribbuns, yu is ergwine to see a yerthshake." "Ugh, Ugh!" ejaculated Clarissa, "I mout, und den agen I moutent. I sees yu a flinging de whoop now, but taint ober nary wun ob ole Mars Jon's mules, dat it taint. I seed a passel ob niggers tother day, jess lak yu, a flingin de whup und a pullin de ribbuns, but twas in de conwic camp jess whar yus agwine to be fo de hoppergrasses wours ole Mar's Jon's crap. Dars yer a stretcht out on dat plank in de brilin sun, lak wun ob dem streked lizzards on de wurm ob de fense, wid nary a moufful ob wittles in de house, high nur lo. Cum here an see who dat is agwine long yander ercross de medder in de hot brilin sun, wid her bonnit skeerts lak de wings ob a white hearon, a floppin backards an furards, haint dat Miss Alice?" Ned raised his hand to shield his eyes from the hot glaring sun as he observed, "Tain't nobody else. Ef dat ar white gal don't hab de tarryfyin feber ur de brownskeeters, den I haint no doctor." "I wunder whar dat ar gal is ergwine to here at twel erclock in de day, und de July flies er farely deefnin de fokeses wid der racket?" asked Clarissa.