"You, Jimmy Garner, an' you, too, William Hill, yuh little
imps o' Satan, what you doin' in my house? didn't yo' mammy
tell you not to tamper wid me no mo'? Git up an' come here an'
lemme git my co'set off o' yuh."
Angry as she was she could not keep from laughing at the
sight they presented, as, with no gentle hand, she unclasped
the hooks and released their imprisoned bodies.
"Billy all time--" began Jimmy.
"Billy all time nothin," said Sarah Jane, "'tain't no use
fo' to try to lay dis-here co'set business onto Billy; both
o' yuh is ekally in it. An' me a-aimin' fo' to go to three
fun'els dis week an' a baptizin' on Sunday. S'pose y' all'd
bruck one o' de splints, how'd I look a-presidin' at a
fun'el 'thout nare co'set on, an' me shape' like what I is?"
"Who's dead, Sarah Jane?" asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the
torrent of her wrath.
"Sis' Mary Ellen's las' husban', Brudder Littlejohn--dat 's
a-who," she replied, somewhat mollified at his interest.
"When did he die?"--Jimmy pursued his advantage.
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