Gra'mammy 'ain't had 'er none ter-day."
"Ya'as, 'm, in er minit. Run, Susan Jane, 'n' fetch er cloth ter wipe 'er
face 'n' han's; they're that stuck up wi' merlasses, ter say nothin' o'
dirt. Therey, therey, now! Mammy's gal don't want ter hev 'er face washed?
Hu! tu! tu! Thaney mustn't cry so. Where's Jeff? Here, Jeff--here, Jeff!
Ole bugger-man, come down the chimbly 'n' ketch this bad gal. You'd better
hush. I tell yer he's er-comin'. Here, Susan Jane, take th' cloth. There,
gra'mammy; there's jest es sweet er little gal es ye'd find in er dog's
age." And the old lady at once cuddled the little one in her arms, swinging
back and forth in her home-made rocker, and crooning an old-time baby song.
"Here, Susan Jane, han' me my knittin' from th' table, 'n' go 'n' tell Jim
ter pitch in some pine knots 'n' make er light in here, 'n' be quick erbout
it"; and Mother Tyler settled herself in another home-made rocker and began
to knit rapidly.
This was the night-work of the female portion of the family, and numerous
stockings of various colors and in various stages of progress were stuck
about the walls of the room, which boasted neither ceiling nor lath and
plaster, making convenient receptacles between the posts and
weather-boarding for knitting-work, turkey-tail fans, bunches of herbs for
drying, etc.
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