"Well, sis' Sheba, I 'low it'll be good for you in the long run.
'Troubles is seasonin'. 'Simmons ain't good twel dey er fros'bit,' you
know."
He stole a sidelong glance at her from under his bushy eyebrows, to see
the effect of his remark. She tossed her head defiantly. "I 'low if the
choice was left to the 'simmon or you eithah, brer Billy, you'd both
take the greenness an' the puckah befo' the fros'bite every time." Then
a tone of complaint trembled in her voice.
"I might a needed chastenin' in my youth, I don't 'spute that; but why
should I now, a trim'lin' on the aidge of the tomb, almos', have to put
up with that limb of a John Jay? If my poah Ellen knew what a tawment
her boy is to her ole mammy, I know she couldn't rest easy in her
grave."
"John Jay, he don't mean to be bad," remarked Uncle Billy soothingly.
"It's jus' 'cause he's so young an' onthinkin'. An' aftah all, it ain't
what he _does_. It's mo' like what the white folks say in they church up
on the hill. 'I have lef' undone the things what I ought to 'uv done.
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