“Tollable; g’long!”
The cow was too wild to let her mistress come near so she stood and admired her afar off:
“Looks like the millenyum has done come,” she said, “and I’m mighty glad I’ve lived to see it.”
“Well what about it!” exclaimed Aunt Dicey the next Sunday, pointing to her dingy little wooden clock, “she’s done stopped—a hour ago for all I know. We’ll be late to church an’ I wouldn’t miss what Preacher Carr has got to say this mornin’—not for a pretty. Why, Zeb’lon, they’re a-sayin’ that ole man Sumter’s sure ’nough got religion!”
“You say he has!” Zeb’s tone was as wrathy as it was incredulous.
“Sure ’nough; Mis’ Campbell says he’s a-restorin’ fourfold!”
“Thar’s the old sinner now,” grumbled Zeb; “talk about good folks and they’re plumb sure to heave into sight.”
“Well, what about it? He’s a-drivin’ up!”
“Hullo in there! Zeb’lon!”