I sed, “Thank yer, Becky. Don't yer come no more ter tend ter me. I 'low you's got a plenty ter do 'out'n a-doin' thet.”
Yer see, I didn't want ter be pestered with her fixin', yit she was so obleegin' ter everybody I didn't want ter 'fend her by axin' her ter stay ter hum. Waal, when I went in an' seed how piert things looked, I jes' wished I'd a-kep' my pipe in my mouth 'stead uv a-jawin' her. Spite uv my sayin' time an' ag'in fer her ter rest when her own work war done, she kep' a-comin'. I 'lowed she seed how much I enjoyed havin' things liken white folks lived in the house.
I 'low she war jes' ez bright an' happy thet year ez enny woman in the cove ez hed a plenty.
An' summer an' winter she 'peared ter be always a-workin'.
Waal in th' middle uv March leetle Jim kem, and I reckon thar warn't no two happier people in th' world. They war proud uv thet baby, an' no mistake.
The fust time I seed Becky arter it war born, she pulled a leetle hand out'n from under th' kiver an' sez:
“Uncle Duke, some day thet leetle han'll chop wood fur his mammy.”
Waal, it did'nt look much like handlin' an axe thin.
Thet summer she use ter roll th' baby up in her daddie's ole army blanket an' take it with her berry pickin' an' peddlin' an' everywhars; it 'peared like she didn't think its weight nothin', un' she'd go 'long th' road talkin' ter it like ez ef a baby four months ole knowed ennythin'. With th' money from her berries she bought th' winter clothes—mostely things fur th' baby an' flannel shirts fur her man—'peared like she thought th' cold wouldn't tech her.
It war th' last uv th' next June thet th' twins war born. This time Becky didn't seem ter git 'long so piert—jes' lay still an' pale like, an' a lookin' at the baby gals sad an' pityin'. I reckon she war a wonderin' whar th' warm winter clothes they'd need by' an' by' war ter be got from. It warn't in reason ter 'spose a woman could tote two babies an' do much at pickin' berries.