Aun' Sheba still laughed to herself, and remarked, "Unc., s'pose you try
Missy Ella's cure?"
"Wot she know 'bout it?" growled Uncle Sheba, with an injured aspect. "Wot de use ob sawin' wood all day wen de town hot 'nuff now to roas' lobsters?"
"Dat min's me, Unc. Why don' you took ter some sittin' wuck like fishin' in de harbor? You mought catch a lobster, or some oder fish."
"De fish an' me 'ud bof be briled in dis yere sun 'fore we got home."
"Bar, Unc., you wouldn't go to Heben 'less you was toted."
"Ob cose not. Doan de Bible say de angels gwine ter tote us?"
"Well, I s'pose dey is.—Ef a body ony know'd weder it ud be up or down."
"Dar now, Aun' Sheba, wot fei you talk so se'rus in Augst? Nex' winter we'se gwine ter hab a refreshin' from on high."
"P'raps you won' lib till nex' winter, Unc."
Uncle Sheba began to hitch uneasily, and remarked, "I doan see no use ob sech oncomf'ble talk in de restin' time ob de yeah."