"Ah don't giv' a dam pity hell who dawtah a hav' it—dem n'ah go!"
"But Charlie—don't!"
"Me don' mean fi' insult yo', Sarah, wit' me nasty tongue, but yo' mus' excuse me. But dese pahties dem 'nuf fi' mek Christ hesell bre'k loose."
"But me don't tink it are much—"
"Dem n'ah go—dat a sure t'ing! Could as well put it in yo' pipe an' smoke it! Saht'n fact! Dem tek up wit' too much gwine out orready. Wha' ah mo', dat Miss Persha, dem low-neck dress she ah wear, dem gwine giv' ar cold, too, yo' mahk ah fi'-mee wud."
"Wha' time it hav' let out, Persha?"
"Early, mam."
"Oh, le' de picknee dem go, Charlie, yo' too a'd on de gal chile dem."
"Dat's juss why me don't wan' dem fo' go. Awl yo' go out o' dis house at all howahs o' de night time, like unna is any umans, disregardin' whatevah awdahs dere is. Look at dat Miss Persha, she bin gwine out eve'y night dis week. Wha' she a go so? Wha' she a fine place fi' go so? But no mind; wait till me catch she, yo' wait."
"Dat a fac', Charlie, me hagree wit' yo' dey, me gwine put my foot down once an' far-all 'pon dem trampoosin's."