“Dey rocked on, dey did,” said Uncle Remus, scratching his head with some earnestness, “en it seem like dey wuz havin’ a mighty good time; but one day w’en dish yer nigger man wuz gone ter town atter some vittles, the nigger ’oman she ’gun ter git fretted. Co’se, honey, you dunner how de wimmen folks goes on, but I boun’ you’ll know ’fo’ you gits ez ole en ez crippled up in de j’ints ez w’at I is. Well, dish yer nigger ’oman, she ’gun ter fret en ter worry, en bimeby she got right down mad.”
“But what did she get mad about, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked.
“Well, sir,” said the old man condescendingly, “I’ll up en tell you. She wuz des like yuther wimmen folks, en she got fretted kase de days wuz long en de wedder hot. She got mad en she stayed mad. Eve’y time she walked ’cross de flo’ de dishes ud rattle in de cubberd, en de mo’ she’d fix um de wuss dey’d rattle. Co’se, dis make ’er lots madder dan w’at she wuz at fust, en bimeby she tuck ’n holler out:
“‘W’at make you rattle?’
“Dishes dey keep on a-rattlin’.
“‘What make you rattle so? I ain’t gwine ter have no rattlin’ ’roun’ yer!’
“Dishes dey keep on a-rattlin’ en a-rattlin’. De ’oman she holler out:
“‘Who you rattlin’ at? I ’m de mistiss er dis house. I ain’t gwine ter have none er yo’ rattlin’ ’roun’ yer!’
“Dishes dey rattle en rattle. De ’oman, she holler out:
“‘Stop dat rattlin’. I ain’t gwine ter have you sassin’ back at me dat way. I ’m de mistiss er dis house!’