“Who dat? What you want? Oh, Lordy!”
“Wake up, Drusilla,” said Sweetest Susan, “I want to ask you something.”
“Ain’t I ’wake? How kin I be any ’waker when I’m ’wake? Oh, is dat you, honey? I wuz skeer’d ’t was dat lil’ bit er ol’ ’oman. Whar she gone? Las’ time I seed her she wuz des walkin’ ’roun’ here like she wuz gwine ter tromple on me. I laid low, I did.”
Sweetest Susan clasped her hands together and cried: “Oh, wasn’t it a dream, Drusilla? Did it all happen sure enough?”
Drusilla shook her head wildly. “How kin we bofe have de same kind er dream? I seed de ’oman gwine on, en you seed ’er gwine on. Uh-uh! Don’t talk ter me ’bout no dreams.”
The whole matter was settled when Buster John cried out from the next room: “What fuss was that you were making in there last night, squealing and squeaking?”
The matter was soon explained to Buster John, and after breakfast the children went out and sat on the big wood-pile and talked it all over. The boy asked a hundred questions, but still his curiosity was not satisfied.
All this time the birds were singing in the trees and the wood-sawyers sawing in the pine logs. Jo-reeter, jo-reeter, jo-ree! sang the birds. Craik, craik, craik, went the wood-sawyers.
