“Well, suh, I sot dar some little time, but eve’ything wuz so still in de house, bein’s Marse Tumlin done gone down town, dat I crope back an’ crope in fer ter see what Miss Vallie doin’. Well, suh, she wuz cryin’—settin’ dar cryin’. I ’low, ‘Honey, is I say anything fer ter hurt yo’ feelin’s?’ She blubber’ out, ‘You know you ain’t!’ an’ den she cry good-fashion.
“Des ’bout dat time, who should come in but Marse Tumlin. He look at Miss Vallie an’ den he look at me. He say, ‘Valentine, what de matter?’ I say, ‘It’s me! I’m de one! I made ’er cry. I done sump’n ter hurt ’er feelin’s.’ She ’low, ‘’Tain’t so, an’ you know it. I’m des cryin’ bekaze you too good ter me.’
“She wuz cryin’—settin’ dar cryin’.”
“Well, suh, I had ter git out er dar fer ter keep fum chokin’. Marse Tumlin foller me out, an’ right here on de porch, he ’low, ‘Minervy Ann, nex’ time don’t be so dam good to ’er.’ I wuz doin’ some snifflin’ myse’f ’bout dat time, an’ I ain’t keerin’ what I say, so I stop an’ flung back at ’im, ‘I’ll be des ez dam good ter ’er ez I please—I’m free!’ Well, suh, stidder hittin’ me, Marse Tumlin bust out laughin’, an’ long atter dat he’d laugh eve’y time he look at me, des like sump’n wuz ticklin’ ’im mighty nigh ter death.
“I ’speck he must er tol’ ’bout dat cussin’ part, bekaze folks ’roun’ here done got de idee dat I’m a sassy an’ bad-tempered ’oman. Ef I had ter work fer my livin’, suh, I boun’ you I’d be a long time findin’ a place. Atter dat, Hamp, he got in de Legislatur’, an’ it sho wuz a money-makin’ place. Den we had eve’ything we wanted, an’ mo’ too, but bimeby de Legislatur’ gun out, an’ den dar we wuz, flat ez flounders, an’ de white folks don’t want ter hire Hamp des kaze he been ter de Legislatur’; but he got back in de liberty stable atter so long a time. Yit ’twan’t what you may call livin’.
“All dat time, I hear Marse Tumlin talkin’ ter Miss Vallie ’bout what he call his wil’ lan’. He say he got two thousan’ acres down dar in de wire-grass, an’ ef he kin sell it, he be mighty glad ter do so. Well, suh, one day, long to’rds night, a two-hoss waggin driv’ in at de side gate an’ come in de back-yard. Ol’ Ben Sadler wuz drivin’, an’ he ’low, ‘Heyo, Minervy Ann, whar you want deze goods drapped at?’ I say, ‘Hello yo’se’f, ef you wanter hello. What you got dar, an’ who do it b’long ter?’ He ’low, ‘Hit’s goods fer Major Tumlin Perdue, an’ whar does you want um drapped at?’ Well, suh, I ain’t know what ter say, but I run’d an’ ax’d Miss Vallie, an’ she say put um out anywheres ’roun’ dar, kaze she dunner nothin’ ’bout um. So ol’ Ben Sadler, he put um out, an’ when I come ter look at um, dey wuz a bairl er sump’n, an’ a kaig er sump’n, an’ a box er sump’n. De bairl shuck like it mought be ’lasses, an’ de kaig shuck like it mought be dram, an’ de box hefted like it mought be terbarker. An’, sho’ ’nuff, dat what dey wuz—a bairl er sorghum syr’p, an’ a kaig er peach brandy, an’ a box er plug terbarker.
“Here come a nigger boy leadin’ a bob-tail hoss.”
“I say right den, an’ Miss Vallie’ll tell you de same, dat Marse Tumlin done gone an’ swap off all his wil’ lan’, but Miss Vallie, she say no; he won’t never think er sech a thing; but, bless yo’ soul, suh, she wan’t nothin’ but a school-gal, you may say, an’ she ain’t know no mo’ ’bout men folks dan what a weasel do. An den, right ’pon top er dat, here come a nigger boy leadin’ a bob-tail hoss. When I see dat, I dez good ez know’d dat de wil’ lan’ done been swap off, bekaze Marse Tumlin ain’t got nothin’ fer ter buy all dem things wid, an’ I tell you right now, suh, I wuz rank mad, kaze what we want wid any ol’ bob-tail hoss? De sorghum mought do, an’ de dram kin be put up wid, an’ de terbarker got some comfort in it, but what de name er goodness we gwine ter do wid dat ol’ hoss, when we ain’t got hardly ’nuff vittles fer ter feed ourse’f wid? Dat what I ax Miss Vallie, an’ she say right pine-blank she dunno.