“I ’low, ‘Ef you gwine ter git any flowers right roun’ here, you’ll hafter dig in de groun’ atter ’em,’ an’ she say I better be ’tendin’ ter my business, an’ hol’ dat ar filly so she won’t break loose an’ run away. Well, dat sorter brung me ’roun’, kaze I skeerd er hosses anyhow, but I hilt on ter de bridle reins, an’ I kep’ one eye on Miss Rachel, an’ de udder one on de filly. Miss Rachel, she went on thoo’ de woods, sorter hummin’ one er dem ar ol’ time chunes, an’ I foller’d ’long atter de bes’ way I could, kaze I skeer’d dat ar filly gwine ter walk up behine me an’ tromple me. Bimeby, I see somebody gwine ’long thoo de woods wid a gun. I look right good, an’ den I know’d ’twuz Marse Dave Henry Wyche.
“Well suh! you dunner how quare folks is. Miss Rachel she seed ’im ’mos’ time I did, an’ den she stopped and fetched a little squall, des like she didn’t know all de time he wuz gwine ter be dar, an’ den Marse Dave Henry, he stopped like he wuz ’stonished, an’ tuck off his hat like he ain’t seed Miss Rachel in a mont’ er Sundays. Den dey shuck han’s an’ stood dar an’ talked an’ talked. I dunner what dey say, but one time Marse Dave Henry would laugh, an’ look down at his foots, an’ den Miss Rachel, she’d snicker an’ blush. Dey wuz gwine on dat way when I feel de filly pullin’ on de reins, an’ den when I look at ’er, she had her ears sot forrerd, like she wuz lis’nin’ at sump’n. Den I hear houn’s a-bayin’, an’ des ’bout dat time I hear de bushes shakin’, an’ somebody come chargin’ ’long hard ez he kin come.
“Dis make de filly jerk back and r’ar, but I swung on ter de bridle rein, an’ holler w’oa, an’ den, bimeby, she w’oad. Well, suh, dat ar somebody chargin’ ’long wuz yo’ Unk A’on dar. De dogs was a-gainin’ on ’im eve’y jump. He seed Miss Rachel an’ Marse Dave Henry stan’in’ dar, an’ he went up ter whar dey wuz, an’ say: ‘You see what I git fer tellin’ you las’ night.’ Marse Dave Henry ’low, ‘I wish ter God I could help you!’ Miss Rachel riz on her tiptoes, an’ stretch out her han’ an’ say, ‘Take dat filly dar an’ ride her home fer me!’ She looked lots bigger dan what Marse Dave Henry did. I tell you now, when you git de Abercrombie blood stirred up you better go off som’rs twel it cool off.
“Well, Unk A’on dar, he fetched a jump er two an’ jerked de reins out’n my han’, an’ lipt on de filly’s back—behine de side-saddle, now, mind you—an’ hit her wid his heels a time er two, an’ wuz done gone ’fo’ I could git up offin’ de groun’ whar I fell at. Den Marse Dave Henry flung his gun ’cross his lef’ arm an’ put some fresh caps on it, an’ dar he hilt it.
“Bimeby, here come de dogs. Dey sailed ’roun’, an’ sailed ’roun’, but dey couldn’t go no fudder. Den here come dat ol’ Mr. Gossett. I hope he’ll go ter heaven, but I never shill b’lieve it twel I see ’im dar. He come a-follerin’ long atter de dogs. He rid up an’ tuck off his hat when he see Miss Rachel. But na’er one un um do like dey know he’s a-livin’. Miss Rachel she look at Marse Dave Henry, an’ Marse Dave Henry, he look right straight at ol’ Mr. Gossett. He sot dar on his hoss an’ look at um, an’ thump de pummel er his saddle like he studyin’ ’bout sump’n ’way off yon’er—an’ den he spied me. He lif’ his hat agin, like he tellin’ um good-by, an’ den he rid up by me. He say, ‘Gal, is you seed any nigger man runnin’ ’long by here?’ I look at Miss Rachel, an’ she drapt her eyeleds. I say, ‘Yasser.’ He say, ‘Which away wuz he gwine?’ I look at Miss Rachel, an’ she thow her eyes over ter de lef’, an’ I pint dat way an’ ’low, ‘Cross yon’er.’ He sot dar, dat ar white man did, an’ look at me n’ thump de pummel er his saddle, en den he broke out in a big laugh an’ rid on. I tell you now, ol’ Nick wa’n’t no sharper dan dat ar white man.
“Marse Dave Henry made a motion like he wuz gwine ter foller on atter ol’ Mr. Gossett, but Miss Rachel, she laid her han’ on his arm, an’ den we all walked back home. De las’ word I say ter Miss Rachel—an’ she’ll tell you so herse’f—wuz, ‘I tol’ you you wa’n’t huntin’ no flowers;’ an’ she ’low, ‘How kin anybody hunt flowers when de woods is full er runaway niggers an’ dogs?’ an’ I say, ‘You ain’t call de name er all what de woods wuz full uv;’ an’ she ’low ef I don’t hush up, she’ll be mad wid me all de balance er de week, an’ den I hushed up.”
Jemimy paused, looked all around, and then turned to the children:—
“Don’t you dast ter tell yo’ ma dat I been gwine on wid all dish yer ol’ time foolishness, kaze ef you do, she’ll take me out’n de kitchen an’ sen’ me ter de cotton patch, an’ I’m doin’ mighty well whar I is.”
Then, after telling Drusilla not to be sitting up all night, she went out.