"George, you triflin' rascal, come heah," Agnes called to her son.
George entered and smiled at Tesney, who frowned and turned her back upon him.
"Son," continued Agnes, "daughter says no. It's good 'nough. Go, you triflin' rascal, go."
George went.
"Chile," said Agnes, with a great show of kindness, "you is right. You knows dat you is good-blooded stock. Fine stylish white blood runs in yo' veins. You is right, chile. Look up! Look up! You knows whut de yeast does fur de bread. White dignity does dat fur yo' blood. You knows whut de skerecrow does fur de cornfield. White wisdom does dat fur yo' womanhood. Whut de steam does fur de steam-cyar white go-er-head does fur you. You is right, chile. Look up! Now you mus' be feelin' mighty good. Ain't you? George is er little no-er-count, but Agnes'll wuk fur Tesney, an' George'll wuk fur Tesney, an' won't dat be er good bargain? Honey chile, say dat it will, an' please de heart ob po' ole Agnes."
"Aunt Agnes, it cannot be."
"Does you mean dat, chile?"
"I mean it, Aunt Agnes."
"Does you mean eb'ry wud ob it?"
"I mean every word of it."