And as we wuz in a hurry, and knew the buttons wouldn’t show under the belt, we used some odd buttons out of Maggie’s button-bag, no two of a size or color, most of ’em pantaloons buttons, but some on ’em red ones, and one or two wuz white.
It looked like fury, but we knew the belt would cover it.
Wall, we made it, and I carried it down to her and explained the urgent necessity of the belt to her. And the very next day she wore it up to our house on a errant in the mornin’. I happened to be in the kitchen, and when she come in there I see the full row of pantaloons buttons a shinin’ out all round her waist, from the size of a dollar down to a pea.
As I looked on it, I know I looked strange.
And she asked me anxiously “if I wuz sick?”
And sez I, “Yes, sick unto death.”
She wuz too lazy and shiftless to put on that belt.
Sez I pretty severe like in axent, “Dinah, why didn’t you put on that belt?”
“Foh Gord, Missy, I cleen don fo’get it.”
“Wall, what good duz it do for us to work and make you a dress, if you are too shiftless to put it on?”