Rap, rap, at Laz.
"Never mind, sir. I will attend to you presently. You," he said, speaking to Mose. "Did you ever see Mr. Starbuck make whiskey?"
"Well, I've seed him m—m—m—m—make l—l—l—lasses."
The Judge grew impatient. "Do you know why you are here?"
"B—b—b—b—because they c—c—c—c—cotch me."
"No nonsense, sir."
"P—p—p—p—pap he 'lows I ain't g—g—g—got no sense of any s—s—s—sort, much."
The Judge sighed. "When you go into the court-room, do you think you can understand the nature of an oath?"
"W—w—w—well, I ought to. I've b—b—b—been c—c—cussed enough."
And Laz broke in: "He don't cuss hisse'f, Jedge, but he knows good cussin' when he hears it."