“If you don’t put that down, Sorrow,” I said, “I will break it over your head.”
“Oh! Massa,” said he, “dat would be a sin to waste dis oloriferous rum dat way; just let me drink it first, and den I will stand, and you may break de bottle on my head; it can’t hurt niggar’s head, only cut a little wool.”
“Come, no more of this nonsense,” I said, “put it down;” and seeing me in earnest, he did so.
“Now,” sais I, “tell us how you are going to cook the clams.”
“Oh! Massa,” said he, “do let me finish de story about de way I larned it.
“‘Sorrow,’ said missus, ‘I am going to take a long journey all de way to Boston, and de wedder is so cold, and what is wus, de people is so cold, it makes me shudder,’ and she shivered like cold ague fit, and I was afraid she would unjoint de sofa.
“‘Don’t lay too close to them, Missus,’ sais I.
“‘What,’ said she, and she raised herself up off ob de pillar, and she larfed, and rolled ober and ober, and tosticated about almost in a conniption fit, ‘you old goose,’ said she, ‘you onaccountable fool,’ and den she larfed and rolled ober agin, I tought she would a tumbled off on de floor, ‘do go way; you is too foolish to talk to, but turn my pillar again. Sorrow,’ said she, ‘is I showin’ of my ankles,’ said she, ‘rollin’ about so like mad?’
“‘Little bit,’ sais I, ‘Missus.’
“‘Den put dat scarf ober my feet agin. What on earth does you mean, Sorrow, bout not sleepin’ too close to de Yankees?’