"Well, then, I'm your boy, an' I want you to do somethin' for me."
"I'll be boun' yer does."
"I felt so 'shame 'bout Pa's one shoat, that I went out to the front gate, an' when the committee came to go away, I tole 'em I'd bring somethin' to the barbecue."
"Mussy! yer aint got nuffin ter take."
"If I had a 'coon-dog, I might catch a 'coon or a 'possum. Look yere! can't you borrow Boston's ole Rum for me?"
Boston was Aunt Silvy's husband, and belonged on another plantation, and Rum was Boston's 'coon-dog.
"Ob cou'se I kin. Bos'on's mighty good ter min' me. But, law! yer aint 'quainted wid ole Rum; yer couldn't manage him no more'n nuffin. 'Sides, 'coons an' 'possums aint good now tell arter pussimon-time. Folks ud duspise yer 'coon an' 'possum, kase they's so poo'."
"Well, what can I take? I know Pa wouldn't let you bake me anything."
"Mussy, no! Law! yer oughter seed de roas'in' an' fryin', an' all de gwyne-ons at yer granpaw Thompson's. One Foaf we all tuck—lem me see, how many cheese-cakes an' tauts wus it?"
"But what can I take?" said Marley, impatiently.