Aun' Sheba still laughed to herself, and remarked, "Unc., s'pose you try
Missy Ella's cure?"
"Wot she know 'bout it?" growled Uncle Sheba, with an injured aspect. "Wot
de use ob sawin' wood all day wen de town hot 'nuff now to roas'
lobsters?"
"Dat min's me, Unc. Why don' you took ter some sittin' wuck like fishin'
in de harbor? You mought catch a lobster, or some oder fish."
"De fish an' me 'ud bof be briled in dis yere sun 'fore we got home."
"Bar, Unc., you wouldn't go to Heben 'less you was toted."
"Ob cose not. Doan de Bible say de angels gwine ter tote us?"
"Well, I s'pose dey is.--Ef a body ony know'd weder it ud be up or down."
"Dar now, Aun' Sheba, wot fei you talk so se'rus in Augst? Nex' winter
we'se gwine ter hab a refreshin' from on high."
"P'raps you won' lib till nex' winter, Unc."
Uncle Sheba began to hitch uneasily, and remarked, "I doan see no use ob
sech oncomf'ble talk in de restin' time ob de yeah."
Aun' Sheba soon forgot him in her unspoken thoughts of Ella and young
Houghton.
"I begins ter unerstan' dat leetle gal now, an' all her goins on--puttin'
aw-spice in de cake twice, an' sayin' quar tings. Well, well, I knows
dey's all agin her, po' chile. Wot foolishness it all am! I once jam my
ban' in de do'--s'pose I went on jamin' for eber. Der's no use ob der
lookin' glum at me, fer dat young man's gwine ter hab all her cakes he
wants.
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