We des all a-lookin' ter you, young
mistis."
"Oh, uncle! what can I do?"
"Shame on you, Uncle Lusthah, fer pilin' up sech a heap ob 'plexity
on my honey," cried Aun' Jinkey, who was as practical as she was
superstitious. "I kin tell you w'at ter do. I doan projeck en smoke
in my chimbly-corner fer not'n. W'at kin you do but do ez you tole
twel Marse Scoville en de Linkum gin'ral come agin? S'pose you say
you woan wuk en woan 'bey, how you hole out agin Perkins en Mad
Whately? Dey'd tar you all ter pieces. Dey say dis wah fer freedom.
Whar yo' patience twel de wah'll end? De Yanks mus' do mo' dan say
we free; dey mus' keep us free. Dar Aun' Suke. She say she free one
minit en a slabe nex' minute twel her haid mos' whirl off her
shol'ers. Now she say, 'I doan know 'bout dis freedom business; I
does know how ter cook en I'se gwinter cook twel dey gets troo a
whirlin' back en forth.' You says I mus' trus' de Lawd 'bout spooks,
Uncle Lusthah. W'y kyant you trus' de Lawd 'bout freedom?"
The old man shook his head sorrowfully, for Aun' Suke and Aun'
Jinkey's philosophy didn't satisfy him.
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