A frown gathered on his usually serene
brow as he turned his gaze upon the child--a frown in which both
scorn and indignation were visible. Then all at once he seemed to
regain control of himself. The frown was chased away by a look of
Christian resignation.
"Dar now! W'at I tell you?" he exclaimed as if addressing a
witness concealed under the bed. "Ain't I done tole you so? Bless
grashus! ef chilluns ain't gittin' so dey knows mo'n ole fokes,
en dey'll 'spute longer you en 'spute longer you, ceppin' der ma
call um, w'ich I speck 'twon't be long 'fo' she will, en den Ill
set yere by de chimbly-cornder en git some peace er mine. W'en
ole Miss wuz livin'," continued the old man, still addressing
some imaginary person, 'hit 'uz mo'n enny her chilluns 'ud dast
ter do ter come 'sputin' longer me, en Mars John'll tell you de
same enny day you ax 'im."
"Well, Uncle Remus, you know you said the Rabbit poured hot
water on the Wolf and killed him," said the little boy.
The old man pretended not to hear. He was engaged in searching
among some scraps of leather under his chair, and kept on talking
to the imaginary person. Finally, he found and drew forth a
nicely plaited whip-thong with a red snapper all waxed and
knotted.
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