"He's a gwineter fix hit up so dat dere won't be
so much worriment 'mong de w'ite fokes 'bout de kinder wedder
w'at falls to dere lot."
"He gwine dish em up," suggested one of the older ones, "like man
dish out sugar.
"No," answered Uncle Remus, mopping his benign features with a
very large and very red bandana. "He's a gwineter fix um better'n
dat. He's a gwineter fix um up so you kin have any kinder wedder
w'at you want widout totin' her home."
"How's dat?" asked some one.
"Hit's dis way," said the old man, thoughtfully. "In co'se you
knows w'at kinder wedder you wants. Well, den, w'en de man comes
long, w'ich Miss Sally say he will, you des gotter go up dar,
pick out yo' wedder an' dere'll be a clock sot fer ter suit yo'
case, an' w'en you git home, dere'll be yo' wedder a settin' out
in de yard waitin' fer you. I wish he wuz yer now," the old man
continued. "I'd take a pa'r er frosts in mine, ef I kotched cold
fer it. Dat's me!"
There were various exclamations of assent, and the old man went
on his way singing, "Don't you Grieve Atter Me."
XX. THE OLD MAN'S TROUBLES
"WHAT makes you look so lonesome, Brer Remus?" asked a well-
dressed negro, as the old man came shuffling down the street
by James's corner yesterday.
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