jersey inter 2008

"That was not play, Mr. Smith," Miss Harper had begun to respond, when a voice across the sedge-field called with startling clearness,

Old Dismukes rose. "Good-night. Shall I send this boy that Yankee's horse?"

"Ned Ferry! What does Ned Ferry know about my fitness?"

Her eyes flashed round upon me like stars themselves. "Not--Venus?" she whispered, snatched in her breath, bit her lip, and half averting her face, shot me through with both "twinklers" at once. Then she took a long look at the planets and suddenly exclaimed with a scandalized air--

"Who?--eh,--ole man Ol-i-veh? You sa--ay 'Is that his ma'-ied son, in yondeh; the one 'ith the fah hah? '--Eh,--no--o, suh,--eh,--yass, suh,--yass! Oh, yass, suh, thass his--tha'--thass his ma'ied son, in thah; yass, suh, the one 'ith the fah hah; yass, suh. I thought you meant the yetheh one."

His son's attitude exasperated him. "You know this ain't ever been our way; you'd say so, yourself, ef you wa'n't skin full o' china-ball whiskey! What in all hell is the reason we can't do him as we've always done the others?"

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