"I nuver seed no sich place es dis yer town in all my lifetime," he
grumbled. "Dey des let us lie roun' loose on de bricks same es ef we ain'
been fittin' fur 'em twel we ain' nuttin' but skin en bone. Dose two wagon
loads er cut-up sodgers hev done fill de houses so plum full dat dey sticks
spang thoo de cracks er de do's. Don' talk ter me, suh, I ain' got no use
fur dis wah, noways, caze hit's a low-lifeted one, dat's what 'tis; en ef
you'd a min' w'at I tell you, you'd be settin' up at home right dis minute
wid ole Miss a-feedin' you on br'ile chicken. You may fit all you wanter--I
ain' sayin' nuttin' agin yo' fittin ef yo' spleen hit's up--but you could
er foun' somebody ter fit wid back at home widout comin' out hyer ter git
yo'se'f a-jumbled up wid all de po' white trash in de county. Dis yer wah
ain' de kin' I'se use ter, caze hit jumbles de quality en de trash
tergedder des like dey wuz bo'n blood kin."
"What are you muttering about now, Big Abel?" broke in Dan impatiently.
"For heaven's sake stop and find me a bed to lie on. Are they going to
leave me out here in the street on this pile of straw?"
"De Lawd he knows," hopelessly responded Big Abel. "Dey's a-fixin' places,
dey sez, dat's why all dese folks is a-runnin' dis away en dat away like
chickens wid dere haids chopped off. 'Fo' you hed yo' sense back dey wanted
ter stick you over yonder in dat ole blue shanty wid all de skin peelin'
off hit, but I des put my foot right down en 'lowed dey 'ouldn't.
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