whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed
fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at
the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from
the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom s eyes, before, but
now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at
the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there
waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting,
skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred
and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an
hour and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:
Say, Jim, I ll fetch the water if you ll whitewash some.
Jim shook his head and said:
Can t, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an git dis water
an not stop foolin roun wid anybody. She say she spec Mars Tom gwine
to ax me to whitewash, an so she tole me go long an tend to my own
business she lowed _she d_ tend to de whitewashin .
Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That s the way she always talks.
Gimme the bucket I won t be gone only a a minute. _She_ won t ever
know.
Oh, I dasn t, Mars Tom. Ole missis she d take an tar de head off n me.
Deed she would.
_She_! She never licks anybody whacks em over the head with her
thimble and who cares for that, I d like to know. She talks awful, but
talk don t hurt anyways it don t if she don t cry. Jim, I ll give you a
marvel. I ll give you a white alley!
Jim began to waver.
White alley, Jim! And it s a bully taw.
My! Dat s a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I s powerful
fraid ole missis
And besides, if you will I ll show you my sore toe.
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