I wasn't much up at de house in dem times, an' she was took away 'fore I give much 'tention ter her." "Don' ole miss know she dar ?" asked Aunt Patsy.
'"She dunno nuffin' 'bout it," answered Isham.

"She's stayin' away cos she think Mahs' Junius dar yit." "Why don' you tell her, now you knows it's Miss Annie wot's dar ?" "You don' ketch me tellin her nuffin'," replied the old man shaking his head.

"Wish you was spry 'nuf ter go, Aun' Patsy.

She'd b'lieve you; an' she couldn't rar an' charge inter a ole pusson like you, nohow." "Ain't dar nobody else in dis h'yar place to go tell her ?" asked Aunt Patsy.
"Not a pusson," was Isham's decided answer.
"Well den I _is_ spry 'nuf!" exclaimed Aunt Patsy, with a vigorous nod of her head which sent her spectacles down to her mouth, displaying a pair of little eyes sparkling with a fire, long thought to be extinct.
"Ef you'll carry me dar, to Miss Harriet Corvey's, I'll tell ole miss myse'f.

I didn't 'spec to go out dat dohr till de fun'ral, but I'll go dis time.