'Has I retched my age,' says ol' Mis' Scarlett, 'to have
his fowls ruinin' my gyardin', an' him whut's a dunghill rooster
himself flyin' ovah my fences unbeknownst?'
"'If there evah was a leather-hided ol' hen ripe foh roastin' on
Beelzebub's own griddle, it's you, you gallows ol' witch!' says
Doctor, shakin' 'is fist up at her.
"'Aha! I got a plain case!' says ol' Mis', grim-like. 'I'll have a
warrant out foh you dis day, Geddes, you owdacious villyum!'
"And she done it. Yas'm. An' dey done sont de shariff atter me for
witness, all two bofe o' dem."
"Well, and what did you do?" I asked, curiously. I was getting a
side-light on Great-Aunt Sophronisba.
"Me? I got on muh knees an' wrastled wid de speret," said Uncle
Adam. "I done tuck mah troubles to de Lawd, whichin He _'bleeged_
ter know I cyant deal wid ol' Mis' Scarlett an' de Doctor. Missis, I
prayed!"
"Oh! And what happened then?"
The old man looked around him, cautiously, and lowered his voice:
"Wellum, Mis' Scarlett she tuck an' went an' up an' died. Yessum!
She done daid. An' next thing we-all heah, she 'd went an' lef de
Hynds place to youna, 'stead ob de Doctor, or dat furriner.
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