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“But I don’t wish May Nell away, mother, do you?” Moses eyed his pet with solicitude. “Pore little beggar, he’s clean tuckered out,” he said. “He’ll need a good supper.” According to Moses’ idea, an excellent meal was the panacea for all earthly troubles. “Leave the boy be, Lize,” directed Ebenezer Wopp, whom the pride-inspiring events of the evening had rendered more self-assertive than usual. “He aint crowin’ none, an’ what he done brung credit to the hullo’ us.”.
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The divining woman looked into May Nell’s beautiful eyes, too deep and thoughtful for her slender body; drew her close and kissed her. “Yes, dear, just the nicest sort of work for a little girl. You may hull these strawberries; and if you eat some for toll I shan’t be looking.” “Never mind, Mosey, we’ll tell Miss Gordon. She’ll give them sulphur an’ brimstone to-morrer.” “Wait, Billy! You are hurt, badly. Let me see.” She put out a detaining hand. “Never mind grammar, or spelling, whichever it is; what did Flash do?”.
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