human
Try an' mek out yer suppah, suh, Mrs. Rogers urged as she handed Dudley a cup of steaming coffee.
gpt
I'm feared thar ain't much fittin' to eat. Ef we'd knowed in time, we might hev killed a shoat.
human
Try some o' this middlin', chimed in Rogers on the other side, passing the dish.
gpt
Tilt up the plattah an' git some gravy; it's better'n the meat. Wish 'twuz time fur 'possum. My mouth fa'rly watahs fur a taste o' possum meat. 'Tain't jes' a fashionable dish now, I reckon, he continued, reaching out for a potato;
human
Susan heah kindah turns up her nose et 'possum, an' I reckon Mar'm Gilcrest would die away et the sight uv 'possum meat on her table, but----
gpt
Jane Gilcrest's a fine somebody to turn up her nose et 'possum! A purty mess her table'd be, fur all its silver spoons an' fine chaney, ef she hed the settin' uv it.--Tommy, don't spill thet gravy on the tablechoth. I'll send you'n' Buddy to the kitchen ef you can't eat lak white folks!--She puffs herse'f on bein' a Temple, an' claims they wuz uv the bluest blood in Virginny. Frum the way she spouts 'bout her generalgies, her fambly tree must be ez fine an' big ez thet ole elm down thah by the spring-house; but be thet ez it may, she's a pore limb offen any fambly tree, with her sheftless ways.--Rache, fotch in some moah hom'ny.--Gilcrest's got the finest house in these parts, and----
human
Yes, interrupted her husband,
gpt
The furnicher's ez fine ez the house, went on Mrs. Rogers.
human
Thar is a boughten cairpit in the parlor, an' mahog'ny sofy an' cheers.--Lucindy, wipe yer knife on yer bread befoh he'pin' yo'se'f to buttah. Can't I nevah l'arn you no mannahs?
gpt
They have a big music-piece with ivory keys, and Miss Abby's teaching Betsy to play on it,
human
Yes, it's all mighty fine, an' I'm shore I don't begrudge any uv it: an' now thet Miss Abby hez come to live thar an' Betsy's gittin' to be a big gal, things is bettah looked aftah, Mrs. Rogers conceded.
gpt
The heft o' manidgment falls on Betsy an' Miss Abby, fur Jane hain't no more faculty then a grasshopper.--Lucy, don't eat with yer fingers lak a niggah. Whut's yer knife fur, ef it ain't to eat with?--I wuz ovah there last spring, 'long in April or May, an' axed Jane ef she'd got her soap grease made up. She looked et me onconsarned lak, an' says she really didn't know; ole Dilsey allus looked aftah sich things. Think on it! a wife an' mothah an' housekeepah not knowin' ef the year's soap grease wuz wucked up--an' it late on in spring, too. Jane she knits some, an' she kin do a lot o' fine herrin'-bonin' an' tattin' an' tambour wuck; but spinnin' an' weavin' an' mekin' candles an' soap, an' sich useful emplements, she don't consarn about no more'n my Lucindy an' Lucy.--Henry, ef you eat any more o' thet bacon, you'll be squealin' lak a pig, befoh mawnin'. Hev some more honey, Mistah Dudley.