human
Come, Horlander Toosypegs, get hup hout o' that, lying there in this musty hold room, face and hall plastered hover with mud, which his enough to give you the rheumatism the longest day you live, without the first spark hof a fire--so it is!
gpt
I'm dying, Aunt Priscilla; stay with me to the last!
human
Dying? Wah, wah! grunted Miss Priscilla, catching him by the shoulder and shaking him with no gentle hand.
gpt
Pretty corpse you'll make, hall hover with mud, hand looks has much like dying has I do.
human
De brunderingbuss an' de pissels war only loaded wid powder--no shot in 'em at all. 'Deed, old missus, he ain't hurted the fustest mite, only he t'inks so.
gpt
Hold! shrieked Miss Priscilla, turning fiercely upon Cupid.
human
You impident black nigger, you! to call me hold! Leave the room this very minute, hand never let me see your hugly, black face hagain!
gpt
Come--you are not hurt--get up! said Ketura, going over to the bedside, as poor Cupid, crestfallen, slunk away.
human
There is not a hair of your head injured. Up with you!
gpt
Am I not shot? demanded Mr. Toosypegs, bewildered.
human
Did the bullet not enter my brain?
gpt
You never had any for it to enter, said the gipsy, encouragingly.
human
Look yourself; there is neither wound nor blood.
gpt
No; but it's bleeding inwardly, said Mr. Toosypegs, with a hollow groan.
human
Oh, I know I'm a dead man!
gpt
Chut! I have no patience with you! Get up, man! you are as well as ever!