Cupid. I got um dar in time, please Gaud. He let dis ole nigger
do dat much fer Mars George. He ax bout us all, Old Missus say, in de
few minutes he had lef. He say he powerful glad we git dar.

Marthy. It's de Lord's will, 'nd hits rite, but hit pears like we
don had little mo den our share ob de trouble. Dar de silber, hits
ready. You pack it up to Mistus, and ax her can't I fix her little
somethin' ter eat. I don't know what hits gwine ter be.

Cupid (brightening). Would she eat a piece ob nice young chicken?

Marthy. Go way, nigger, don't I know dar ant bin no chicken nor
nothin' else fer Old Mistus ter eat on this place fer more dan a month;
what you come round here talking bout chicken fer?

Cupid. Kin you keep you mouth shet bout somethin if I tells you?

Marthy (on her guard). Dat pens on what hits bout.

Cupid. I got a chicken, three fo on um, and some flour and some
butter, too. I tell you mistus gwine get chicken ef dars chicken lef in
dis world.

Marthy (suspicious). Whar did you get hit?

Cupid. I went down dar long twods whar de Yankees campin
yestiddy. I powerful skerd, yet I bleged to go, cause I got ter git
somethin for mistus ter eat, and de very fust person I meet war Mars
Winthrop. Pears like he don come down de lane by hisself, and he standin
down dar at de bars at de end ob de lane, lookin way off twords de