|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
 |
||||
|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
|
|
||||
|
The simple morning meal now smoked on the table, for Mrs. Shelby had ex- cused Aunt Chloe’s attendance at the great house that morning. The poor soul had expended all her little energies on this farewell feast,- had killed and dressed her choicest chicken, and prepared her corn-cake with scrupulous exactness, just to her husband’s taste and brought out certain mysterious jars on the mantel-piece, some preserves that were never produced except on extreme occasions. “Lor, Pete,” said Mose, triumphantly, “han’t we got a buster of a breakfast!” at the same time catching at a fragment of the chicken. Aunt Chloe gave him a sudden box on the ear. “Thar now! crowing over the last breakfast yer poor daddy’s gwine to have to home!” “O Chloe!” said Tom, gently. “Wal, I can’t help it,” said Aunt Chloe, hiding her face in her apron; “I’s so tossed about, it makes me act ugly.” The boys stood quite still, looking first at their father and then at their mother, while the baby, climbing up her clothes, began an imperious, commanding cry. “Thar!” said Aunt Chloe, wiping her eyes and taking up the baby; “now I’s done, I hope,- now do eat something. This yer’s my nicest chicken. Thar, boys, ye shall have some, poor critturs! Yer mammy’s been cross to yer.” The boys needed no second invitation, and went in with great zeal for the eat- ables; and it was well they did so, as otherwise there would have been very little performed to any purpose by the party. |
