THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN
beatin' de life out'n me. Marse Tumlin stood dar pullin' at his goatee all dat time, an' bimeby I got up. I wa'n't feelin' much better, but I done had my cry an' dat's sump'n. I got up, I did, an' start back de way I come.
"Marse Tumlin say, 'Whar you gwine, Minervy Ann? I 'low, 'I'm gwine back home—dat's whar I'm gwine!' He say, 'Pick up yo' bundle.' Wid dat I turn 'roun' on him an' 'low, 'I ain't gwine ter do it! Ef it hadn't er been fer dat ar muslin dress in dar, what Miss Vallie make over an' gi' me, I'd been at home right dis minute.'
"He 'low, 'What dat got ter do wid it, Minervy Ann?' I make answer, 'Bekaze ol' Satan make me want ter put it on an' sho' off 'fo' dem country niggers out dar whar Hamp's folks live at.' Wid dat I start back home, but Marse Tumlin holler at me—'Minervy Ann, take dis chicken.' I tuck it, I did, an' made off up de road. Bimeby I sorter flung my eye 'roun', an', bless gracious! dar wuz Marse Tumlin comin' 'long totin' my bundle. Well, suh, it flewed all over me like fier. I got so mad wid myse'f dat I could 'a' bit a piece out'n my own flesh.
"I waited in de road twel he come up, an' den I snatched de bundle out er his han'. I 'low, 'I ain't gwine ter have you totin' none er my bundles in de
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