I won't hear one word--not the beginning of a word.' I says to 'em, 'This yer young un's mine, and not yourn, and you've no kind o' business with it.

I'm going to sell it, first chance; mind, you don't cut up none o' yer shines about it, or I'll make ye wish ye'd never been born.' I tell ye, they sees it an't no play, when I gets hold.

I makes 'em as whist as fishes; and if one on 'em begins and gives a yelp, why,--" and Mr.Loker brought down his fist with a thump that fully explained the hiatus.
"That ar's what ye may call _emphasis_," said Marks, poking Haley in the side, and going into another small giggle.

"An't Tom peculiar?
he! he! I say, Tom, I s'pect you make 'em _understand_, for all niggers' heads is woolly.

They don't never have no doubt o' your meaning, Tom.