"You had ought to let me see the pore gentleman!" he added ingratiatingly.
"Well, ain't you been seein' him every day fo' risin' two weeks and upwards ?--ain't you sat by him hours at a stretch ?" demanded Mr.
Cavendish fiercely.
Sho--that didn't count, he only kept a mutterin'-- sho!--arollin' his head sideways, sho! And their six tow heads were rolled to illustrate their meaning.

And a-pluckin' at a body's hands!--and they plucked at Mr.Cavendish's hands.

Sho--did he say why he done that?
"If you-all will quit yo' noise and dress, you-all kin presently set by the pore gentleman.

If you don't, I'll have to speak to yo' mother; I 'low she'll trim you! I reckon you-all don't want me to call her?
No, by thunderation!--because you-all know she won't stand no nonsense! She'll fan you; she'll take the flat of her hand to you-all and make you skip some; I reckon I'd get into my pants befo' she starts on the warpath.

I wouldn't give her no such special opportunity as you're offerin'!" Mr.Cavendish's voice and manner had become entirely confidential and sympathetic, and though fear of their mother could not be said to bulk high on their horizon, yet the small Cavendishes were persuaded by sheer force of his logic to withdraw and dress.