We have friends there," explained Yancy.
"That settles it!" cried Cavendish.

"It won't be Kentucky, and it won't be Illinoy; I'll put you asho' at Memphis; mebby you'll find yo' nevvy there after all." "That's the best.

You lay still and get yo' strength back as fast as you can, and try not to worry--do now." Polly's voice was soft and wheedling.
"I reckon I been a heap of bother to you-all," said Yancy.
"La, no," Polly assured him; "you ain't been." And now the six little Cavendishes appeared on the scene.

The pore gentleman had come to--sho! He had got his senses back--sho! he wa'n't goin' to die after all; he could talk.

Sho! a body could hear him plain! Excited beyond measure they scurried about in their fluttering rags of nightgowns for a sight and hearing of the pore gentleman.