I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know.

He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow.

Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks.

Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so.

He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him.