Dey is quality, an' no mistake.

I b'longed to Miss Rufe's grandpaw; he done lef' her all his money, she an' Mr.Carter.Poor Mr.Carter! Dey say he ain't got no lungs to speak of.

Ain't no wonder he's sorter wild like.

He takes after his grandpaw, my ole mars'.

Lor', honey, de mint-juleps jus' nachelly ooze outen de pores ob his grandpaw's skin! But Miss Rufe she ain't like none ob dem Nelsons; she favors her maw.