Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Cub of the Panther: A Hunter Legend of the ''Old North State'' >> Book Second / Chapter One: The Melancholy Hunter >> Page 48

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Novel (Romance) | The University of Arkansas Press | 1997
Transcription 48 THE CUB OF THE PANTHER
with its smiling and sniggering, and the toss of her little head, and her
twisted curls! Yes, I kin tell exactly how 'twas! Her head begun to twist
and shake, and her mouth to pucker up, all a smiling, as soon as she
seed them young fellows come into the room! She gits it all from her
fool mother, with her big words and her consequence and conceited
airs; and I reckons she's jest fool enough, like her mother, to notion it
that them young men's a'ter her! and so it may be, Sam Fuller; but, mark
me, no good'll come of it to her! The feathers draw out all her brains,
and she's no right use of her seven senses. I kin see it all now! But it
does so vex me that Mike don't see and won't see, and hasn't a man's
sperit in him, when he thinks of that painted vanity! It's amazin' to me
to see what fools men air when dealing with young women! Lord! ef I
had only been a man; why, Sam, I could have had hafe the women in
the country, only for the axing just by shaking a hank'chiefl""The Lord save the country then, and the Lord be praised for hav-
ing made you what you air jest a woman and nothing better!"
Then, sotto voce, but still loud enough for her to hear
"It might have been a good thing for Sam Fuller ef you had been
made a man! for then
"Then what!" fiercely confronting him.
"Why, then, I might have been a man myself, able to say my soul's
my own!
""Git out, you Satan! You got that from Mike.""Well, Mattie, I don't kear a button to see Mike in his present fix and
situation. Ef he's fool enough to be bamboozled by a fool-woman, as
you say, he desarves it; and ef she kicks him the better for him, as you
yourself says! Let him growl and be sorrowful, and let her kick! and I
don't kear a straw with how many nabobs she dances. Let 'em work it
out among themselves, and find the profit when it comes; and you take
my advice now don't you make or meddle in the business! The day'll
come out cl'ar, when it's tired of raining; and Mike'll wear out his lov-
ing, jest as one wears out the chills, when they tire of shaking him, and
when he's too lazy to shake! You hush up, and keep your tongue quiet.
It's a leetle too sprigh, Mattie, for a quiet house, and a kerb wouldn't do
you any harm!""A kerb! Oh! you great brute! You're always, you and Mike, hew-
ing something to say about my tongue, when, as the Lord's my judge,
I makes less use of my tongue than any woman in the mountain
country."