Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Cub of the Panther: A Hunter Legend of the ''Old North State'' >> Chapter Five: The Amiable Sisters >> Page 131

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Novel (Romance) | The University of Arkansas Press | 1997
Transcription THE AMIABLE SISTERS 131
But Mrs. Carter did not perceive this. She only knew that her daugh-
ter was still the centre of the fashionable world, the observed of all
observers, with men of wealth and blood, and station, dancing atten-
dance about her.
"But," says Aunt Betsy, bluntly enough, "she don't tell you as how she's
cotched one of them tip-tops yit.""These are things, Betsy Moore, which a delicate sensibility does not
like to dilate upon.""Delickit fiddlesticks, Jane Carter! Ain't she writing to her own
mammy, and kain't she speak out plain to her?""Mammy! how vulgar! You will never learn, Betsy Moore! alas, never!
The very fact, Betsy, that Rose says nothing of her conquests is, I am sat-
isfied, conclusive proof that she might say much. In due time, you may
be sure that the revelation will be made.""Well," replied Aunt Betsy, with an unexpected touch of humor,
"you'd better look out for it, next Sunday, in your Bible reading, in St.
John's Book of Revelations! He'll tell you just as much of the chainces
as you'll git out of any of Rose's letters."
Mrs. Carter would have been angry but for the fatigue which such an
emotion would occasion. She judiciously substituted contempt for anger,
as she replied:
"Were you less vulgarly ignorant, Betsy Moore, I should regard you
as a blasphemer, treating the Holy Scriptures with irreverence, and, in
your secret heart, if not on your tongue, taking the name of the Lord
himself in vain.
"That's pretty much as of you said, I was givin to cussing in my heart,
Jane Carter.""I confess it is very much like it, Betsy Moore.""Well, I kin tell you, Jane Carter, I could say something to split your
ears, though it wouldn't be cussing neither; but as I knows what you says
is fool talk, no better than the crackle of dry sticks under the kittle, I
won't say it. I'm wulgar, am I? Well, yes. I'm so wulgar that I aint a hyper-
crite, and I despises a fool that would be a fine lady, and don't know how.
When you tries your best, Jane Carter, you look edzackly like the boy that
was sent for and couldn't come.""It is astonishing, Betsy Moore, how you do and can put up all the
slang phrases of common people. You seem to delight in them, and to
prefer them to all others. You have had, in your long associations with
me, ample opportunity to distinguish between right and wrong, between
the elegant and vulgar; yet all lessons, all pure examples, are thrown away