Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Cub of the Panther: A Hunter Legend of the ''Old North State'' >> Chapter Fourteen: Catastrophe at Rosedale >> Page 177

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Novel (Romance) | The University of Arkansas Press | 1997
"Well, sure, it's a monstrous great difference twixt thirteen days and
fourteen, Jane Carter! You will always be disputing about nothing and
nobody!""Doubtless, Betsy, when you are the subject.""Oh! yes! Wouldn't be you, ef you couldn't fling some dirt in your sis-
ter's face! I onderstand you! But, ef it is only thirteen instead of four-
teen days, I think that a mighty long time to keep the gal from visiting
her kinfolk.""And who keeps her, do you think?""Why the grand old woman that you think so much ofl She's a sort
of queen to your notion. She ain't to mine. She used to let Rose come
once every week and, more than that, she used to come with her, 'most
every time; and now she hain't been onst sense she's got back from her
traveling. But her not coming, is no good reason for Rose not coming.
She ought to come, as eny good da'ter would, ef only to see that her
mammy and aunty waur lively and good-looking. She's got no excuse,
Jane Carter.
"Rose needs no excuse, Betsy Moore. I have no doubt there are good
reasons for her failure the last week. I take for granted that Fairleigh
Lodge is now crowded with visitors, all of the best society, who have gone
thither to pay their respects to Mrs. Fairleigh, and congratulate her on
her safe return to her friends and neighbors.""Well, if they had wanted to do that, they wan't in any great hurry
about it; for the old woman has been home now a matter gwine on two
months, quite.""Seven weeks and three days only, Betsy Moore, as you will see by
looking at the almanac. I marked the day of her return. Your arithmetic
is not the smallest part of your education which has been neglected.""Oh, deuse take the arithmetic.""It is melancholy, Betsy Moore, to think how little reverence you have
for sacred things. It is only recently that I had to rebuke you for your dis-
respectful mention of the Revelations of St. John: and, but yesterday, you
spoke impertinently of the Maccabees of Holy Scriptures.""Impertinently, indeed! I jest said, what I did think then, and do think
now, that the Jews had never any kind of bees, whether you call them
macky or cracky, hafe so good as our own; or made sich fine honey as
our'n; for when did you ever hyer of Buncombe bees making their hive
in the carcass of a rotten buffalo? I'm sure, none of our people would ever
eat of the coming out of such a hive!"