seventy-six      

            Think him shockt when fust lay eyes on me again; my belly right swoll. But iffen him dis'poin'ed, him don' let on—don' say much dat whole day long, one way o' t'ot'er. Us jus' ride an' ride; thought my fanny rub off dat saddle so rough. Him kep' lookin', see how's I managin'. I preten' I fine. Ver' nex' day I settin' on dis here buckboar' comfy 's a queen. It nice. Him lets me lie down on de blankets in de back whilst him do de drivin'. I watch de trees go by an' de clouds an' smell de soil an' think 'bout how I miss de lan' an' how happy I is goin' home. Think Zach'ry happy, too. Course him don' say so, an' I won'er fo' a time iffen him not sorry; finein' me mus' a cos' one heap o' money. Give Éclair some fo' to smoove thin's ovah case Mutter Moss mean—fo' Éclair's sake not Mutter's, 'coun' Éclair he'p us. I ask don' Mistah Eberso'e own Jewel now? Zach'ry frown, den say him lef' dat scoun'rel what call' a "finer's fee" an' it mo' dan Mistah Eberso'e rightly deserve. An' "futt'ermo'e," him tell me, "Jewel own Jewel." I could a cry. Fac' is, I did; mus' a cry fo' mos' a hour. Course Éclair tol' me, but it was Zach'ry have to say so 'fo'e it real.