"Look to the horses, Obadiah. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. She covered herself with her arms. . Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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