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220  The Conjure Woman

gal' bout dis yer baby doll en dis udder goopher, she had n' ha'dly 'lowed Mars' Dugal' would sell Jeff down Souf.  Howsomeber, she wuz so mad wid Jeff dat she 'suaded herse'f she did n' keer; en so she hilt her head up en went roun' lookin' lack she wuz rale glad 'bout it.
But one day she wuz walkin' down de road, w'en who sh'd come 'long but dis yer Hannibal.

W'en Hannibal seed 'er, he bus' out laffin' fittin' fer ter kill: 'Yah, yah, yah! ho, ho, ho! ha, ha, ha! Oh, hol' me, honey, hol' me, er I'll laf myse'f ter def.  I ain' nebber laf' so much sence I be'n bawn.'

'W'at you laffin' at, Hot-Foot?'
'Yah, yah, yah! W'at I laffin' at? W'y, I's laffin' at myse'f, tooby sho',- laffin' ter think w'at a fine 'oman I made.'

'Chloe tu'nt pale, en her hea't come up in her mouf.