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324             UNCLE TOM'S CABIN; OR
Chloe had a particular fancy for calling poultry poetry, — an application of language in which she always per­sisted, notwithstanding frequent corrections and advisings from the young members of the family.
" La sakes ! " she would say, " I can't see ; one jis good as turry, — poetry suthin good, anyhow ; " and so poetry Chloe continued to call it.
Mrs. Shelby smiled as she saw a prostrate lot of chick­ens and ducks, over which Chloe stood, with a very grave face of consideration.
" I 'm a-thinkin' whether Missis would be a-havin' a chicken pie o' dese yer."
" Really, Aunt Chloe, I don't much care ; — serve them anyway you like."
Chloe stood handling them over abstractedly; it was quite evident that the chickens were not what she was thinking of. At last, with the short laugh with which her tribe often introduce a doubtful proposal, she said, —
" Laws me, Missis ! what should Mas'r and Missis be a-troublin' theirselves 'bout de money, and not a-usin' what's right in der hands ? " and Chloe laughed again.
" I don't understand you, Chloe," said Mrs. Shelby, nothing doubting, from her knowledge of Chloe's manner, that she had heard every word of the conversation that had passed between her and her husband.
" Why, laws me, Missis! " said Chloe, laughing again, " other folks hires out der niggers and makes money on 'em. Don't keep sich a tribe eatin' 'em out of house and home."
"Well, Chloe, whom do you propose that we should hire out? "
" Laws! I an't a-proposin' nothin' ; only Sam he said der was one of dese yer perfectioners, dey calls 'em, in Louisville, said he wanted a good hand at cake and pas­try ; and said he 'd give four dollars a week to one. he did."
" Well, Chloe."