Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife told me I must put my name down on the Register before I went to my room, I didn’t object, nor I didn’t ask no questions, but I kep’ a pretty good look out. “Register!” I knew I had heard somethin’ that sounded like that, connected with deeds, and I wasn’t goin’ to sign away my property. I didn’t know as it was so, but I did have my thoughts, that mebby somebody had told ’em I was comein’ to the village, and they was tryin’ to get me to sign away my thirds, there is so much iniquity in the world. But I kep’ my thoughts to myself, and kep’ my eyes open. I jest looked over the book pretty sharp, before I put my name down, and I see it was all right. My room was on the 5th story, and I told J. Beans’es ex-wife that how I was goin’ to climb up them stairs I didn’t know, I was so tuckered out, I was sorry the minute I said it, for I was afraid she would go and tell Miss Aster, and Miss Aster would give up her bedroom to me, or mebby she would make Mr. Aster sleep with one of the boys, and have me sleep with her, and I wouldn’t have her put herself out for the world. And I spoke up and says I,
And she spoke up and says she, “Here is the elevater, be carried up.”
There was a big nigger comin’ right towards us, and I thought she meant him, for they have been called such funny names ever since the war, that I thought likely “Elevater” was one of ’em. But I jest put my foot right doun to once, says I firmly,
“I haint a goin’ to be lugged up stairs by that nigger.” And then I was so afraid that he would hear it, and it would hurt his feelin’s, that I spoke right up pretty loud, and says I,
“It haint on account of the gentleman’s dark complexion at all, that I object. But I don’t think Josiah would like it, to have any other man carryin’ me round in his arms.”
But Johnothan Beans’es ex-wife explained it to me. There was a little room about as big as our smoke house, all fixed off neat as a pin, and all we had to do was to git in, and then we was histed right up in front of our room. I was awful glad to be carried up, but I have got some pity left into me, and I says to her, says I,
“Haint it awful hard for the man that is drawin’ us up?” Says I, “Is it Mr. Aster, or is it his hired man?” and says I, “does he do it with a windlass, like a well bucket? or hand over hand, like drawin’ up water out of a cistern with a pole?”