“My very words , Brer Penrod! I was a-sayin’⁠—pass that-air sasser o’ m’lasses, won’t ye?⁠—I was a-sayin’ to Sister Dunlap, jist this minute, how did they git that grindstone in there, s’I. Without help , mind you⁠—’thout help ! Thar’s wher ’tis. Don’t tell me , s’I; there wuz help, s’I; ’n’ ther’ wuz a plenty help, too, s’I; ther’s ben a dozen a-helpin’ that nigger, ’n’ I lay I’d skin every last nigger on this place but I’d find out who done it, s’I; ’n’ moreover, s’I⁠—”