Diddie, Dumps and Tot Part 15

"Well, dat mout er be so," said the old man; "I ain't er 'sputin' it, but you chil'en comes fum er mighty high-minded stock uv white folks, an' hit ain't becomin' in yer fur ter be runnin' erway an' er hidin'

out, same ez oberseer's chil'en, an' all kin' er po' white trash."

"We _are_ sorry about it now, Uncle Bob," said Diddie "but what would you 'vize us to do?" "Well, my invice is _dis_," said Uncle Bob, "fur ter go ter yer pa, an' tell him de truff; state all de konk.u.mstances des like dey happen; don't lebe out none er de facks; tell him you're sorry yer 'haved so onstreperous, an' ax him fur ter furgib yer; an' ef he _do_, wy dat's all right; an' den ef he _don't_, wy yer mus' 'bide by de kinsequonces. But fuss, do, fo' yer axes fur furgibness, yer mus' turn yer min's ter repintunce. Now I ax you chil'en _dis_, Is--you--sorry--dat--you--runned--off?

an'--is--you--'pentin'--uv--wadin'--in--de--ditch?"

Uncle Bob spoke very slowly and solemnly, and in a deep tone; and Diddie, feeling very much as if she had been guilty of murder, replied,

"Yes, I am truly sorry, Uncle Bob."

Dumps and Tot and the three little darkies gravely nodded their heads in a.s.sent.

"Den jes go an' tell yer pa so," said the old man. "An', anyway, yer'll hatter be gwine, caze hit's gittin' dark."

The little folks walked off slowly towards the house, and presently Dumps said,

"Diddie, I don't b'lieve I'm _rael_ sorry we runned off, an' I don't _right_ 'pent 'bout wadin' in the ditch, cause we had er mighty heap er fun; an' yer reckon ef I'm jes _sorter_ sorry, an' jes _toler'ble_ 'pent, that'll do?"

"I don't know about that," said Diddie; "but _I'm_ right sorry, and I'll tell papa for all of us."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WELL, MY INVICE IS DIS."]

The children went at once to the library, where Major Waldron was found reading.

"Papa," said Diddie, "we've ben very bad, an' we've come ter tell yer 'bout it."

"An' the Jay Bird, he tol' the deb'l," put in Dumps, "an' 'twan't none er his business."

"Hush up, Dumps," said Diddie, "till I tell papa 'bout it. I wouldn't say my lesson, papa, an' Miss Carrie locked me up, an' the chil'en brought me my dinner."

"'Tuz me," chimed in Tot. "I b'ing 'er de _besses_ dinner--take an' jam an' pud'n in de p'ate. Aunt Mawy durn turn me."

"Hush, Tot," said Diddie, "till I get through. An' then, papa, I climbed out the winder on the step-ladder, an' I--"

"Dilsey an' Chris got the ladder," put in Dumps.

"HUSH UP, Dumps!" said Diddie; "you're all time 'ruptin' me."

"I reckon I done jes bad ez you," retorted Dumps, "an' I got jes much right ter tell 'boutn it. You think n.o.body can't be bad but yerse'f.'

"Well, then, you can tell it all," said Diddie, with dignity. "Papa, Dumps will tell you."

And Dumps, nothing daunted, continued:

"Dilsey an' Chris brought the step-ladder, an' Diddie clum out; an' we runned erway in the woods, an' waded in the ditch, an' got all muddy up; an' the Jay Bird, he was settin' on er limb watchin' us, an' he carried the news ter the deb'l; an' Uncle Snake-bit Bob let us go ter his shop, an' tol' us 'bout the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r's head, an' that's all; only we ain't n-e-v-er goin' ter do it no mo'; an', oh yes, I furgot--an'

Diddie's rael sorry an' right 'pents; an' I'm sorter sorry, an'

toler'ble 'pents. An', please, are you mad, papa?"

"It was certainly very wrong," said her father, "to help Diddie to get out, when Miss Carrie had locked her in; and I am surprised that Diddie should need to be kept in. Why didn't you learn your lesson, my daughter?"

"I did," answered Diddie; "I knew it every word; but Miss Carrie jus'

cut up, an' wouldn't let me say it like 'twas in the book; an' she laughed at me; an' then I got mad, an' wouldn't say it at all."

"Which lesson was it?" asked Major Waldron.

"'Twas er hist'ry lesson, an' the question was, 'Who was Columbus?' an'

the answer was, 'He was the son of er extinguished alligator;' an' Miss Carrie laughed, an' said that wan't it."

"And I rather think Miss Carrie was right," said the father. "Go and bring me the book."

Diddie soon returned with her little history, and, showing the pa.s.sage to her father, said, eagerly,

"Now don't you see here, papa?"

And Major Waldron read, "He was the son of a _distinguished navigator_." Then, making Diddie spell the words in the book, he explained to her her mistake, and said he would like to have her apologize to Miss Carrie for being so rude to her.

This Diddie was very willing to do, and her father went with her to the sitting-room to find Miss Carrie, who readily forgave Diddie for her rebellion, and Dumps and Tot for interfering with her discipline. And that was a great deal more than Mammy did, when she saw the state of their shoes and stockings, and found that they had been wading in the ditch.

She slapped the little darkies, and tied red-flannel rags wet with turpentine round the children's necks to keep them from taking cold, and scolded and fussed so that the little girls pulled the cover over their heads and went to sleep, and left her quarrelling.

CHAPTER XIII.

A PLANTATION MEETING AND UNCLE DANIEL'S SERMON.

"Are you gwine ter meetin', Mammy?" asked Diddie one Sunday evening, as Mammy came out of the house attired in her best flowered muslin, with an old-fas.h.i.+oned mantilla (that had once been Diddie's grandmother's) around her shoulders.

"Cose I gwine ter meetin', honey; I'se er tryin' ter sarve de Lord, I is, caze we ain't gwine stay hyear on dis yearth all de time. We got ter go ter nudder kentry, chile; an' efn yer don't go ter meetin', an' watch an' pray, like de Book say fur yer ter do, den yer mus' look out fur yerse'f wen dat Big Day come wat I hyears 'em talkin' 'bout."

"Can't we go with you, Mammy? We'll be good, an' not laugh at 'em shoutin'."

"I dunno wat yer gwine loff at 'em shoutin' fur; efn yer don't min' de loff gwine ter be turnt some er deze days, an' dem wat yer loffs at hyear, dem's de ones wat's gwine ter do de loffin' wen we gits up yon'er! But, let erlone dat, yer kin go efn yer wants ter; an' efn yer'll make has'e an' git yer bunnits, caze I ain't gwine wait no gret wile. I don't like ter go ter meetin' atter hit starts. I want ter hyear Brer Dan'l's tex', I duz. I can't neber enj'y de sermon doutn I hyears de tex'."

You may be sure it wasn't long before the children were all ready, for they knew Mammy would be as good as her word, and would not wait for them. When they reached the church, which was a very nice wooden building that Major Waldron had had built for that purpose, there was a large crowd a.s.sembled; for, besides Major Waldron's own slaves, quite a number from the adjoining plantations were there. The younger negroes were laughing and chatting in groups outside the door, but the older ones wore very solemn countenances, and walked gravely in and up to the very front pews. On Mammy's arrival, she placed the little girls in seats at the back of the house, and left Dilsey and Chris and Riar on the seat just behind them, "fur ter min' 'em," as she said (for the children must always be under the supervision of somebody), and then she went to her accustomed place at the front; for Mammy was one of the leading members, and sat in the amen corner.

Soon after they had taken their seats, Uncle Gabe, who had a powerful voice, and led the singing, struck up:

"Roll, Jordan, roll! roll, Jordan, roll!

I want ter go ter heb'n wen I die, Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.

"Oh, pray, my brudder, pray!

Yes, my Lord; My brudder's settin' in de kingdum, Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.

_Chorus._

Roll, Jordan, roll! roll, Jordan, roll!

I want ter go ter heb'n wen I die, Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.