“I don’t care!” said Eugenia, looking defiantly at Uncle Ish.

“Lor’, chile, don’t teck on dat way,” remonstrated Aunt Verbeny.  “You ain’t had no raisin’ noways, en dar ain’ been nobody ter brung you up ‘cep’n yo’ pa.  Hit’s de foolishness uv Miss Chris ez has overturnt de hull place.”

“She’s a-settin’ moughty prim now,” continued Uncle Ish, his eyes on the little girl.  “She des’ es prim es ef she wuz chiny en glass, but I’se had my eye on ‘er afo’ dis.  I’se done tote ’er in dese arms when she wa’nt knee high ter Marse Tom’s ole mule Jenny, en she ain’t cut nairy er caper dat I ain’t ’sperienced hit.”

“I don’t care,” retorted Eugenia.

“Ain’t I done see her plump right out whar sis Delphy wuz a-wallopin’ her Jeetle nigger Jake, en holler out dat Jake ain’ done lay ban’s on her pa’s watermillion—­’case she done steal ’em herse’f?”

“I don’t care!” repeated Eugenia with tearful defiance.

“An’ she ain’ no mo’ steal dat ar watermillion den I is,” finished Uncle Ish triumphantly.

“It was just a lie,” said Bernard.  “Eugie, you know where liars go.”

“Des’ ez straight ter de bad place ez dey kin walk,” added Aunt Verbeny severely.  “Des’ ez straight ez de Lord kin sen’ ’em dar.”

“It was a good lie,” declared Nicholas, in manful defence of the weak.  “I don’t believe she’s goin’ to be damned for a good lie and a little one, too.”

“Well, dar’s lies en dar’s lies,” put in Delphy consolingly, “an’ I ’low dat dar’s mo’ in de manner uv lyin’ den in de lie.  Some lies is er long ways sweeter ter de tas’ den Gospel trufe.  Abraham, he lied, en it ain’t discountenance him wid de Lord.  Marse Tom, he lied when he wuz young, en it spar’d ‘im er whoppin’.  Hit’s er plum fool ez won’t spar’ dere own hinder parts on er ’count uv er few words.”

“George Washington didn’t,” said Bernard.

“I wish he had,” added Eugenia.  “Aunt Chris made me read about him and his old cherry tree when I told her the red rooster was setting, because I didn’t want her to kill him.”

“Ma asked me once if I had been fishin’ when she told me to clean out the spring,” said Nicholas thoughtfully, “an’ I said yes.”

“What did she say?” asked Bernard.

“Nothin’.  She whacked me on the head.”

Just then Betsey came in with her baby in her arms, and Moses shuffled aside to give place to her, cowed by an admonishing glance from his mother-in-law.

“Bless de Lord!” exclaimed Uncle Ish, lifting his withered, old hands.  “Ef dar ain’ anur er Betsey’s babies!  How many is de, Mose?”

Moses scratched his head and shrank into the corner.

“I ain’ done straighten ’em out yit, Unk Ish,” he returned slowly.  “’Pears like soon es I done add ’em all up anur done come, an’ I has ter kac’late f’om de bottom agin.  I ain’ got no head fer figgers, nohow.  Betsey, she lays dat dar’s ten uv ’em, but ter save my soul I can’t mek out mo’n eight.”