But Old Billy, not caring a fig for Mammy’s dignity or importance, planted his head in her breast, and over the old lady went backwards.  At this the children, who loved Mammy dearly, set up a yell, and Mammy, still waving the cotton-stalk, attempted to rise, but Billy was ready for her, and, with a well-aimed blow, sent her back to the earth.

“Now yer stop dat,” said Mammy.  “I don’t want ter fool wid yer; I lay I’ll bus’ yer head open mun, ef I git er good lick at yer; yer better gwuf fum yer!” But Billy, being master of the situation, stood his ground, and I dare say Mammy would have been lying there yet, but fortunately Uncle Sambo and Bill, the wagoners, came along the big road, and, hearing the children’s cries, they came upon the scene of action, and, taking their whips to Old Billy, soon drove him away.

“Mammy, we won’t never run away any more,” said Diddie, as Mammy came up; “’twas Dumps’s fault, anyhow.”

“Nem min,’ yer ma’s gwine whup yer,” said Mammy; “yer’d no business at dis gin-house long o’ dat sheep, an’ I won’er what you kinky-head niggers is fur, ef yer can’t keep de chil’en in de yard:  come yer ter me!” And, picking up a cotton-stalk, she gave each of the little darkies a sound whipping.

The children were more fortunate.  Mamma lectured them on the sin of running away from Mammy; but she put a piece of court-plaster on Diddie’s head, and kissed all of the dirty little faces, much to Mammy’s disgust, who grumbled a good deal because they were not punished, saying,

“Missis is er spilin’ dese chil’en, let’n uv ’em cut up all kind er capers.  Yer all better hyear me, mun.  Yer better quit dem ways yer got, er runnin’ off an’ er gwine in de mud, an’ er gittin’ yer cloes tor’d, an’ er gittin’ me butted wid sheeps; yer better quit it, I tell yer; ef yer don’t, de deb’l gwine git yer, sho’s yer born.”

But, notwithstanding her remarks, the little girls had a nice hot supper, and went to bed quite happy, while Mammy seated herself in her rocking-chair, and entertained Aunt Milly for some time with the children’s evil doings and their mother’s leniency.

CHAPTER V.

DIDDIE’S BOOK.

One morning Diddie came into the nursery with a big blank-book and a lead-pencil in her hand.

“What’s that, Diddie?” asked Dumps, leaving her paper dolls on the floor where she had been playing with Chris, and coming to her sister’s side.

“Now don’t you bother me, Dumps,” said Diddie; “I’m goin’ to write a book.”

“Are you?” said Dumps, her eyes opening wide in astonishment.  “Who’s goin’ ter tell yer what ter say?”

“I’m goin’ ter make it up out o’ my head,” said Diddie; “all about little girls and boys and ladies.”

“I wouldn’t have no boys in it,” said Dumps; “they’re always so hateful:  there’s Cousin Frank broke up my tea-set, an’ Johnnie Miller tied er string so tight roun’ Cherubim’s neck till hit nyearly choked ’im.  Ef I was writin’ er book, I wouldn’t have no boys in it.”