“The END of Nettie Herbert.”

“Oh, dear me!” she sighed, when she had finished, “I am tired of writin’ books; Dumps, sposin’ you make up ’bout the ‘Bad Little Girl,’ an’ I’ll write it down jes like you tell me.”

“All right,” assented Dumps, once more leaving her dolls, and coming to the table.  Then, after thinking for a moment, she began, with great earnestness: 

“Once pun er time there was er bad little girl, an’ she wouldn’t min’ nobody, nor do no way nobody wanted her to; and when her mother went ter give her fyssick, you jes ought ter seen her cuttin’ up! she skweeled, an’ she holler’d, an’ she kicked, an’ she jes done ev’y bad way she could; an’ one time when she was er goin’ on like that the spoon slipped down her throat, an’ choked her plum ter death; an’ not long after that, when she was er playin’ one day—­”

“Oh, but, Dumps,” interrupted Diddie, “you said she was dead.”

“No, I nuver said nuthin’ ‘bout her bein’ dead,” replied Dumps; “an’ ef you wrote down that she’s dead, then you wrote a story, ’cause she’s livin’ as anybody.”

“You said the spoon choked her to death,” said Diddie.

“Well, hit nuver killed her, anyhow,” said Dumps; “hit jes only give her spasums; an’ now you’ve gone and put me all out; what was I sayin’?”

“When she was er playin’ one day,” prompted Diddie.

“Oh yes,” continued Dumps, “when she was er playin’ one day on the side uv the creek with her little sister, she got ter fightin’ an’ pinchin’ an’ scrougin’, an’ the fus thing she knowed, she fell kersplash in the creek, and got drownded.  An’ one time her mammy tol’ ’er not nuber ter clim’ up on the fender, an’ she neber min’ ’er, but clum right upon the fender ter git an apple off’n the mantel-piece; an’ the fender turned over, an’ she fell in the fire an’ burnt all up.  An’ another time, jes er week after that, she was er foolin’ ’long—­”

“Dumps, what are you talkin’ ’bout?” again interrupted Diddie.  “She couldn’t be er foolin’ long o’ nothin’ ef she’s dead.”

“But she ain’t dead, Diddie,” persisted Dumps.

“Well, you said the fire burned her up,” retorted Diddie.

“I don’t care ef hit did,” said Dumps; “she nuver died bout hit; an’ ef you’re goin’ ter keep sayin’ she’s dead, then I sha’n’t tell yer no mo’.”

“Go on, then,” said Diddie, “and I won’t bother you.”

“Well, one time,” continued Dumps, “when she was er foolin’ ‘long o’ cow, what she had no business, the cow run his horns right through her neck, an’ throwed her way-ay-ay up yon’er; an’ she nuver come down no mo’, an’ that’s all.”

“But, Dumps, what become of her?” asked Diddie.

“I dunno what become uv her,” said Dumps.  “She went ter hebn, I reckon.”

“But she couldn’t go ter hebn ef she’s so bad,” said Diddie; “the angel wouldn’t let her come in.”

“The cow throwed her in,” said Dumps, “an’ the angel wan’t er lookin’, an’ he nuver knowed nuthin’ ’bout it.”