“All folkses, Lord; all folkses, Lord—­
  O Lord, bless all de same. 
O bless de good, an’ bless de bad,
  Fur de glory uv dy name. 
Now bless us, Lord! now bless us, Lord! 
  Don’t fool ‘long o’ us, no mo’;
O sen’ us down de blessin’, Lord,
  An’ den we’ll let yer go.”

CHAPTER VII.

POOR ANN.

“Miss Diddie!” called Dilsey, running into the nursery one morning in a great state of excitement; then, seeing that Diddie was not there, she stopped short, and demanded, “Whar Miss Diddie?”

“She’s sayin’ her lessons,” answered Dumps.  “What do you want with her?”

“De specerlaters is come,” said Dilsey; “dey’s right down yon’er on de crick banks back er de quarters.”

In an instant Dumps and Tot had abandoned their dolls, and Chris and Riar had thrown aside their quilt-pieces (for Aunt Milly was teaching them to sew), and they were all just leaving the room when Mammy entered.

“Whar yer gwine?” asked Mammy.

“Oh, Mammy, de specerlaters is come,” said Dumps, “an’ we’re goin’ down to the creek to see ’um.”

“No yer ain’t, nuther,” said Mammy.  “Yer ain’t er gwine er nyear dem specerlaters, er cotchin’ uv measles an’ hookin’-coffs an’ sich, fum dem niggers.  Yer ain’t gwine er nyear ‘um; an’ yer jes ez well fur ter tuck off dem bunnits, an’ ter set yerse’fs right back on de flo’ an’ go ter playin’.  An’ efn you little niggers don’t tuck up dem quilt-pieces an’ go ter patchin’ uv ’em, I lay I’ll hu’t yer, mun!  Who dat tell deze chil’en ’bout de specerlaters?”

“Hit uz Dilsey,” answered Chris and Riar in a breath; and Mammy, giving Dilsey a sharp slap, said,

“Now yer come er prancin’ in hyear ergin wid all kin’ er news, an’ I bet yer’ll be sorry fur it.  Yer know better’n dat.  Yer know deze chil’en ain’t got no bizness ‘long o’ specerlaters.”

In the meanwhile Dumps and Tot were crying over their disappointment.

“Yer mean old thing!” sobbed Dumps.  “I ain’t goin’ ter min’ yer, nuther; an’ I sha’n’t nuver go ter sleep no mo’, an’ let yer go to prayer-meetin’s; jes all time botherin’ me, an’ won’t lemme see de specerlaters, nor nothin’.”

“Jes lis’en how yer talkin’,” said Mammy, “givin’ me all dat sass.  You’re de sassies’ chile marster’s got.  Nobody can’t nuver larn yer no manners, aller er sassin ole pussons.  Jes keep on, an’ yer’ll see wat’ll happen ter yer; yer’ll wake up some er deze mornins, an’ yer won’t have no hyar on yer head.  I knowed er little gal onct wat sassed her mudder, an’ de Lord he sent er angel in de night, he did, an’ struck her plum’ bald-headed.”

“You ain’t none o’ my mother,” replied Dumps.  “You’re mos’ black ez my shoes; an’ de Lord ain’t er goin’ ter pull all my hair off jes ’boutn you.”

“I gwine right down-sta’rs an’ tell yer ma,” said Mammy.  “She don’t ’low none o’ you chil’en fur ter sass me, an’ ter call me brack; she nuver done it herse’f, wen she wuz little.  I’se got ter be treated wid ’spec myse’f; ef I don’t, den hit’s time fur me ter quit min’en chil’en:  I gwine tell yer ma.”