The children enjoyed the dancing even more than they had the playing, and Diddie and Dumps and Tot and all of the little darkies were patting their hands and singing “Cotton-eyed Joe” at the very top of their voices, when Mammy appeared upon the scene, and said it was time to go home.

“No, Mammy,” urged Dumps; “we ain’t er goin’ ter; we want ter sing ‘Cotton-eyed Joe;’ hit ain’t late.”

“Umph-humph! dat’s jes wat I ’lowed,” said Mammy.  “I ’lowed yer wouldn’t be willin’ fur ter go, er set’n’ hyear an’ er patt’n’ yer han’s same ez niggers, an’ er singin’ uv reel chunes; I dunno wat makes you chil’en so onstrep’rous.”

“Yes, Dumps, you know we promised,” said Diddie, “and so we must go when Mammy tells us.”

Dumps, finding herself overruled, had to yield, and they all went back to the house, talking very animatedly of the quarter folks and their plays and dances.

CHAPTER XI.

DIDDIE IN TROUBLE.

Diddie was generally a very good and studious little girl, and therefore it was a matter of surprise to everybody when Miss Carrie came down to dinner one day without her, and, in answer to Major Waldron’s inquiry concerning her, replied that Diddie had been so wayward that she had been forced to keep her in, and that she was not to have any dinner.

Neither Major nor Mrs. Waldron ever interfered with Miss Carrie’s management, so the family sat down to the meal, leaving the little girl in the schoolroom.

Dumps and Tot, however, were very indignant, and ate but little dinner; and, as soon as their mamma excused them, they ran right to the nursery to tell Mammy about it.  They found her overhauling a trunk of old clothes, with a view of giving them out to such of the little negroes as they would fit; but she dropped everything after Dumps had stated the case, and at once began to expatiate on the tyranny of teachers in general, and of Miss Carrie in particular.

“I know’d how ’twould be,” she said, “wen marster fotch her hyear; she got too much wite in her eye to suit me, er shettin’ my chile up, an’ er starvin’ uv her; I ain’t got no ‘pinion uv po’ wite folks, nohow.”

“Is Miss Carrie po’ white folks, Mammy?” asked Dumps, in horror, for she had been taught by Mammy and Aunt Milly both that the lowest classes of persons in the world were “po’ white folks” and “free niggers.”

“She ain’t no rich wite folks,” answered Mammy, evasively; “caze efn she wuz, she wouldn’t be teachin’ school fur er livin’; an’ den ergin, efn she’s so mighty rich, whar’s her niggers?  I neber seed ’em.  An’, let erlone dat, I ain’t neber hyeard uv ’em yit;” for Mammy could not conceive of a person’s being rich without niggers.

“But, wedder she’s rich or po’,” continued the old lady, “she ain’t no bizness er shettin’ up my chile; an’ marster, he oughtn’t ter ’low it.”

And Mammy resumed her work, but all the time grumbling, and muttering something about “ole maids” and “po’ wite folks.”