Mammy made a bed for the doggies in a box in one corner of the nursery, and the children were so excited and so happy that she could hardly get them to bed at all; but after a while Tot’s blue eyes began to droop, and she fell asleep in Mammy’s arms, murmuring, “De booful itty doggie.”

“De booful itty doggies,” however, did not behave very well; they cried and howled, and Dumps insisted on taking hers up and rocking him to sleep.

“Hit’s er gittin’ so late, honey,” urged Mammy, “let ’um stay in de box, an’ go ter bed now, like good chil’en.”

“I know I ain’t, Mammy,” replied Dumps.  “You mus’ think I ain’t got no feelin’s ter go ter bed an’ leave ‘im hollerin’.  I’m er goin’ ter rock ‘im ter sleep in my little rockin’-cheer, an’ you needn’t be er fussin’ at me nuther.”

“I ain’t er fussin’ at yer, chile; I’m jes’ visin’ uv yer fur yer good; caze hit’s yer bedtime, an’ dem puppies will likely holler all night.”

“Then we will sit up all night,” said Diddie, in her determined way.  “I’m like Dumps; I’m not going to bed an’ leave ’im cryin’.”

So Mammy drew her shawl over her head and lay back in her chair for a nap, while Diddie and Dumps took the little dogs in their arms and sat before the fire rocking; and Chris and Dilsey and Riar all squatted on the floor around the fender, very much interested in the process of getting the puppies quiet.

Presently Dumps began to sing: 

“Ef’n ’ligion was er thing that money could buy,
  O reign, Marse Jesus, er reign;
De rich would live, an’ de po’ would die,
  O reign, Marse Jesus, er reign.

    Chorus.

    O reign, reign, reign, er my Lord,
      O reign, Marse Jesus, er reign: 
    O reign, reign, reign, er my Lord,
      O reign, Marse Jesus, er reign.

But de Lord he ’lowed he wouldn’t have it so,
  O reign, Marse Jesus, er reign;
So de rich mus’ die jes’ same as de po’,
  O reign, Marse Jesus, er reign.”

This was one of the plantation hymns with which Mammy often used to sing Tot to sleep, and all the children were familiar with the words and air; so now they all joined in the singing, and very sweet music it was.  They had sung it through several times, and the puppies, finding themselves so outdone in the matter of noise, had curled up in the children’s laps and were fast asleep, when Diddie interrupted the chorus to ask: 

“Dumps, what are you goin’ ter name your doggie?”

“I b’lieve I’ll name ’im ‘Papa,’” replied Dumps, “because he give ’im ter me.”

“‘Papa,’ indeed!” said Diddie, contemptuously; “that’s no name for a dog; I’m goin’ ter name mine after some great big somebody.”

“Lord-ee!  I tell yer, Miss Diddie; name ’im Marse Samson, atter de man w’at Mammy wuz tellin’ ‘bout totin’ off de gates,” said Dilsey.

“No yer don’t, Miss Diddie; don’t yer name ’im no sich,” said Chris; “le’s name im’ Marse Whale, w’at swallered de man an’ nuber chawed ’im.”