“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.”

“There’s boun’ ter be boys in it, Dumps; you can’t write a book without’n boys;” and Diddie seated herself, and opened the book before her, while Dumps, with her elbows on the table and face in her hands, looked on anxiously.  “I’m not goin’ ter write jes one straight book,” said Diddie; “I’m goin’ ter have little short stories, an’ little pieces of poetry, an’ all kin’ of things; an’ I’ll name one of the stories ‘Nettie Herbert:’  don’t you think that’s a pretty name, Dumps?”

“Jes’ beautiful,” replied Dumps; and Diddie wrote the name at the beginning of the book.

“Don’t you think two pages on this big paper will be long enough for one story?” asked Diddie.

“Plenty,” answered Dumps.  So at the bottom of the second page Diddie wrote “The end of Nettie Herbert.”

“Now, what would you name the second story?” asked Diddie, biting her pencil thoughtfully.

“I’d name it ‘The Bad Little Girl,’” answered Dumps.

“Yes, that will do,” said Diddie, and she wrote “The Bad Little Girl” at the top of the third page; and, allowing two pages for the story, she wrote “The end of The Bad Little Girl” at the bottom of the next page.

“And now it’s time for some poetry,” said Diddie, and she wrote “Poetry” at the top of the fifth page, and so on until she had divided all of her book into places for stories and poetry.  She had three stories—­ “Nettie Herbert,” “The Bad Little Girl,” and “Annie’s Visit to her Grandma.”  She had one place for poetry, and two places she had marked “History;” for, as she told Dumps, she wasn’t going to write anything unless it was useful; she wasn’t going to write just trash.