“O bless us, Lord!  O bless us, Lord! 
   O bless us now, we pray;
   Unless ye’ll come an’ bless us, Lord,
   We won’t leave hyear ter day. 
  “Deze chil’en, Lord; deze chil’en, Lord,
   O keep dey little feet
   Er gwine straight ter hebn, Lord,
   Fur ter walk dat golden street. 
  “O bless us, Lord!  O bless us, Lord! 
   O come in all yer might;
   Unless yer’ll come an’ bless us, Lord,
   We’ll wrestle hyear all night. 
  “Deze niggers, Lord; deze niggers, Lord,
   Dey skins is black, hit’s true,
   But den dey souls is white, my Lord,
   So won’t yer bless dem too? 
  “O bless us, Lord!  O bless us, Lord! 
   O bless us mo’ an’ mo’;
   Unless yer’ll come an’ bless us, Lord,
   We’ll keep yer hyear fur sho. 
  “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 you go to prayer-meetin’s; jes all time botherin’ me, an’ won’t lemme see de specerlaters, nor nothin’.”