“Jes lis’en how yer talkin’,” said Mammy, “given’ me all dat sass.  You’re de sassies’ chile marster’s got.  Nobody can’t nuver larn yer no manners, allers 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 hyear 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, wan 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.”

And Mammy left the room in high dudgeon, but presently came back, and said Dumps was to go to her mother at once.

“What is the matter with my little daughter?” asked her father, as she came slowly downstairs, crying bitterly, and met him in the hall.

“Mammy’s ben er sa-a-as-sin me,” sobbed Dumps; “an’ she sa-aid de Lord wuz goin’ ter sen’ an angel fur ter git my ha-air, an’ she won’t lem’me go-o-o ter see de spec-ec-ec-erlaters.”

“Well, come in mamma’s room,” said her father, “and we’ll talk it all over.”

And the upshot of the matter was that Major Waldron said he would himself take the children to the speculator’s camp; and accordingly, as soon as dinner was over, they all started off in high glee—­ the three little girls and the three little negroes—­ leaving Mammy standing at the top of the stairs, muttering to herself, “Er catchin’ uv de measles an’ de hookin’-coffs.”

The speculator’s camp was situated on the bank of the creek, and a very bright scene it presented as Major Waldron and his party came up to it.  At a little distance from the main encampment was the speculator’s tent, and the tents for the negroes were dotted here and there among the trees.  Some of the women were sitting at the creek, others were cooking, and some were sitting in front of their tents sewing; numbers of little negroes were playing about, and, altogether, the “speculator’s camp” was not the horrible thing that one might suppose.

The speculator, who was a jolly-looking man weighing over two hundred pounds, came forward to meet Major Waldron and show him over the encampment.

The negroes were well clothed, well fed, and the great majority of them looked exceedingly happy.

They came across one group of boys and girls dancing and singing.  An old man, in another group, had collected a number of eager listeners around him, and was recounting some marvellous tale; but occasionally there would be a sad face and a tearful eye, and Mr. Waldron sighed as he passed these, knowing that they were probably grieving over the home and friends they had left.