At last, about two o’clock, they reached Mr. Smith’s place.  The hands had just gone out into the field after dinner, and of course their master who was only a small planter and kept no overseer, was with them.  The children found the doors all open, and went in.

The house was a double log-cabin, with a hall between, and they entered the room on the right, which seemed to be the principal living-room.  There was a shabby old bed in one corner, with the cover all disarranged, as if its occupant had just left it.  A table, littered with unwashed dishes, stood in the middle of the floor, and one or two rude split-bottomed chairs completed the furniture.

The little girls were frightened at the unusual silence about the place, as well as the dirt and disorder, but, being very tired, they sat down to rest.

“Diddie,” asked Dumps, after a little time, “ain’t yer scared?”

“I don’t think I’m scared, Dumps,” replied Diddie; “but I’m not right comfor’ble.”

“I’m scared,” said Dumps.  “I’m jes ez fraid of Mr. Tight-fis’ Smith!”

“Dat’s hit!” said Dilsey.  “Now yer talkin’, Miss Dumps; dat’s er mean white man, an, he might er get mad erlong us, an’ take us all fur his niggers.”

“But we ain’t black, Diddie an’ me,” said Dumps.

“Dat don’t make no diffunce ter him; he des soon hab white niggers ez black uns,” remarked Diddie, consolingly; and Dumps, being now thoroughly frightened, said,

“Well, I’m er goin’ ter put my pen’ence in de Lord.  I’m er goin’ ter pray.”

Diddie and Dilsey thought this a wise move, and, the three children kneeling down, Dumps began,

  “Now, I lay me down to sleep.”

And just at this moment Mr. Smith, returning from the field, was surprised to hear a voice proceeding from the house, and, stepping lightly to the window, beheld, to his amazement, the three children on their knees, with their eyes tightly closed and their hands clasped, while Dumps was saying, with great fervor,

  “If I should die before I wake,
   I pray the Lord my soul to take;
   An’ this I ask for Jesus’ sake.”

“Amen!” reverently responded Diddie and Dilsey; and they all rose from their knees much comforted.

“I ain’t ’fraid uv him now,” said Dumps, “’cause I b’lieve the Lord’ll he’p us, an’ not let Mr. Tight-fis’ Smith git us.”

“I b’lieve so too,” said Diddie; and, turning to the window, she found Mr. Smith watching them.

“Are you Mr. Tight-fis’ Smith?” asked Diddie, timidly.

“I am Mr. Smith, and I have heard that I am called ‘tight-fisted’ in the neighborhood,” he replied, with a smile.

“Well, we are Major Waldron’s little girls, Diddie and Dumps, an’ this is my maid Dilsey, an’ we’ve come ter see yer on business.”

“On business, eh?” replied Mr. Smith, stepping in at the low window.  “Well, what’s the business, little ones?” and he took a seat on the side of the bed, and regarded them curiously.  But here Diddie stopped, for she felt it was a delicate matter to speak to this genial, pleasant-faced old man of cruelty to his own slaves.  Dumps, however, was troubled with no such scruples; and, finding that Mr. Smith was not so terrible as she hid feared, she approached him boldly, and, standing by his side, she laid one hand on his gray head, and said: