“Well,” began Uncle Bob, “hit wuz all erlong er de jay bird, jes ez I wuz tellin’ yer. Yer see, Mr. Jay Bird he fell’d in love, he did, ’long o’ Miss Robin, an’ he wuz er courtin’ her, too; ev’y day de Lord sen’, he’d be er gwine ter see her, an’ er singin’ ter her, an’ er cyarin’ her berries an’ wums; hut, somehow or udder, she didn’t pyear ter tuck no shine ter him. She’d go er walkin’ ’long ’im, an’ she’d sing songs wid ’im, an’ she’d gobble up de berries an’ de wums wat he fotch, but den w’en hit come ter marry’n uv ’im, she wan’t der.
“Well, she wouldn’t gib ’im no kin’ er ’couragement, tell he got right sick at his heart, he did; an’ one day, ez he wuz er settin’ in his nes’ an’ er steddin how ter wuck on Miss Robin so’s ter git her love, he hyeard somebody er laughin’ an’ talkin’, an’ he lookt out, he did, an’ dar wuz Miss Robin er prumurradin’ wid de Woodpecker. An’ wen he seed dat, he got pow’ful mad, an’ he ’low’d ter his se’f dat efn de Lord spar’d him, he inten’ fur ter fix dat Woodpecker.
“In dem times de Woodpecker’s head wuz right black, same ez er crow, an’ he had er topknot on ’im like er rooster. Gemmun, he wuz er han’sum bird, too. See ’im uv er Sunday, wid his ‘go-ter-meetin’’ cloze on, an’ dar wan’t no bird could totch ’im fur looks.
“Well, he an’ Miss Robin dey went on by, er laffin’ an’ er talkin’ wid one ernudder; an’ de Jay he sot dar, wid his head turnt one side, er steddin an’ er steddin ter hisse’f; an’ by’mby, atter he made up his min’, he sot right ter wuck, he did, an’ fix him er trap.
“He got ’im some sticks, an’ he nailt ’em cross’n ’is do’ same ez er plank-fence, only he lef’ space ’nuff twix’ de bottom stick an’ de nex’ one fur er bird ter git thu; den, stid er nailin’ de stick nex’ de bottom, he tuck’n prope it up at one een wid er little chip fur ter hole it, an’ den jes res’ tudder een ’gins de side er de nes’. Soon’s eber he done dat, he crawlt out thu de crack mighty kyeerful, I tell yer, caze he wuz fyeared he mout er knock de stick down, an’ git his own se’f cotch in de trap; so yer hyeard me, mum, he crawlt thu mighty tick’ler.
“Atter he got thu, den he santer ’long, he did, fur ter hunt up de Woodpecker; an’ by’mby he hyeard him peckin’ at er log; an’ he went up ter him kin’ er kyeerless, an’ he sez, ‘Good-mornin’,’ sezee; ‘yer pow’ful busy ter day.’
“Den de Woodpecker he pass de kempulmence wid ’im, des same ez any udder gemmun; an’ atter dey talk er wile, den de Blue Jay he up’n sez, ‘I wuz jes er lookin’ fur yer,’ sezee; ‘I gwine ter hab er party termorrer night, an’ I’d like fur yer ter come. All de birds’ll be dar, Miss Robin in speshul,’ sezee.
“An’ wen de Woodpecker hyearn dat, he ’lowed he’d try ter git dar. An’ den de Jay he tell him good-mornin’, an’ went on ter Miss Robin’s house. Well, hit pyeart like Miss Robin wuz mo’ cole dan uzhul dat day, an’ by’mby de Jay Bird, fur ter warm her up, sez, ‘Yer lookin’ mighty hansum dis mornin’,’ sezee. An’ sez she, ‘I’m proud ter hyear yer say so; but, speakin’ uv hansum,’ sez she, ‘hev yer seed Mr. Peckerwood lately?’
“Dat made de Blue Jay kint er mad; an’ sezee, ‘Yer pyear ter tuck er mighty intrus’ in ’im.’
“‘Well, I dunno ’bout’n dat,’ sez Miss Robin, sez she, kinter lookin’ shame. ‘I dunno ’boutn dat; but, den I tink he’s er mighty hansum bird,’ sez she.
“Well, wid dat de Jay Bird ’gun ter git madder’n he wuz, an’ he ’lowed ter hisse’f dat he’d ax Miss Robin ter his house, so’s she could see how he’d fix de Peckerwood; so he sez,
“‘Miss Robin, I gwine ter hab er party termorrer night; de Woodpecker’ll be dar, an’ I’d like fur yer ter come.’
“Miss Robin ’lowed she’d come, and’ de Jay Bird tuck his leave.
“Well, de nex’ night de Jay sot in ’is nes’ er waitin’ fur ’is cump’ny; an’ atter er wile hyear come de Woodpecker. Soon’s eber he seed de sticks ercross de do’, he sez, ‘Wy, pyears like yer ben er fixin’ up,’ sezee. ‘Ain’t yer ben er buildin’?’
“‘Well,’ sez de Jay Bird, ‘I’ve jes put er few ’provemunce up, fur ter keep de scritch-owls outn my nes’; but dar’s plenty room fur my frien’s ter git thu; jes come in,’ sezee; an’ de Woodpecker he started thu de crack. Soon’s eber he got his head thu, de Jay pullt de chip out, an’ de big stick fell right crossn his neck. Den dar he wuz, wid his head in an’ his feet out! an’ de Jay Bird ’gun ter laff, an’ ter make fun atn ’im. Sezee, ‘I hope I see yer! Yer look like sparkin’ Miss Robin now! hit’s er gre’t pity she can’t see yer stretched out like dat; an’ she’ll be hyear, too, d’rectly; she’s er comin’ ter de party,’ sezee, ‘an’ I’m gwine ter gib her er new dish; I’m gwine ter sot her down ter roas’ Woodpecker dis ebenin’. An’ now, efn yer’ll ’scuse me, I’ll lef’ yer hyear fur ter sorter ’muse yerse’f wile I grin’s my ax fur ten’ ter yer.’
“An’ wid dat de Jay went out, an’ lef’ de po’ Woodpecker er lyin’ dar; an’ by’mby Miss Robin come erlong; an’ wen she seed de Woodpecker, she axt ’im ‘wat’s he doin’ down dar on de groun’?’ an’ atter he up an’ tol’ her, an’ tol’ her how de Jay Bird wuz er grin’in’ his ax fur ter chop offn his head, den de robin she sot to an’ try ter lif’ de stick offn him. She straint an’ she straint, but her strengt’ wan’t ’nuff fur ter move hit den; an’ so she sez, ‘Mr. Woodpecker,’ sez she, ‘s’posin’ I cotch hold yer feet, an’ try ter pull yer back dis way?’ ‘All right,’ sez de Woodpecker; an’ de Robin, she cotch er good grip on his feet, an’ she brace herse’f up ’gins er bush, an’ pullt wid all her might, an’ atter er wile she fotch ’im thu; but she wuz bleeged ter lef’ his topnot behin’, fur his head wuz skunt des ez clean ez yer han’; ’twuz jes ez raw, honey, ez er piece er beef.
“An’ wen de Robin seed dat, she wuz mighty ’stressed; an’ she tuck his head an’ helt it gins her breas’ fur ter try an’ cumfut him, an’ de blood got all ober her breas’, an’ hit’s red plum tell yit.
“Well, de Woodpecker he went erlong home, an’ de Robin she nusst him tell his head got well; but de topknot wuz gone, an’ it pyeart like de blood all settled in his head, caze fum dat day ter dis his head’s ben red.”
“An’ did he marry the Robin?” asked Diddie.
“Now I done tol’ yer all I know,” said Uncle Bob. “I gun yer de tale jes like I hyearn it, an’ I ain’t er gwine ter make up nuffin’, an’ tell yer wat I dunno ter be de truff. Efn dar’s any mo’ ter it, den I ain’t neber hyearn hit. I gun yer de tale jes like hit wuz gunt ter me, an’ efn yer ain’t satisfied wid hit, den I can’t holp it.”
“But we are satisfied, Uncle Bob,” said Diddie. “It was a very pretty tale, and we are much obliged to you.”
“Yer mo’n welcome, honey,” said Uncle Bob, soothed by Diddie’s answer—“yer mo’n welcome; but hit’s gittin’ too late fur you chil’en ter be out; yer’d better be er gittin’ toerds home.”
Here the little girls looked at each other in some perplexity, for they knew Diddie had been missed, and they were afraid to go to the house.
“Uncle Bob,” said Diddie, “we’ve done er wrong thing this evenin’; we ran away fum Miss Carrie, an’ we’re scared of papa; he might er lock us all up in the library, an’ talk to us, an’ say he’s ’stonished an’ mortified, an’ so we’re scared to go home.”
“Umph!” said Uncle Bob; “you chil’en is mighty bad, anyhow.”
“I think we’re heap mo’ better’n we’re bad,” said Dumps.
“Well, dat mout er be so,” said the old man;
“I ain’t er ’sputin it, but you chil’en comes fum or mighty high-minded stock uv white folks, an’ hit ain’t becomin’ in yer fur ter be runnin’ erway an’ er hidin’ out, same ez oberseer’s chil’en, an’ all kin’ er po’ white trash.”
“We are sorry about it now, Uncle Bob,” said Diddie; “but what would you ’vise us to do?”
“Well, my invice is dis,” said Uncle Bob, “fur ter go ter yer pa, an’ tell him de truff; state all de konkumstances des like dey happen; don’t lebe out none er de facks; tell him you’re sorry yer ’haved so onstreperous, an’ ax him fur ter furgib yer; an’ ef he do, wy dat’s all right; an’ den ef he don’t, wy yer mus’ ’bide by de kinsequonces. But fuss, do, fo’ yer axes fur furgibness, yer mus’ turn yer min’s ter repintunce. Now I ax you chil’en dis, Is—you—sorry—dat—you—runned—off? an’—is—you—’pentin’—uv—wadin’—in—de—ditch?”
Uncle Rob spoke very slowly and solemnly, and in a deep tone; and Diddie, feeling very much as if she had been guilty of murder, replied,
“Yes, I am truly sorry, Uncle Bob.”
Dumps and Tot and the three little darkies gravely nodded their heads in assent.
“Den jes go an’ tell yer pa so,” said the old man. “An’, anyway, yer’ll hatter be gwine, caze hit’s gittin’ dark.”
The little folks walked off slowly towards the house, and presently Dumps said,
“Diddie, I don’t b’lieve I’m rael sorry we runned off, an’ I don’t right ’pent ’bout wadin’ in the ditch, cause we had er mighty heap er fun; an’ yer reckon ef I’m jes sorter sorry, an’ jes toler’ble ’pent, that’ll do?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Diddie; “but I’m right sorry, and I’ll tell papa fur all of us.”
The children went at once to the library, where Major Waldron was found reading.
“Papa,” said Diddie, “we’ve ben very bad, an’ we’ve come ter tell yer ’bout it.”
“An’ the Jay Bird, he tol’ the deb’l,” put in Dumps, “an’ ’twan’t none er his business.”
“Hush up, Dumps,” said Diddie, “till I tell papa ’bout it. I wouldn’t say my lesson, papa, an’ Miss Carrie locked me up, an’ the chil’en brought me my dinner.”
“’Tuz me,” chimed in Tot. “I b’ing ’er de besses dinner—take an’ jam an’ pud’n in de p’ate. Aunt Mawy dum tum me.”
“Hush, Tot,” said Diddie, “till I get through. An’ then, papa, I climbed out the winder on the step-ladder, an’ I—”
“Dilsey an’ Chris got the ladder,” put in Dumps.
“HUSH UP, Dumps!” said Diddie; “you’re all time ’ruptin’ me.”
“I reckon I done jes bad ez you,” retorted Dumps, “an’ I got jes much right ter tell ’boutn it. You think nobody can’t be bad but yerse’f.”
“Well, then, you can tell it all,” said Diddie, with dignity. “Papa, Dumps will tell you.”
And Dumps, nothing daunted, continued:
“Dilsey an’ Chris brought the step-ladder, an’ Diddie clum out; an’ we runned erway in the woods, an’ waded in the ditch, an’ got all muddy up; an’ the Jay Bird, he was settin’ on er limb watchin’ us, an’ he carried the news ter the deb’l; an’ Uncle Snake-bit Bob let us go ter his shop, an’ tol’ us ’bout the Woodpecker’s head, an’ that’s all; only we ain’t n-e-v-er goin’ ter do it no mo’; an’, oh yes, I furgot—an’ Diddie’s rael sorry an’ right ’pents; an’ I’m sorter sorry, an’ toler’ble ’pents. An’, please, are you mad, papa?”
“It was certainly very wrong,” said her father, “to help Diddie to get out, when Miss Carrie had locked her in; and I am surprised that Diddie should need to be kept in. Why didn’t you learn your lesson, my daughter?”
“I did,” answered Diddie; “I knew it every word; but Miss Carrie jus’ cut up, an’ wouldn’t let me say it like ’twas in the book; an’ she laughed at me; an’ then I got mad, an’ wouldn’t say it at all.”
“Which lesson was it?” asked Major Waldron.
“’Twas er hist’ry lesson, an’ the question was, ‘Who was Columbus?’ an’ the answer was, ‘He was the son of er extinguished alligator,’ an’ Miss Carrie laughed, an’ said that wan’t it.”
“And I rather think Miss Carrie was right,” said the father. “Go and bring me the book.”
Diddie soon returned with her little history, and, showing the passage to her father, said eagerly,
“Now don’t you see here, papa?”
And Major Waldron read, “He was the son of a distinguished navigator.” Then making Diddie spell the words in the book, he explained to her her mistake, and said he would like to have her apologize to Miss Carrie for being so rude to her.
This Diddie was very willing to do, and her father went with her to the sitting-room to find Miss Carrie, who readily forgave Diddie for her rebellion, and Dumps and Tot for interfering with her discipline. And that was a great deal more than Mammy did, when she saw the state of their shoes and stockings, and found that they had been wading in the ditch.
She slapped the little darkies, and tied red-flannel rags wet with turpentine round the children’s necks to keep them from taking cold, and scolded and fussed so that the little girls pulled the covers over their heads and went to sleep, and left her quarrelling.
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