dle
an' t'read w'at I put in dis cheer, ag'in' I wanted 'em, 'pear to hab
crope away some'ers; likewise dat ar leetle case knife w'at I cuts
leather wiv'. Dey's gone, an' I doan see dat chile Ralph 'round'
nowhere's."

Just at this point the door was pushed a little farther open and a
cheerful voice proclaimed: "Here me is, Doe!"

The voice was followed by its owner, little Ralph, but such a curious
spectacle the boy presented that the occupants of the room stared at
him a moment in amazed silence. Jessie was the first to recover her
power of speech and remonstrance:

"Ralph! Oh, what have you been doing, you naughty, naughty boy!"

It was evident that the little trespasser had not realized that his
recent occupation had been in any way objectionable. His lips began to
quiver, but he stood his ground manfully.

"Me isn't a notty, notty b'y, Jeppie. Me is a yittle 'orse, an' 'ese
are 'e yittle 'orse's ley bells."

"Sleigh bells! Didn't you know any better than to pull up all of
Joe's cantaloupes and string them on to threads--how you could do it I
can't imagine--to hang around your shoulders?"

"Dey isn't 'antelopes, Jeppie; dey's ley bells."

"How did you do it? Oh, you naughty--"

"Me did it wiv Doe's little knife an' Doe's needle an' t'read; an' me
hurted me's han's, me did."

The recollection gave him the excuse that he was longing for. The
string to one of his odd sets of sleigh-bells broke as he started
across the room, with outstretched arms, for Joe, and he left a trail
of small, hard, green melons as he ran. "Doe!" he cried, as the old
man lifted him tenderly to his breast, "me hurted me han's!" The howl
of anguish with which he repeated the statement was partially
smothered by reason of the sufferer's face being buried in Joe's neck.
"Jeppie say me is notty, notty b'y!" he continued, sobbing.

"Miss Jessie," the old man said, with dignity, looking disapprovingly
at his young mistress over the boy's shaking shoulders, "yo' means
well, honey; I ain' a doubtin' ob dat, but yo' done got er heap ter
learn 'bout managin' chillen. Yo's done hurted pore little Ralph's
feelin's mighty bad!"

"His feelings ought to be hurt!" Jessie persisted, indignantly. "A boy
who is old enough to do such a piece of mischief as that is old enough
to know better. And, Joe, it isn't right for you to encourage him in
it."

"Honey, hit ain' likely, now, is hit, dat any one has dish yer pore
little feller's good more at he