de day?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!
Who all de time er gittin' so sleepy he can't play?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!

"Byo, baby boy, bye--
Byo, li'l boy!
Oh, run ter 'is mammy,
En climb up en 'er lap--
Mammy's li'l baby boy!

"Who all de time stumpin' 'is toe ergin a rock?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!
Who all de time er rippin' big hole in 'is frock?
Mammy's li'l boy, mammy's li'l baby boy!

"Byo, baby boy, bye--
Byo, li'l boy!
En 'e run ter 'is mammy
Fer ter git 'im out er trouble--
Mammy's li'l baby boy!"

Dainty had sunk down in the easy-chair at the open window, and the
tender tears flashed into her eyes at the sweet domestic picture painted
by the loving old black mammy.

How beautiful it had sounded, the picture of the future to her fond
young heart; but would it ever come true, or would the malice of her
enemies yet come between her and happiness? Sad foreboding filled her
mind as she recalled Olive's black looks and cruel words while she
played the gypsy fortune-teller.

"She was trying to frighten me to death, and I believe she would have
succeeded, had not Love so fortunately discovered her identity," she
mused, while mammy crooned on monotonously with her nursery song.
Suddenly coming to herself, she cried:

"Dar now, I forgot mys'f, as I often do, and t'ought I was back in de
good ole times, nussin' de babies dat's all growed up now, an' some on
'em dead, too! But as I was a-sayin', Miss Dainty, deares', Massa Love
he kem down ter my darter's cabin dis arternoon, an' say, 'Well, well,
mammy, settin' in de sun an' bakin' yo' ole haid es usual! How it brings
up de chilehood days wheneber I see yo'! Here's a dollar fer yer, an'
some baccy fer yer pipe, an' mammy, I want yer ter do er favor fer yer
li'l boy.'

"When Massa Love speak dat coaxin' way he knows I gwine let him tromp on
ole black mammy ef he want ter; an' I nods, an' he goes on:

"'Mammy, I come to tole yer I gwine git married on my birfday--de first
o' August, yo' know. My sweetheart is a-visitin' at Ellsworf, an' she's
de prettiest girl in de world! Her cheeks is like roses, an' her hair is
bright like sunshine, an' her eyes blue as de dark vi'lets down in de
wood. An' she's good as she's pretty; but dem mean servants at Ellsworf
dey done tole her ghost stories, an' she's dat nervous she can'