well as
from Mammy, and carried it to their guest in the pick-room. He was truly
glad to see them, and to get the nice breakfast they had brought; and
the little girls, having now lost all fear of him, sat down on a pile of
cotton to have a talk with him.

"Did you always b'long to Mr. Tight-fis' Smith?" asked Diddie.

"No, honey; he bought me fum de Powell 'state, an' I ain't b'longst ter
him no mo'n 'boutn fo' years."

[Illustration: "BRINGIN' 'IM THE PICNIC."]

"Is he got any little girls?" asked Dumps.

"No, missy; his wife an' two chil'en wuz bu'nt up on de steamboat gwine
ter New 'Leans, some twenty years ergo; an' de folks sez dat's wat makes
'im sich er kintankrus man. Dey sez fo' dat he usen ter hab meetin' on
his place, an' he wuz er Christyun man hisse'f; but he got mad 'long er
de Lord caze de steamboat bu'nt up, an' eber sence dat he's been er
mighty wicked man; an' he won't let none er his folks sarve de Lord; an'
he don't 'pyear ter cyar fur nuffin' 'cep'n hit's money. But den, honey,
he ain't no born gemmun, nohow; he's jes only er oberseer wat made 'im
er little money, an' bought 'im er few niggers; an', I tells yer, he
makes 'em wuck, too; we'se got ter be in de fiel' long fo' day; an' I
oberslep' mysef tudder mornin' an' he wuz cussin' an' er gwine on, an'
'lowed he wuz er gwine ter whup me, an' so I des up an' runned erway fum
'im, an' now I'se skyeert ter go back; an', let erlone dat, I'se skyeert
ter stay; caze, efn he gits Mr. Upson's dogs, dey'll trace me plum
hyear; an' wat I is ter do I dunno; I jes prays constunt ter de Lord.
He'll he'p me, I reckon, caze I prays tree times eby day, an' den in
'tween times."

"Is your name Brer Dan'l?" asked Dumps, who remembered Uncle Bob's story
of Daniel's praying three times a day.

"No, honey, my name's Pomp; but den I'm er prayin' man, des same ez
Dan'l wuz."

"Well, Uncle Pomp," said Diddie, "you stay here just as long as you can,
an' I'll ask papa to see Mr. Tight-fis' Smith, an' he'll get--"

"Lor', chile," interrupted Uncle Pomp, "don't tell yer pa nuf'n 'boutn
it; he'll sho' ter sen' me back, an' dat man'll beat me half ter def:
caze I'se mos' loss er week's time now, an' hit's er mighty 'tickler
time in de crap."

"But, s'posin' the dogs might come?" said Dumps.

"Well, honey, dey ain't come yit; an' wen dey duz come, den hit'll be
time fur ter tell yer pa."

"Anyhow, we'll bring you something to eat," said Diddie, "and try and
help