e crop?" asked Mr. Smith, gently.

"But, indeed, he _is_ punished," said Diddie; "he was almost starved to
death when me and Dumps carried him the picnic; and then he is so
scared, he's been punished, Mr. Smith; so please let him come home, and
don't whup him."

"Yes, PLE-EE-ASE promise," said Dumps, tightening her hold on his neck;
and Mr. Smith, in memory of the little arms that once clung round him,
and the little fingers that in other days clasped his, said:

"Well, I'll promise, little ones. Pomp may come home, and I'll not whip
or punish him in any way;" and then he kissed them both, and said they
must have a lunch with him, and then he would take them home and bring
Pomp back; for he was astonished to learn that they had walked so long a
distance, and would not hear of their walking back, though Diddie
persisted that they must go, as they had stolen off, and nobody knew
where they were.

He made the cook bake them some hot corn hoe-cakes and boil them some
eggs; and while she was fixing it, and getting the fresh butter and
buttermilk to add to the meal, Mr. Smith took them to the June
apple-tree, and gave them just as many red apples as they wanted to eat,
and some to take home to Tot. And Dumps told him all about "Old Billy"
and Cherubim and Seraphim, and the old man laughed, and enjoyed it all,
for he had no relatives or friends, and lived entirely alone--a stern,
cold man, whose life had been embittered by the sudden loss of his loved
ones, and it had been many weary years since he had heard children's
voices chatting and laughing under the apple-tree.

After the lunch, which his guests enjoyed very much, Mr. Smith had a
little donkey brought out for Dilsey to ride, and, taking Diddie behind
him on his horse, and Dumps in his arms, he started with them for home.

There was but one saddle, so Dilsey was riding "bareback," and had to
sit astride of the donkey to keep from falling off, which so amused the
children that merry peals of laughter rang out from time to time;
indeed, Dumps laughed so much, that, if Mr. Smith had not held her
tightly, she certainly would have fallen off. But it was not very funny
to Dilsey; she held on with all her might to the donkey's short mane,
and even then could scarcely keep her seat. She was highly indignant
with the children for laughing at her, and said.

"I dunno wat yer kill'n yerse'f laffin' 'bout, got me er settin' on dis
hyear beas'; I ain't gwine wid yer no mo'."