"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 er mighty high-minded stock uv white folks,