turnt his pockets wrong side outerds; an', less yer soul, chile, hit wuz
jes like I say; DAR WA'N'T NO BUCKEYES DAR! Well, I'd b'lieved in de ole
sayin' befo', but dat jes kinter sot me on it fas'er 'n eber; an' I
don't cyare wat de wedder is, nor wat de hurry is; hit may rain an' hit
may shine, an' de time may be er pressin', but ole Bob he don't stir
out'n his house mornin's 'cep'n he's got buckeyes in his pockets. But I
seed 'em gittin' ready fur dinner as I comed erlong, an' you chil'en
better be er gittin' toerds de table."

That was enough for the little folks, and they hurried back to the
creek. The table was formed by driving posts into the ground, and laying
planks across them, and had been fixed up the day before by some of the
men. The dinner was excellent--barbecued mutton and shote and lamb and
squirrels, and very fine "gumbo," and plenty of vegetables and
watermelons and fruits, and fresh fish which the negroes had caught in
the seine, for none of the anglers had been successful.

Everybody was hungry, for they had had very early breakfast, and,
besides, it had been a fatiguing day, for most of the negroes had walked
the three miles, and then had danced and played games nearly all the
morning, and so they were ready for dinner. And everybody seemed very
happy and gay except Mammy; she had been so upset at the children's torn
dresses and dirty faces that she could not regain her good-humor all at
once; and then, too, Dumps had lost her sun-bonnet, and there were some
unmistakable freckles across her little nose, and so Mammy looked very
cross, and grumbled a good deal, though her appetite seemed good, and
she did full justice to the barbecue.

Now Mammy had some peculiar ideas of her own as to the right and proper
way for ladies to conduct themselves, and one of her theories was that