furgittin' yer manners, an' stuffin' yerse'f right fo' all de gemmuns.
Miss Diddie dar, she burhavt like er little lady, jes kinter foolin' wid
her knife an' fork, an' nuber eatin nuffin' hardly; an' dar you wuz jes
er pilin' in shotes an' lams an' squ'ls, an' roas'n yurs, an' pickles
an' puddin's an' cakes an' watermillions, tell I wuz dat shame fur ter
call yer marster's darter!"

And poor little Dumps, now that the enormity of her sin was brought home
to her, and the articles eaten so carefully enumerated, began to feel
very much like a boa-constrictor, and the tears fell from her eyes as
Mammy continued:

"I done nust er heap er chil'en in my time, but I ain't nuber seed no
wite chile eat fo de gemmuns like you duz. It pyears like I can't nuber
larn you no manners, nohow."

"Let de chile erlone, Sis Rachel," interposed Uncle Bob; "she ain't no
grown lady, an' I seed marster he'p'n uv her plate hisse'f; she nuber
eat none too much, consid'n hit wuz de Fourf uv July."

"Didn't I eat no shotes an' lambs, Uncle Bob?" asked Dumps, wiping her
eyes.

[Illustration: "SWINGING ON GRAPE-VINES AND RIDING ON SAPLINGS."]

"I don't b'lieve yer did," said Uncle Bob. "I seed yer eat er squ'l or
two, an' er few fish, likely, an' dem, wid er sprinklin' uv roas'n yurs
an' cakes, wuz de mos' wat I seed yer eat."

"An' dat wuz too much," said Mammy, "right befo' de gemmuns."