of her, an' there's only six lines to wind up in; an' she's only a
little girl, an' she can't get married; besides, there ain't any prince
in Nu Orlins. No, somethin' will have to happen to her. I tell you, I
b'lieve I'll make a runaway horse run over her goin' home."

"Oh, no, Diddie, please don't," entreated Dumps; "po' little Nettie,
don't make the horse run over her."

"I'm _obliged to_, Dumps; you mustn't be so tender-hearted; she's got
ter be wound up somehow, an' I might let the Injuns scalp her, or the
bears eat her up, an' I'm sure that's a heap worse than jes er horse
runnin' over her; an' then you know she ain't no sho' nuff little girl;
she's only made up out of my head."

"I don't care, I don't want the horse to run over her. I think it's bad
enough to make her give 'way all her candy an' little tubs an' iuns an'
wheelbarrers, without lettin' the horses run over her; an' ef that's
the way you're goin' ter do, I sha'n't have nuthin' 'tall ter do with
it."

And Dumps, having thus washed her hands of the whole affair, went back
to her dolls, and Diddie resumed her writing:

"As she was agoin along, presently she herd sumthin cumin
book-er-ty-book, book-er-ty-book, and there was a big horse and a buggy
cum tearin down the road, and she ran jes hard as she could; but befo
she could git out er the way, the horse ran rite over her, and killed
her, and all the people took her up and carried her home, and put
flowers all on her, and buried her at the church, and played the organ
'bout her; and that's