"You ain't none o' my mother," replied Dumps. "You're mos' black ez my
shoes; an' de Lord ain't er goin' ter pull all my hair off jes 'boutn
you."

"I gwine right down-sta'rs an' tell yer ma," said Mammy. "She don't 'low
none o' you chil'en fur ter sass me, an' ter call me brack; she nuver
done it herse'f, wen she wuz little. I'se got ter be treated wid 'spec
myse'f; ef I don't, den hit's time fur me ter quit min'en chil'en: I
gwine tell yer ma."

And Mammy left the room in high dudgeon, but presently came back, and
said Dumps was to go to her mother at once.

"What is the matter with my little daughter?" asked her father, as she
came slowly down-stairs, crying bitterly, and met him in the hall.

"Mammy's ben er sa-a-as-sin me," sobbed Dumps; "an' she sa-aid de Lord
wuz goin' ter sen' an angel fur ter git my ha-air, an' she won't lem'me
go-o-o ter see de spec-ec-ec-erlaters."

"Well, come in mamma's room," said her father, "and we'll talk it all
over."

And the upshot of the matter was that Major Waldron said he would
himself take the children to the speculator's camp; and accordingly, as
soon as dinner was over, they all started off in high glee--the three
little girls and the three little negroes--leaving Mammy standing at the
top of the stairs, muttering to herself, "Er catchin' uv de measles an'
de hookin'-coffs."