"But, Uncle Remus, I ain't bad," said the little boy plaintively.

"Who dat chunkin' dem chickens dis mawnin? Who dat knockin' out
fokes's eyes wid dat Yallerbammer sling des 'fo' dinner? Who dat
sickin' dat pinter puppy atter my pig? Who dat scatterin' my
ingun sets? Who dat flingin' rocks on top er my house, w'ich a
little mo' en one un em would er drap spang on my head?"

"Well, now, Uncle Remus, I didn't go to do it. I won't do so any
more. Please, Uncle Remus, if you will tell me, I'll run to the
house and bring you some tea-cakes."

"Seein' um's better'n hearin' tell un um, replied the old man,
the severity of his countenance relaxing somewhat; but the little
boy darted out, and in a few minutes came running back with his
pockets full and his hands full.

"I lay yo' mammy 'll 'spishun dat de rats' stummicks is widenin'
in dis neighborhood w'en she come fer ter count up 'er cakes,"
said Uncle Remus, with a chuckle. "Deze," he continued, dividing
the cakes into two equal parts--"dese I'll tackle now, en dese
I'll lay by fer Sunday.

"Lemme see. I mos' dis'member wharbouts Brer Fox en Brer Rabbit
wuz."

"The rabbit rode the fox to Miss Meadows's, and hitched him to
the horse-rack," said the little boy.

"W'y co'se he did," said Uncle Remus. "C'ose he did. Well, Brer