the END of Nettie Herbert."

"Oh, dear me!" she sighed, when she had finished, "I am tired of
writin' books; Dumps, sposin' you make up 'bout the 'Bad Little Girl,'
an' I'll write it down jes like you tell me."

"All right," assented Dumps, once more leaving her dolls, and coming
to the table. Then, after thinking for a moment, she began, with great
earnestness:

"Once pun er time there was er bad little girl, an' she wouldn't min'
nobody, nor do no way nobody wanted her to; and when her mother went
ter give her fyssick, you jes ought ter seen her cuttin' up! she
skweeled, an' she holler'd, an' she kicked, an' she jes done ev'y bad
way she could; an' one time when she was er goin' on like that the
spoon slipped down her throat, an' choked her plum ter death; an' not
long after that, when she was er playin' one day--"

"Oh, but, Dumps," interrupted Diddie, "you said she was dead."

"No, I nuver said nuthin' 'bout her bein' dead," replied Dumps; "an'
ef you wrote down that she's dead, then you wrote a story, 'cause
she's livin' as anybody."

"You said the spoon choked her to death," said Diddie.

"Well, hit nuver killed her, anyhow," said Dumps; "hit jes only give
her spasums; an' now you've gone and put me all out; what was I
sayin'?"