"
"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
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.
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