But fuss, do, fo' yer axes fur furgibness, yer mus' turn yer min's ter
repintunce. Now I ax you chil'en dis, Is-- you-- sorry-- dat-- you--
runned-- off? an'-- is-- you-- 'pentin'-- uv-- wadin'-- in-- de--
ditch?"
Uncle Rob spoke very slowly and solemnly, and in a deep tone; and
Diddie, feeling very much as if she had been guilty of murder,
replied,
"Yes, I am truly sorry, Uncle Bob."
Dumps and Tot and the three little darkies gravely nodded their heads
in assent.
"Den jes go an' tell yer pa so," said the old man. "An', anyway,
yer'll hatter be gwine, caze hit's gittin' dark."
The little folks walked off slowly towards the house, and presently
Dumps said,
"Diddie, I don't b'lieve I'm rael sorry we runned off, an' I don't
right 'pent 'bout wadin' in the ditch, cause we had er mighty heap er
fun; an' yer reckon ef I'm jes sorter sorry, an' jes toler'ble 'pent,
that'll do?"
"I don't know about that," said Diddie; "but I'm right sorry, and I'll
tell papa fur all of us."
The children went at once to the library, where Major Waldron was
found reading.
"Papa," said Diddie, "we've ben very bad, an' we've come ter tell yer
'bout it."
"An' the Jay Bird, he tol' the deb'l," put in Dumps, "an' 'twan't none
er his business."
"Hush up, Dumps," said Diddie, "till I tell papa 'bout it.
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