"
"Amen!" reverently responded Diddie and Dilsey; and they all rose from
their knees much comforted.
"I ain't 'fraid uv him now," said Dumps, "'cause I b'lieve the Lord'll
he'p us, an' not let Mr. Tight-fis' Smith git us."
"I b'lieve so too," said Diddie; and, turning to the window, she found
Mr. Smith watching them.
"Are you Mr. Tight-fis' Smith?" asked Diddie, timidly.
"I am Mr. Smith, and I have heard that I am called 'tight-fisted' in
the neighborhood," he replied, with a smile.
"Well, we are Major Waldron's little girls, Diddie and Dumps, an' this
is my maid Dilsey, an' we've come ter see yer on business."
"On business, eh?" replied Mr. Smith, stepping in at the low window.
"Well, what's the business, little ones?" and he took a seat on the
side of the bed, and regarded them curiously. But here Diddie stopped,
for she felt it was a delicate matter to speak to this genial,
pleasant-faced old man of cruelty to his own slaves. Dumps, however,
was troubled with no such scruples; and, finding that Mr. Smith was
not so terrible as she hid feared, she approached him boldly, and,
standing by his side, she laid one hand on his gray head, and said:
"Mr. Smith, we've come ter beg you please not ter whup Uncle Pomp if
he comes back.
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