"Aw, close yer trap," growled Ed. "Think you own the place!"
"Yer maw says you boys is wu'kin' hard."
Will, who possessed a good-natured sense of humor, chuckled appreciatively. "We sho' is! You know dat chicken-farm by de dam on Shadow Mountain, paw? We been wu'kin' powerful hard, an' dat's de Lawd's trufe!"
"We got fried chicken fo' supper, Tom," as Stella lifted the simmering pan with feigned indifference.
"An' dey ain't grow on no egg-plants, an' dat's a fack," continued Will.
"You'd a come in handy, paw, las' Sad'dy night," said Ed, who had recovered from his temporary ill-humor at Diana. "Ev'rybody's lef de place 'cep' club-foot Jake Simmons; dey lef him to watch. Me 'n' Banjo he'p'd him watch; we played poker, while de three boys poked off thuhteen hens an' a cockerel."
"And that isn't all that you all and 'Banjo' 'poke off,' either," interrupted Diana, her light brown face glowing a shade darker. "What would yo' paw say if I told him all I know?"
"What's dis? What's dis?" His explosive tones regained something of the former authority.
Stella laughed comfortably. "Nuthin' at all, Tom. Diana got a fool notion dat de boys been meddlin' wid cars at de Union Depot; dat's all."
Tom scratched his head in profound silence; the rest of the family watched him with differing emotions. At length he spoke unctuously. "De Lawd he put chicken-roos'eses an' melon-patches whar dey is easy to get at; it ain't nacheral for a nigger to let a hen suffer dis vale of tribulation, or let a melon grow ole an' useless on de vine. Cars is different. Cars is different. You boys ain't got kotched at nothin'?"