Pete. What? dem tings—dem?—getaway [makes blow at the Children.] Born here! dem darkies! What, on Terrebonne? Don't b'lieve it, Mas'r George,—no. One morning dey swarmed on a sassafras tree in de swamp, and I cotched 'em all in a sieve.—dat's how dey come on top of dis yearth—git out, you,—ya, ya! [Laughs.]
[Exit Grace, R. U. E.
Enter Mrs. Peyton, from house.
Mrs. P. So, Pete, you are spoiling those children as usual!
Pete. Dat's right, missus! gib it to ole Pete! he's allers in for it. Git away dere! Ya! if dey aint all lighted, like coons, on dat snake fence, just out of shot. Look dar! Ya! ya! Dem debils. Ya!
Mrs. P. Pete, do you hear?
Pete. Git down dar!—I'm arter you!
[Hobbles off, R. 1. E.
Mrs. P. You are out early this morning, George.
George. I was up before daylight. We got the horses saddled, and galloped down the shell road over the Piney Patch; then coasting the Bayou Lake, we crossed the long swamps, by Paul's Path, and so came home again.