XXXI
"IN SOME LADY'S GARDEN"
When the little boy next visited Uncle Remus the old man was engaged in the somewhat tedious operation of making shoe-pegs. Daddy Jack was assorting a bundle of sassafras roots, and Aunt Tempy was transforming a meal-sack into shirts for some of the little negroes,—a piece of economy of her own devising. Uncle Remus pretended not to see the child.
"Hit's des lak I tell you all," he remarked, as if renewing a conversation; "I monst'us glad dey ain't no bad chilluns on dis place fer ter be wadin' in de spring-branch, en flingin' mud on de yuther little chilluns, w'ich de goodness knows dey er nasty nuff bidout dat. I monst'us glad dey ain't none er dat kinder young uns 'roun' yer—I is dat."
"Now, Uncle Remus," exclaimed the little boy, in an injured tone, "somebody's been telling you something on me."
The old man appeared to be very much astonished.
"Heyo! whar you bin hidin', honey? Yer 't is mos' way atter supper en you ain't in de bed yit. Well—well—well! Sit over ag'in in de chimbly jam dar whar you kin dry dem shoes. En de ve'y nex' time w'at I see you wadin' in dat branch, wid de sickly season comin' on, I'm a-gwine ter take you 'cross my shoulder en kyar you ter Miss Sally, en ef dat ain't do no good, den I'll kyar you ter Mars John, en ef dat ain't do no good, den I'm done wid you, so dar now!"
The little boy sat silent a long time, listening to the casual talk of Uncle Remus and his guests, and watching the vapor rise from his wet shoes. Presently there was a pause in the talk, and the child said:—
"Uncle Remus, have I been too bad to hear a story?"
The old man straightened himself up and pushed his spectacles back on his forehead.