Knowing that he would have to act alone, Uncle Remus proceeded very cautiously. He went around into the front yard, and saw that all the parlor windows were up and the curtains looped back, something that had never happened before in his experience. To his mind the parlor was a dungeon, and a very dark one at that, and he chuckled when he saw the sunshine freely admitted, with no fear that it would injure the carpet. If one little bit of a boy could cause such a change in immemorial custom, what would two little boys be able to do? With these and similar homely thoughts in his mind, Uncle Remus cut short his chuckle and began to sing about little Crickety Cricket, who lives in the thicket.
Naturally, this song attracted the attention of the little lad, who had exhausted whatever interest there had been in an album, and was now beginning to realize that he was a prisoner. He stuck his head out of the window, and regarded the old man rather ruefully. “I couldn’t go with you after the corn, Uncle Remus; mother said I was too naughty.”
“I ain’t been atter no corn, honey; I hear tell er yo’ gwines on, an’ I felt too bad fer ter go atter de corn; but de waggin’s all ready an’ a-waitin’. Dey ain’t no hurry ’bout dat corn. Ef you can’t go ter-day, maybe you kin go ter-morrer, er ef not, den some yuther day. Dey ain’t nobody hankerin’ atter corn but de ol’ gray mule, an’ he’d hanker an’ whicker fer it ef you wuz ter feed ’im a waggin-load three times a day. How come you ter be so bad dat yo’ ma hatter shet you up in dat dungeon? What you been doin’?”
“Mother said I was very naughty and made me come in here,” the little lad replied.
“I bet you ef dey had ’a’ put yo’ pa in der, dey wouldn’t ’a’ been no pennaner lef’, an’ de kyarpit would ’a’ looked like it been throo a harrycane. Dey shet ’im up in a room once, an’ dey wuz a clock in it, an’ he tuck ’n tuck dat clock ter pieces fer ter see what make it run. ’Twan’t no big clock, needer, but yo’ pa got nuff wheels out er dat clock fer ter fill a peck medjur, an’ when dey sont it ter town fer ter have it mended, de clock man say he know mighty well dat all dem wheels ain’t come outer dat clock. He mended it all right, but he had nuff wheels an’ whirligigs left over fer ter make a n’er clock.”
“There’s a clock in here,” said the little boy, “but it’s in a glass case.”
“Don’t pester it, honey, kaze it’s yo’ granma’s, an’ ’twant yo’ granma dat had you shot up in dar. No, suh, not her—never in de roun’ worl’.”
The little prisoner sighed, but said nothing. He was not a talkative chap; he had been taught that it is impolite to ask questions, and as a child’s conversation must necessarily be made up of questions, he had little to say. Uncle Remus found a rake leaning against the chimney. This he took and examined critically, and found that one of the teeth was broken out. “Now, I wonder who could ’a’ done dat!” he exclaimed. “Sholy nobody wouldn’t ’a’ come ’long an’ knock de toof out des fer fun. Ef de times wuz diffunt, I’d say dat a cricket hauled off an’ kicked it out wid one er his behime legs. But times done change; dey done change so dat when I turn my head an’ look back’erds, I hatter ketch my breff I gits so skeer’d. Dey done been sech a change dat de crickets ain’t dast ter kick sence ol’ Grandaddy Cricket had his great kickin’ match. I laid off fer ter tell you ’bout it when we wuz gwine atter dat load er corn dat’s waitin’ fer us; but stidder gwine atter corn, here you is settin’ in de parlor countin’ out yo’ money.” Uncle Remus came close to the window and looked in. “Ol’ Miss useter keep de Bible on de table dar—yasser! dar ’tis, de same ol’ Bible dat’s been in de fambly sence de year one. You better git it down, honey, an’ read dat ar piece ’bout de projickin’ son, kaze ef dey shet you up in de parlor now, dey’ll hatter put you in jail time youer ten year ol’.”
This remark was intended for the ear of the young mother, who had come into the front yard searching for roses. Uncle Remus had seen her from the corner of his eye, and he determined to talk so she could hear and understand.