"'Is it a good pie?' says she.
"'I guess so!' says I.
"'I'll buy it,' says she. 'Here's the money!' and she gives me a bright new ten-cent piece,—it was the first ever I had in my life,—and walked off quick and light before ever I could say a word. Well, now, sirs, if children ain't cur'us things! I was a slow child most ways,—ben slow all my life long, but it come over me then quick as winkin', she had paid for that pie, and it was hers, and she'd got to have it. I never said a word, but just toddled after down street, holdin' that mud pie as if it was Thanksgivin' mince. I couldn't catch up with her; she walked almighty fast them days, and my legs were short, but I kep' her red shawl in sight, and I see where she went in. Time I got up to the door it was shut, but I banged on it in good shape, and D'reckshy Hawkes come and opened it. She was allus sharp, D'reckshy was, and she couldn't abide no boys but her two, as she called 'em, Arthur and Willy, and they weren't neither one of 'em born then.
"'What do you want, boy?' she says, sharp enough.
"'I don't want nothin'!' says I. 'I brung the pie.'
"'What pie?' says she.
"'Her'n,' says I. 'She bought it off'n me; her that went in just now, with the red shawl.'
"D'reckshy looked me over, and looked at the pie. I make no doubt but she was just goin' to send me about my business, but before she could speak I heard Mis' Tree's voice. She had seen me from the window, I expect.
"'D'reckshy Hawkes,' she says, 'take that pie into the pantry and send the child to me.'
"'My sakes, Mis' Tree!' said D'reckshy, 'it ain't a pie; it's a mud pie!'