“Uncle Bob,” asked Dumps, “what was that you was singin’ ’bout the jay bird?”
“Lor’, honey, hit wuz jes ’boutn ’im dyin’ wid de hookin’-coff; but yer better lef’ dem jay birds erlone; yer needn’ be er wantin’ ter hyear boutn ’em.”
“Why, Uncle Bob?”
“Caze, honey, dem jay birds dey cyars news ter de deb’l, dey do an’ yer better not fool ’long ’em.”
“Do they tell him everything?” asked Diddie, in some solicitude.
“Dat dey do! Dey tells ’im eb’ything dey see you do wat ain’t right; dey cyars hit right erlong ter de deb’l.”
“Uncle Bob,” said Dumps, thoughtfully, “s’posin’ they wuz some little girls l-o-n-g time ergo what stole ernuther little girl outn the winder, an’ then run’d erway, an’ waded in er ditch, what they Mammy never would let ’em; efn er jay bird would see ’em, would he tell the deb’l nuthin erbout it?”
“Lor’, honey, dat ’ud be jes nuts fur ’im; he’d light right out wid it; an’ he wouldn’t was’e no time, nuther, he’d be so fyeard he’d furgit part’n it.”
“I don’t see none ’bout hyear,” said Dumps, looking anxiously up at the trees. “They don’t stay ’bout hyear much does they, Uncle Bob?”
“I seed one er sittin’ on dat sweet-gum dar ez I come up de ditch,” said Uncle Bob. “He had his head turnt one side, he did, er lookin’ mighty hard at you chil’en, an’ I ’lowed ter myse’f now I won’er wat is he er watchin’ dem chil’en fur? but, den, I knowed you chil’en wouldn’t do nuffin wrong, an’ I knowed he wouldn’t have nuffin fur ter tell.”