"Yer'd better git outn dat water," he called, as soon as he saw the children. "Yer'll all be havin' de croup nex'. Git out, I tell yer! Efn yer don't, I gwine straight an' tell yer pa."
It needed no second bidding, and the little girls scrambled up the bank, and, drying their feet as best they could upon their skirts, they put on their shoes and stockings.
"What are you doin', Uncle Bob?" called Diddie.
"I'm jes er cuttin' me er few willers fur ter make baskit-handles outn."
"Can't we come an' look at yer?" asked Diddie.
"Yes, honey, efn yer wants ter," replied Uncle Bob, mightily pleased. "You're all pow'ful fon' er dis ole nigger; you're allers wantin' ter be roun' him."
"It's 'cause you always tell us tales, an' don't quar'l with us," replied Diddie, as the children drew near the old man, and watched him cut the long willow branches.
"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?"