"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 e'bything 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."
"YER'LL ALL BE HAVIN' DE CROUP NEXT."
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"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?"