“Now, honey, mek yo’ han’s min’ dey own business, or dey’ll git burnt,” said Mammy; “an’ Fred, you set right still dar on dat ar cheer!” “Well, long time ergo de debil he kim up ter de yeth, he did, an’ went courtin’ er gal.” “What’s courtin’?” asked Fred. “Talkin’ putty, lack yo’ Paw talk ter yo’ Maw ’fore dey was married,” said Mammy. “An’ de gal was er mighty fine gal, wid long straight hair an’ blue eyes, an’ she could sing—laws er mussy! how dat gal could sing! “Well, de debil ain’t heared no singin’ sence he was drapped in de bad place, an’ dey guv ’im de keys, an’ he was dat hongry fur singin’, he mek dat gal sing all de time, an’ he stan’ by de pianny, he did, an’ hide de foot dat got de hoof on hit. Yo’ know by dis time, he done los’ he tail, an’ w’ar er tall stovepipe, ’case he hatter keep up wid whi’ folks.” “How did he lose his tail?” asked both of the children at once. “Mammy cain’t tell yo’ now ’bout dat, but he done los’ hit. Anyway, he mek dat gal sing all day ter ’im, an’ de gal she was peart an’ lackly, an’ she sing twel her throat done plum dry, an’ de debil he see hit were gittin’ dark, an’ he say hit were time fur him ter go home. He was ’feared ’case hit were so late, an’ he herry, an’ herry, clop-flop, clop-flop—de man’s foot an’ de hoof foot keep him back, fur de hoof foot mek two steps ter de man’s one, an’ when he git home, he find dat his fire were done plum out. “Hit were er mighty sorry time fur de debil, ’case dar hain’t nobody gwine give him none nor len’ him none, an’ he cain’t steal hit hisse’f, on account er de hoof foot.” “Why didn’t he buy some matches in town?” asked Fred. “Didn’t hab no matches den, honey, an’ folkes hatter tote coals kivered wid ashes, fur miles an’ miles, if dey let de fire go out.” “’Count of the hoof foot,” repeated Margie, coming back to the story. “’Count er de hoof foot,” said Mammy, “so de debil castes ’roun’ who he gwine git fur ter steal hit fur him. “Fust he went ter de b’ar, an’ stan’ er long way off, ’case anybody kin beat de debil when his fire done out, an’ he say: ’Please, Mister B’ar, won’t yo’ fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?’ But de b’ar he growl, ’My hair’s too thick, an’ de fire’s too hot, an’ de road’s too long, an’ I ’feared I git het up, an’ die.’ “Kimmin’ back, he meet wid de rabbit, wid his mouf full er green, an’ de debil he say: ’Hello, Mister Rabbit! won’t yo’ fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?’ De rabbit he look meek an’ sad, an’ he ’low, ’I sorry, Mister Debil, but my baby chile’s done got er awful cramp, an’ I gwine fur ter mek him some catnip tea. Good-day, Mister Debil!’ an’ he lope right on, an’ de debil mek er mark whar de rabbit cross his path, an’ spit in hit. “Den he kim an’ knock at de tarrypin’s door, but de tarrypin don’t put more’n his nose outside, an’ de debil he ’low, ’Please Mister Tarrypin, won’t yo’ fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?’