As they were leaving the chapel after service, Dumps drew close to her mother and whispered, “Mamma, bein’ as this is Chris’mas an’ it’s rainin’, can’t we have some of the little quarter niggers to go to the house and play Injuns with us?” Mamma was about to refuse, for the little girls were not allowed to play with the quarter children; but Dumps looked very wistful, and, besides, Mammy would be with them in the nursery, so she consented, and each of the children were told that they might select one of the little negroes to play with them. Diddie took a little mulatto girl named Agnes. Dumps had so many favorites that it was hard for her to decide; but finally she selected Frances, a lively little darky, who could dance and pat and sing and shout, and do lots of funny things. Tot took Polly, a big girl of fourteen, who could, and sometimes did, take the little one on her back and trot around with her. She lifted her now to her shoulders, and, throwing her head up and snorting like a horse, started off in a canter to the house; while Diddie and Dumps, and Chris and Riar, and Agnes and Frances followed on behind, all barking like dogs, and making believe that Tot was going hunting and they were the hounds. “See, Mammy, here’s Agnes and Polly and Frances,” said Diddie, as they entered the nursery; “mamma let us have them, and they are to stay here a long time and play Injuns with us.” “Now, Miss Diddie, honey,” said Mammy, “Injuns is sich a sackremenchus play, an’ makes so much litter and fuss; git yer dolls, an’ play like er little lady.” “No, no, no,” interrupted Dumps; “we’re goin’ ter play Injuns! We’re goin’ ter make out we’re travellin’ in the big rockin’-cheer, goin’ ter New Orleans, an’ the little niggers is got ter be Injuns, hid all behin’ the trunks an’ beds an’ door; an’ after, we rock an’ rock er lo-o-ong time, then we’re goin’ ter make out it’s night, an’ stretch mamma’s big shawl over two cheers an’ make er tent, and be cookin’ supper in our little pots an’ kittles, an’ the little niggers is got ter holler, ‘Who-ee, who-eee,’ an’ jump out on us, an’ cut off our heads with er billycrow.” “How silly you do talk, Dumps!” said Diddie; “there ain’t any Injuns between here and New Orleans; we’ve got ter be goin’ to California, a far ways f’um here. An’ I don’t b’lieve there’s nothin’ in this world named er ‘_billycrow;_’ it’s er tommyhawk you’re thinkin’ about: an’ Injuns don’t cut off people’s heads; it was Henry the Eighth. Injuns jes’ cut off the hair and call it sculpin’, don’t they, Mammy?” “Lor’, chile,” replied Mammy, “I dunno, honey; I allers hyeard dat Injuns wuz monstrous onstreperous, an’ I wouldn’t play no sich er game.” But “Injuns, Injuns, Injuns!” persisted all the little folks, and Mammy had to yield.