So, after a little more study and thought, Diddie wound up the story thus: “Once ’twas er little girl, so wicked and horrid, Till the cow run his horns right slap through her forrid, And throwed her to hebn all full of her sin, And, the gate bein open, he pitched her right in.” And that was “The END of the Bad Little Girl.” “Now there’s jes one mo’ tale,” said Diddie, “and that’s about ‘Annie’s Visit,’ an I’m tired of makin’ up books; Chris, can’t you make up that?” “I dunno hit,” said Chris, “but I kin tell yer ’bout’n de tar baby, el dat’ll do.” “Don’t you think that’ll do jes as well, Dumps?” asked Diddie. “Certingly!” replied Dumps. So Diddie drew her pencil through “Annie’s Visit,” and wrote in its place, “THE TAR BABY,” and Chris began: “Once pun a time, ’twuz er ole Rabbit an’ er ole Fox and er ole Coon: an’ dey all lived close togedder; an’ de ole Fox he had him er mighty fine goober-patch, w’at he nuber ’low nobody ter tech; an’ one mornin’ atter he git up, an’ wuz er walkin’ ’bout in his gyarden, he seed tracks, an’ he foller de tracks, an’ he see wahr sumbody ben er grabhin’ uv his goobers. An’ ev’y day he see de same thing; an’ he watch, an’ he watch, an’ he couldn’t nubber catch nobody! an’ he went, he did, ter de Coon, and he sez, sezee, ‘Brer Coon, dar’s sumbody stealin’ uv my goobers.’ “‘Well,’ sez Brer Coon, sezee, ‘I bet yer hit’s Brer Rabbit.’ “‘I lay I’ll fix ’im,’ sez Brer Fox; so he goes, he does, and he tuck’n made er man out’n tar, an’ he sot ’im, he did, right in de middle uv de goober-patch. Well, sar, soon ez eber de moon riz, Brer Rabbit, he stole out’n his house, and he lit right out fur dem goobers; and by’mby he sees de tar man er stanin’ dar, an’ he hollers out, ‘Who’s dat er stanin’ dar an’ er fixin’ ter steal Brer Fox’s goobers?’ Den he lis’en, and nobody nuver anser, and he ’gin ter git mad, and he sez, sezee, ‘Yer brack nigger you, yer better anser me wen I speaks ter yer;’ and wid dat he hault off, he did, and hit de tar baby side de head, and his han’ stuck fas’ in de tar. Now yer better turn me er loose,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee; I got er nuther han’ lef’,’ and ’ker bum’ he come wid his udder han’, on de tar baby’s tuther jaw, an’ dat han’ stuck. “‘Look er hyear! who yer foolin’ wid?’ sez Brer Rabbit; ‘I got er foot yit.’ Den he kick wid all his might, an’ his foot stuck. Den he kick wid his udder foot, an’ dat stuck. Den Brer Rabbit he ’gun ter git madder’n he wuz, an’ sezee, ‘Ef yer fool ’long o’ me mun I’ll butt de life out’n yer,” an’ he hault off wid his head, an’ butt de tar baby right in de chis, an’ his head stuck. Dar he wuz! an’ dar he had ter stay, till, by’mby, Brer Fox he come er long, an’ he seed de Rabbit er stickin’ dar, an’ he tuck him up, an’ he cyard ’im long ter Brer Coon’s house, an’ he sez, sezee, “‘Brer Coon, hyear’s de man wat stole my goobers; now wat mus’ I do wid ’im?’