“But we _are_ satisfied, Uncle Bob,” said Diddie. “It was a very pretty tale, and we are much obliged to you.” “Yer mo’n welcome, honey,” said Uncle Bob, soothed by Diddie’s answer—“yer mo’n welcome; but hit’s gittin’ too late fur you chil’en ter be out; yer’d better be er gittin’ toerds home.” Here the little girls looked at each other in some perplexity, for they knew Diddie had been missed, and they were afraid to go to the house. “Uncle Bob,” said Diddie, “we’ve done er wrong thing this evenin’; we ran away fum Miss Carrie, an’ we’re scared of papa; he might er lock us all up in the library, an’ talk to us, an’ say he’s ’stonished an’ mortified, an’ so we’re scared to go home.” “Umph!” said Uncle Bob; “you chil’en is mighty bad, anyhow.” “I think we’re heap mo’ _better’n_ we’re _bad,”_ said Dumps. “Well, dat mout er be so,” said the old man; “I ain’t er ’sputin it, but you chil’en comes fum or mighty high-minded stock uv white folks, an’ hit ain’t becomin’ in yer fur ter be runnin’ erway an’ er hidin’ out, same ez oberseer’s chil’en, an’ all kin’ er po’ white trash.” “We _are_ sorry about it now, Uncle Bob,” said Diddie; “but what would you ’vise us to do?” “Well, my invice is _dis,”_ said Uncle Bob, “fur ter go ter yer pa, an’ tell him de truff; state all de konkumstances des like dey happen; don’t lebe out none er de facks; tell him you’re sorry yer ’haved so onstreperous, an’ ax him fur ter furgib yer; an’ ef he do, wy dat’s all right; an’ den ef he _don’t,_ wy yer mus’ ’bide by de kinsequonces. But fuss, do, fo’ yer axes fur furgibness, yer mus’ turn yer min’s ter repintunce. Now I ax you chil’en _dis,_ Is—you—sorry—dat—you—runned—off? an’—is—you—’pentin’—uv—wadin’—in—de—ditch?” Uncle Rob spoke very slowly and solemnly, and in a deep tone; and Diddie, feeling very much as if she had been guilty of murder, replied, “Yes, I am truly sorry, Uncle Bob.” Dumps and Tot and the three little darkies gravely nodded their heads in assent. “Den jes go an’ tell yer pa so,” said the old man. “An’, anyway, yer’ll hatter be gwine, caze hit’s gittin’ dark.” The little folks walked off slowly towards the house, and presently Dumps said, “Diddie, I don’t b’lieve I’m _rael_ sorry we runned off, an’ I don’t _right_ ’pent ’bout wadin’ in the ditch, cause we had er mighty heap er fun; an’ yer reckon ef I’m jes _sorter_ sorry, an’ jes _toler’ble_ ’pent, that’ll do?” “I don’t know about that,” said Diddie; “but _I’m_ right sorry, and I’ll tell papa fur all of us.” The children went at once to the library, where Major Waldron was found reading. “Papa,” said Diddie, “we’ve ben very bad, an’ we’ve come ter tell yer ’bout it.” “An’ the Jay Bird, he tol’ the deb’l,” put in Dumps, “an’ ’twan’t none er his business.” “Hush up, Dumps,” said Diddie, “till I tell papa ’bout it. I wouldn’t say my lesson, papa, an’ Miss Carrie locked me up, an’ the chil’en brought me my dinner.”