“'Hit's de ole time erligion, Hit's de ole time'” She caught sight of her baby with his glistening black face and golden hair. She threw up her hands, closed her eyes, and uttered a terrified shriek. Presently she slowly opened her eyes and took a second peep at her curious-looking offspring. Sarah Jane screamed aloud: “Hit's de handiwork er de great Jehoshaphat! Hit's de Marster's sign. Who turnt yo' hair, Benny Dick?” she asked of the sticky little pickaninny sitting happily on the floor. “Is a angel been here?” Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of comprehension. “Hit's de doing er de Lord,” cried his mother. “He gwine turn my chile white an' he done begunt on his head!” There was an ecstatic giggle from behind the door. Sarah Jane rushed inside as fast as her mammoth proportions would admit and caught a culprit in each huge black paw. “What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?” she asked. “What yer been er-doing?” Sudden suspicion entered her mind as she caught sight of the empty bottle lying on a chair. “You been er-putting' suthin' on my chile's head! I knows yer, I's er-gwine ter make yo' mammy gi' ye de worses' whippin' yer eber got an' I's gwine ter take dis here William right ober ter Miss Minerva. Ain't y' all 'shame' er yerselves? Er tamperin' wid de ha'r what de good Lord put on er colored pusson's head an' ertryin' fer ter scarify my feelin's like yer done. An' yer hear me, I's gwine see dat somebody got ter scarify yer hides.” “If that ain't just like you, Billy,” said Jimmy, “you all time got to perpose to make nigger heads yeller and you all time getting little boys in trouble. You 'bout the smart Alexist jack-rabbit they is.” “You perposed this here hair business yo'self, Jimmy,” retorted his fellow-conspirator. “You's always blamin' yo' meanness on somebody else ever sence you's born.” “Hit don't matter who perposed hit,” said Sarah Jane firmly; “meanness has been did, an' y' all gotter be structified on de place pervided by natur fer ter lem my chile erlone.” CHAPTER X LO! THE POOR INDIANS Billy had just decided to run down to the livery stable to pay Sam Lamb a visit when the gate opened, and Lina and Frances, their beloved dolls in their arms, came skipping in. Jimmy, who had had a difference with Billy and was in the sulks on his own side of the fence, immediately crawled over and joined the others in the swing. He was lonesome and the prospect of companionship was too alluring for him to nurse his anger longer. “Aunt Minerva's gone to the Aid Society,” remarked the host. “Don't y' all wish it met ev'y day 'stid 'er jes' meetin' ev'y Monday?” “Yes, I do,” agreed Frances, “you can have so much fun when our mamas go to the Aid. My mama's gone too, so she left me with Brother and he's writing a love letter to Ruth Shelton, so I slipped off.” “Mother has gone to the Aid, too,” said Lina.