Mandy waited until the children had disappeared over the hill, then began bustling about looking for the step-ladder which Hasty had left under the vines of the porch. It had been a busy day at the parsonage. A social always meant perturbation for Mandy. She called sharply to Hasty, as he came down the path which made a short cut to the village: “So's you'se back, is you?” she asked, sarcastically. “Sure, I'se back,” answered Hasty, good-naturedly, as he sank upon an empty box that had held some things for the social, and pretended to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. “Masse John done send you to de post office two hours ago,” said Mandy, as she took the letters and papers from his hand. “Five minutes is plenty ob time for any nigger to do dat job.” “I done been detained,” Hasty drawled. “You'se always 'tained when dar's any work a-goin' on,” Mandy snapped at him. “Whar's Miss Polly?” Hasty asked, ignoring Mandy's reference to work. “Nebber you mind 'bout Miss Polly. She don't want you. Jes' you done fetch that step-ladder into de Sunday-school-room.” “But I wants her,” Hasty insisted. “I'se been on very 'ticular business what she ought to know 'bout.” “Business?” she repeated. “What kind ob business?” “I got to fix de Sunday-school-room,” said Hasty, as he perceived her growing curiosity. “You come heah, nigger!” Mandy called, determined that none of the village doings should escape her. “Out wid it!” “Well, it's 'bout de circus,” Hasty answered? seating himself again on the box. “Dey's showin' in Wakefield to-night, and next month dey's comin' here.” “Dat same circus what Miss Polly used to be wid?” Mandy's eyes grew large with curiosity. “De very same,” and Hasty nodded mysteriously. “How you know dat?” Mandy was uncertain whether to believe him. “'Cause da's a big, red wagon downtown wid de name ob de show painted on it. It's de advertisin' one what goes ahead wid all de pictures what dey pastes up.” “And you been hangin' 'roun' dat wagon?” “I done thought Miss Polly might want to know.” “See here, lazy nigger, don' you go puttin' no circus notions into Miss Polly's head. She don' care no more 'bout dem things since her Uncle Toby done die. She done been satisfied right whar she am. Jes' you let her be.” “I ain't done nothin',” Hasty protested. “Nebber do do nothin',” growled Mandy. “Go long now, and get a-work. Mos' four o'clock and dat Sunday-school-room ain't ready yet.” Hasty picked up the empty box and the step-ladder and went out through the gate. He had barely disappeared when a peal of laughter was heard from the hillside, and before Mandy could get out of the way, the youngsters came tumbling down the path again. “Lawsy, lawsy,” she gasped, as Polly circled around her, dodging the children. “You'se cheeks is red as pineys, honey.”