Doris kept singing the beautiful new words she had learned and chuckling like a little witch each time after their utterance. She felt so clever--so accomplished. And all this wonderful excitement in this strange place! Why, it was entrancing. Children--lots of them--running hither and thither, each one stopping now and then to smother her with kisses or tickle her under the chin, or clap their hands to make her laugh and show her pretty teeth. It really was the best time she had ever had in her life. Once--twice she looked around and called for "Daddy"; but daddy didn't come right away and the next instant Mollie was there, so it was all right. Daddy was probably around somewhere. Anyway, it didn't matter because they were going to play games and Daddy didn't play games. This was a new one. Doris clapped her hands at the spectacle. The children all ran to a hole in the floor and disappeared into some mysterious depth below. Doris toddled toward the place to see where they went. She wanted to go, too. It was then Mollie caught her up with a splendid swoop and, taking her in her arms, went right down the hole after the children. Doris squealed with delight and pounded Mollie's head with her pink fists. "Oh, honey darlin', yo' mustn't," whispered Mollie. "This hain't no place ter laugh. Ef he hyars yo' mebbe he'll make me leave yo' set hyar alone, tied with a string ter sumpin' like he's done afore. Honey, chile, be Mollie's good girl and shut yore eyes tight and keep thet sweet mouf shet til we-uns all git ter th' co'n-field." Mollie smothered the gurgles of laughter against her breast and ran, as fast as her sturdy legs would carry her, toward the field where the other children were already relaxing from the restraint of the loft, where every word might be overheard. Grimes was not yet out of bed. Ambrose would not come prowling about until after breakfast. Before that repast could be served Mollie must go to the house to help prepare it. For the time being the children were free. The day was unusually warm. The day previous had been filled with especially hard and dirty work. The children had all slept with their clothes on. This morning they looked more than ordinarily wretched. Mollie, scanning them, had an idea. "How many o' yo' young-uns 'ud like ter git washed?" she asked. There was a clamor of childish voices and a general rush toward her. The clamor was not loud, like the merry voices heard in a children's play-ground but a subdued, apprehensive babble that could not have been heard beyond the confines of that corn-patch. But every child knew what Mollie's words implied. If they hurried and kept quiet so that no one heard them, there would be time for a quick dash into that beautiful pool where old Walter drank and where the cow-brute loved to stand, soaking her feet and swishing her tail during the heat of the day.