QUITE a number of children were gathered in the vicinity of the pump, performing their usual antics, under the direction and leadership of a girl larger and older than the rest,--a genuine, coal-black, woolly-headed, thick-lipped young negro. This was the daughter of Venus, the cook, and her appointment of service was the kitchen. Full of fun, and nimble as an eel in every joint, her various pranks and feats of skill were perfectly amazing, and were received with boisterous applause by the rest of the group. As she saw Tidy advancing, however, she ceased her evolutions, and, turning to the others with a comic grimace, she bade them hold off, while she held discourse with the new-comer. "Her comes yer white nigger," she said, in a loud whisper, "and I's boun' to gaffer de las' news;" and putting on a demure face, she accosted the neatly-appareled child. "Specs ye're a stranger in dese yer parts. What's yer name?" "Tidy;--what's yourn?" was the ready response. "Dey calls me France. Dey don't stop to place fandangles on to names here. Specs dey'll call YOU Ti." "I doesn't care; I's willin'," replied Tidy, good-naturedly. "What's de matter wid yer? Been sick?" proceeded France, with a roguish twinkle of the eye. "Specs you's had measles or 'sumption,--yer's pale as deaf; and yer hair,--laws, sakes, it'll a'most stan' alone! de kind's all done gone out of it." "Never had much," said Tidy, laughing. "It's most straight, see;" and she pulled one of the short ringlets out with her fingers. "And I isn't sick, neither; 'tis my 'plexion." "'Plexion!" repeated Frances, with a tone of derision; "'tis white folks has 'plexion; niggers don't hab none. Don't grow white skins in dese yer parts." "White's as good as black, I s'pose, a'n't it?" answered Tidy, diverted by the droll manners of her new acquaintance. "I don't see no odds nohow." "'Ta'n't 'spectable, dat's all. Brack's de fashion here on dis yer plantation. 'Tis tough, b'ars whippin's and hard knocks. Whew! Hi! Ke! Missus'll cut ye all up to slivers fust time." "Does missus whip?" "Reckon she does jest dat ting. Reckons you'll feel it right smart 'fore you're much older. Hi! she whips like a driver,--cuts de skin all off de knuckles in little less dan no time at all. Yer'll see; make yer curl all up." It was not a very pleasant prospect for Tidy, to be sure; but, more amused than frightened, she went on with her inquiries. "What does she whip ye for?" "Laws, sake, for noffin at all; jest when she takes a notion; jest for ex'cise, like. Owes me one, now," said the girl. "I breaked de pitcher dis mornin', and, ho, ho, ho! how missus flied! I runned and 'scaped her, though." "She'll catch ye some time."