“’Top dat, _Met_! ’Top it! _Met_! What you pull off my hoos for? Me not do bed. ’Top it, _Met_!” he cried, this time less in anger than in anguish to see such treachery in a trusted servant. “Oh! I want ’em so bad! so bad! Won’t you give ’em to me? Won’t Lenny give ’em to Met?” pleaded the girl, in a wheedling tone. “You want my hoos?” inquired Lenny, pitifully. “Yes, so bad! I have got no shoes.” “You dot no hoos?” “No.” “Well, den, me div you mine. Tate off! tate off! Me dot more hoos home.” The girl took them off. And this must be said in excuse for her, that she was acting under the orders and under the eyes of her tyrannical and unscrupulous uncles. “Now put on _you_ feet! Put on! put on!” insisted Lenny, stooping over and looking at Meg’s sturdy naked limbs. “But my hoos too ittle for you feet. You feet so bid,” he added, in astonishment, at the size of Meg’s “understanding.” “Never mind, I can change ’em for a bigger pair,” answered the girl. Before Lenny could reply again, he was accosted by the beldam, who held him on her lap and who had got possession of his elegant little white satin hat, with its plume of white marabout feathers fastened with a cluster of diamonds. “And may I have this, my pretty, pretty bird?” she asked, holding it up to view. “You dot no bonnet?” he inquired compassionately. “No, my pretty little angel, I’ve got no bonnet.” “Den you have Lenny hat—Doosa div Lenny more hat. Put on, put on!” he exclaimed, impatiently seizing his beautiful and costly cap, and trying to decorate with it the horrible head of the old hag. He was permitted to complete his purpose, to the unbounded mirth of the group who all burst into loud laughter at the ludicrous effect produced. When this ebullition had somewhat subsided, Lenny bestowed his sash upon Meg, his tiny pocket-handkerchief on one man, and his little gloves on another; and then he said, with an air of relief: “Now, dat all—Lenny dot no more div! Now Lenny want do home see Doosa.” He said this with so much confidence, yet with so much uneasiness and longing that they all pitied him. The old woman asked: “Who is Doosa, my little angel?” “Doosa id Doosa—Lenny Doosa—Lenny pretty Mamma Doosa.” “His mother,” said one of the men, in a low voice. And then, for a few moments, nobody knew what to say. Lenny was the first to speak: “Tate me home now see Doosa. Met, I do ’id you—you tate me.” Meg was confounded for a few moments, and then her mother-wit came to her aid, and she answered: “But Doosa is coming here herself to take Lenny home.” “Doosa tome here, tate Lenny home?” “Yes, and Lenny must be a good boy till Doosa comes.” “Doosa say so?” “Yes, Doosa say so.” “Den Lenny will—” he said, gaping, and adding: “Lenny so sleepy! me so sleepy!” “Well, then, lay on its old grannam breast, and go to sleep, my little angel,” said the old woman, gathering him up to her bosom.