_Grace._ [_Seizing a fly whisk._] Hee! ha--git out! [_Drives_ Children _away; in escaping they tumble against and trip up_ Solon, _who falls with tray; the_ Children _steal the bananas and rolls that fall about._] _Enter_ Pete, R. U. E. [_he is lame_]; _he carries a mop and pail._ _Pete._ Hey! laws a massey! why, clar out! drop dat banana! I'll murder this yer crowd, [_He chases Children about; they leap over railing at back. Exit_ Solon, R. U. E.] Dem little niggers is a judgment upon dis generation. _Enter_ George, _from house,_ L. _George._ What's the matter, Pete. _Pete._ It's dem black trash, Mas'r George; dis ere property wants claring; dem's getting too numerous round; when I gets time I'll kill some on 'em, sure! _George._ They don't seem to be scared by the threat. _Pete._ Top, you varmin! top till I get enough of you in one place! _George._ Were they all born on this estate? _Pete._ Guess they nebber was born--dem tings! what, dem?--get away! Born here--dem darkies? What, on Terrebonne! Don't b'lieve it, Mas'r George; dem black tings never was born at all; dey swarmed one mornin' on a sassafras tree in the swamp; I cotched 'em; dey ain't no 'count. Don't b'lieve dey'll turn out niggers when dey're growed; dey'll come out sunthin else. _Grace._ Yes, Mas'r George, dey was born here; and old Pete is fonder on 'em dan he is of his fiddle on a Sunday. _Pete._ What? dem tings--dem?--getaway [_makes blow at the_ Children.] Born here! dem darkies! What, on Terrebonne? Don't b'lieve it, Mas'r George,--no. One morning dey swarmed on a sassafras tree in de swamp, and I cotched 'em all in a sieve.--dat's how dey come on top of dis yearth--git out, you,--ya, ya! [_Laughs._] [_Exit_ Grace, R. U. E. _Enter_ Mrs. Peyton, _from house._ _Mrs. P._ So, Pete, you are spoiling those children as usual! _Pete._ Dat's right, missus! gib it to ole Pete! he's allers in for it. Git away dere! Ya! if dey aint all lighted, like coons, on dat snake fence, just out of shot. Look dar! Ya! ya! Dem debils. Ya! _Mrs. P._ Pete, do you hear? _Pete._ Git down dar!--I'm arter you! [_Hobbles off,_ R. 1. E. _Mrs. P._ You are out early this morning, George. _George._ I was up before daylight. We got the horses saddled, and galloped down the shell road over the Piney Patch; then coasting the Bayou Lake, we crossed the long swamps, by Paul's Path, and so came home again. _Mrs. P._ [_Laughing._] You seem already familiar with the names of every spot on the estate. _Enter_ Pete.--_Arranges breakfast, &c._ _George._ Just one month ago I quitted Paris. I left that siren city as I would have left a beloved woman. _Mrs. P._ No wonder! I dare say you left at least a dozen beloved women there, at the same time. _George._ I feel that I departed amid universal and sincere regret. I left my loves and my creditors equally inconsolable. _Mrs. P._ George, you are incorrigible. Ah! you remind me so much of your uncle, the judge.