That Old-Time Child, Roberta | Page 5

would
put his head in the door and say:
"Mis July, dat deviles hoss dun played me dat same trick ergin. He dun
lade down in de mud en roll ober en ober. 'T will take me clar up ter de
time to start ter chech ter git dat mud orf him, en hard wurk at dat. Dat
hoss knows ez well when Sad-day night comes ez you duz. Jes' de way
he dun las' week when I hetch him in de plow: lay down en groan lak
he sick enuff ter die, ter keep fum worken'; en half hour arfter I turn

him luse frolerken lak er colt--jes' kicken' up his heels, I kin tell you."
"Why not drive some of the others, Uncle Squire, so you can come in to
prayers?"
"I dun turn em all out, en dey's gorn, de Lord unly knows whar. If I'd
unly know'd it en time now. But I'll show 'im--I'll show 'im. I gwiner be
mity solid wid 'im, en mebbe heel larn arfter while dat he aint his own
master."
At other times it was a mule.
"Mis July, dat mule dun tore down dat rock fence ergin. I bounter fix it
or de stock will git out en go orf, you knows dat ez well az I duz. Dat
mule's yours, en you kin do what you please wid him, but ef he 'longter
me I'd sell him de fus chance I git. Dat mule nuff ter mek er man strike
hees gran-daddy."
Now, it was a well-known fact that Mrs. Marsden had tried several
times to sell the mule, and old Squire had always declared "the mule
was the most valuable animal on the place, and it was just giving him
away to sell him at the price offered."
Polly was Squire's granddaughter, and inherited his want of reverence
for sacred things. She was very, very trying, especially on one occasion
I will tell you about.
Roberta gathered the children together, took her Catechism and primer,
and went down to the summer-house. She noticed that Polly's
expression was sulky, and that she was rolling her eyes at Dilsy. But
Polly was always tormenting Dilsy. Dilsy was a little hunchback negro,
that everybody but Polly felt sorry for and tried to turn the soft side of
life to.
Roberta was not much discouraged by Polly's actions, still she knew it
was a great deal pleasanter to teach her when she was in a good humor,
and concluded to resort to a strategy to mollify her.

The child was a close observer of nature, and knew how indispensable
to germinate seed was a mellow, rightly prepared soil, and what service
sunshine and timely rainfalls were to growing crops. So she intuitively
drew an analogy in her childish way between the soil the plow-man
turns over and the human heart.
Now, if there was one thing that Polly delighted in more than another it
was the game of "Chick-a-mie, chick-a-mie, craney-crow."
So the children joined hands and moved around and around in a circle,
singing:
"Chick-a-mie, chick-a-mie, craney-crow, Went to the well to wash my
toe, When I got back my chickens was gone. What o'clock is it, old
Buzzard?"
Then they would fly around looking for the chickens. At least all of
them but Polly would. Polly always took the part of old Buzzard, so she
could flop down in Dilsy's seat, although she knew she would have to
get right up.
Somehow, that evening Roberta's strategy did not seem to have
accomplished its object, judging from Polly's expression. Still she
hoped for the best. Polly was the biggest, so she always begun with her.
"Who made you, Polly?"
No answer immediately; then,
"Dunno fur sarten, spec' 't wuz Gord."
A lump gathered in the child's throat. Her bump of reverence was so
largely developed it distressed her to see a want of it in others; she said
"it hurt her feelings."
She passed it by, however, and ventured on another.
"What else did God make?"

"Dunno fur sarten, never seed 'im wuken'."
"For shame, Polly! God made all things. Say 'God made all things.'"
"No, never. Never made Dilsy thar. Dilsy nuffin' but er scrap he
throw'd erway when he got fru cutten' out de grow'd-up ones."
"For shame, Polly! Don't you know everybody has to be little and grow
up."
"No, never! Adam and Eve wuz born'd grow'd up."
"Well, that was because they were the first people on earth, and there
was nobody to be papa and mamma for 'em, and take care of 'em, when
they were little."
"Dat's like Dilsy thar. Dilsy never had no daddy."
"Well, Polly, you haven't answered my question yet. Say 'God made all
things.'"
"No, never! God never made mammy's twins--no mo' dan