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A long cry came down the ravine: "J-u-n-e! eh oh J-u-n-e!" That was a queer name for the mountains, and the fisherman wondered if he had heard aright June. The little girl gave a shrill answering cry, but she did not move. "Thar now!" she said. "Who's that your Mammy?" "No, 'tain't hit's my step-mammy. I'm a goin' to ketch hell now." Her innocent eyes turned sullen and her baby mouth tightened.
"No you ain't I bet you got dinner fer yo' step-mammy afore you left, an' I jes' know you was aimin' to take a snack with me an' ole Hon." The little girl hesitated she had no denial and the old fellow smiled kindly. "Come on, now."
"You see, de trouble is I done had my eye on Pete's chillen ever sence dey mammy died, an' ef dey ever was a set o' onery, low-down, sassy, no-'count little niggers dat need takin' in hand by a able-bodied step-mammy, dey a-waitin' fur me right yonder in Pete's cabin. My hand has des nachelly itched to take aholt o' dat crowd many a day an' ever sence I buried Numa of co'se I see de way was open.
So he took her back to her seat with a copy-book and pencil and told her to go on with her work, and that he would go to see her father and mother as soon as possible. "I hain't got no mammy hit's a step-mammy," she said, and she spoke of the woman as of a horse or a cow, and again he smiled. Then as he turned away he repeated her name to himself and with a sudden wonder turned quickly back.
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