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"Look here, ole marse!" said Katie, addressing the bench, "he had his sassagefaction sassin' at me dere at Scraggy! now it's my turn! And I gwine gib it to him good, too. Say, my lordship! sold me to a low life 'fectioner to work in de kitchen didn't you! Umph-humph! What you gwine to work at? not crickets, dat's sartain!
"Umph-humph! dat's jes wat I 'lowed," said Mammy. "I 'lowed yer wouldn't be willin' fur ter go, er set'n' hyear an' er patt'n' yer han's same ez niggers, an' er singin' uv reel chunes; I dunno wat makes you chil'en so onstrep'rous." "Yes, Dumps, you know we promised," said Diddie, "and so we must go when Mammy tells us."
Then with a comfortable little "Umph-humph," puffing out his pudgy cheeks with tightly tucked-in lips, he let go of Vic's finger and trotted over to the ticket box. The boy let him inside and turned to the window to see the face of the tramp close to it. The man paid for a ticket, then, leaning forward, stared eagerly at the open money box.
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