seemed only to knock out so much more laugh from the young ones, as they
tumbled precipitately over each other out of doors, where they fairly
screamed with merriment.

"Did ye ever see such aggravating young uns?" said Aunt Chloe, rather
complacently, as, producing an old towel, kept for such emergencies,
she poured a little water out of the cracked tea-pot on it, and began
rubbing off the molasses from the baby's face and hands; and, having
polished her till she shone, she set her down in Tom's lap, while she
busied herself in clearing away supper. The baby employed the intervals
in pulling Tom's nose, scratching his face, and burying her fat hands
in his woolly hair, which last operation seemed to afford her special
content.

"Aint she a peart young un?" said Tom, holding her from him to take a
full-length view; then, getting up, he set her on his broad shoulder,
and began capering and dancing with her, while Mas'r George snapped at
her with his pocket-handkerchief, and Mose and Pete, now returned again,
roared after her like bears, till Aunt Chloe declared that they "fairly
took her head off" with their noise. As, according to her own statement,
this surgical operation was a matter of daily occurrence in the cabin,
the declaration no whit abated the merriment, till every one had roared
and tumbled and danced themselves down to a state of composure.

"Well, now, I hopes you're done," said Aunt Chloe, who had been busy
in pulling out a rude box of a trundle-bed; "and now, you Mose and you
Pete, get into thar; for we's goin' to have the meetin'."

"O mother, we don't wanter. We wants to sit up to meetin',--meetin's is
so curis. We likes 'em."