hin'; but go 'long, Mas'r
George! Why, I shouldn't sleep a wink for a week, if I had a batch of
pies like dem ar. Why, dey wan't no 'count 't all."

"I suppose Jinny thought they were ever so nice," said George.

"Thought so!--didn't she? Thar she was, showing em, as innocent--ye see,
it's jest here, Jinny _don't know_. Lor, the family an't nothing! She
can't be spected to know! 'Ta'nt no fault o' hem. Ah, Mas'r George, you
doesn't know half 'your privileges in yer family and bringin' up!" Here
Aunt Chloe sighed, and rolled up her eyes with emotion.

"I'm sure, Aunt Chloe, I understand I my pie and pudding privileges,"
said George. "Ask Tom Lincon if I don't crow over him, every time I meet
him."

Aunt Chloe sat back in her chair, and indulged in a hearty guffaw of
laughter, at this witticism of young Mas'r's, laughing till the tears
rolled down her black, shining cheeks, and varying the exercise with
playfully slapping and poking Mas'r Georgey, and telling him to go way,
and that he was a case--that he was fit to kill her, and that he sartin
would kill her, one of these days; and, between each of these sanguinary
predictions, going off into a laugh, each longer and stronger than the
other, till George really began to think that he was a very dangerously
witty fellow, and that it became him to be careful how he talked "as
funny as he could."

"And so ye telled Tom, did ye? O, Lor! what young uns will be up ter!
Ye crowed over Tom? O, Lor! Mas'r George, if ye wouldn't make a hornbug
laugh!"

"Yes," said George, "I says to him, 'Tom, you ought to see some of Aunt
Chloe's pies; they're the right sort,' says I."

"Pity, now, Tom couldn't," said Aunt Chloe, on whose benevolent
heart the idea of Tom's benighted condition seemed to make a strong
impression. "Ye oughter just ask him here to dinner, some o' these
times, Mas'r George," she added; "it would look quite pretty of ye.
Ye know, Mas'r George, ye oughtenter feel 'bove nobody, on 'count yer
privileges, 'cause all our privileges is gi'n to us; we ought al'ays to
'member that," said Aunt Chloe, looking quite serious.

"Well, I mean to ask Tom here, some day next week," said George; "and
you do your prettiest, Aunt Chloe, and we'll make him stare. Won't we
make him eat so he won't get over it for a fortnight?"

"Yes, yes--sartin," said Aunt Chloe, delighted "you'll see. Lor! to
think of some of our dinners! Yer mind dat ar great chicken pie I made
when we guv de