l sing a song--air one we choose--boss, he'd call out de names,
an' we'd step up, one by one, ter git our presents; an' ef we'd walk too
shamefaced ur too 'boveish, he'd pass a joke on us, ter set ev'ybody
laughin'.

"I ricollec' one Christmas-time I was co'tin' yo' gran'ma. I done had
been co'tin' 'er two years, an' she helt 'er head so high I was 'feerd
ter speak. An' when Christmas come, an' I marched up ter git my present,
ole marster gimme my bundle, an' I started back, grinnin' lak a
chessy-cat, an' he calt me back, an' he say: 'Hol' on, Moses,' he say,
'I got 'nother present fur you ter-day. Heah's a finger-ring I got fur
you, an' ef it don't fit you, I reckon hit'll fit Zephyr--you know yo'
gran'ma she was name Zephyr. An' wid dat he ran his thumb in 'is pocket
an' fotch me out a little gal's ring--"

"A gol' ring, gran'dad?"

"No, boy, but a silver ring--ginniwine German silver. Well, I wush't you
could o' heard them darkies holler an' laugh! An' Zephyr, ef she hadn't
o' been so yaller, she'd o' been red as dat sky yonder, de way she did
blush buff."

"An' what did you do, gran'dad?"

"Who, me? Dey warn't but des one thing _fur_ me to do. I des gi'n Zephyr
de ring, an' she ax me is I mean it, an'--an' I ax her is _she_ mean it,
an'--an' we bofe say--none o' yo' business what we say! What you lookin'
at me so quizzical fur, Juke? Ef yer wants ter know, we des had a
weddin' dat Christmas night--dat what we done--an' dat's huccome you got
yo' gran'ma.

"But I'm talkin' 'bout Christmas now. When we'd all go home, we'd open
our bundles, an' of all de purty things, _an'_ funny things, _an'_
jokes you ever heerd of, dey'd be in dem Christmas bundles--some'h'n'
ter suit ev'y one, and hit 'im square on his funny-bone ev'y time. An'
all de little bundles o' buckwheat ur flour 'd have _picayunes_ an'
dimes in 'em! We used ter reg'lar sif' 'em out wid a sifter. Dat was des
_our_ white folks's way. None o' de yether fam'lies 'long de coas' done
it. You see, all de diffe'nt fam'lies had diffe'nt ways. But ole marster
an' ole miss dey'd think up some new foolishness ev'y year. We nuver
knowed what was gwine to be did nex'--on'y one thing. _Dey allus put
money in de buckwheat-bag_--an' you know we nuver tas'e no buckwheat
'cep'n' on'y Christmas. Oh, boy, ef we could des meet wid some o' we's
white folks ag'in!"

"How is we got los' f'om 'em, gran'dad?" So Duke invited a hundredth
repetition of the story he knew so wel