When the little boy did speak, he made no reference to Brother Rabbit and the chicken feathers: his thoughts were elsewhere. “Uncle Remus,” he said, “I never saw a cricket. What do they look like?”

 

“You ain’t never see no cricket!” exclaimed Uncle Remus, with a great display of amazement². “Well, dat bangs my time! What yo’ ma an’ pa—speshually yo’ pa—what dey been doin’ all deze lonesome years dat they ain’t never[88] show’d you no cricket? How dey speck³ you ter git ’long in de worl’ ef dey ain’t gwine ter tell you ’bout de things you oughter know, an’ show you de things dat you oughter see? You ain’t never see no cricket, an’ here you is mos’ ready ter shave off de down on your face!”

 

The child blushed. “Why, I have no down on my face, Uncle Remus,” he protested.

 

“Well, you will have some er deze days, an’ den⁴ what will folks think uv a great big man what ain’t never seed no cricket?”

 

“Mother has never seen one,” replied the little boy, somewhat triumphantly⁵.

 

“She’s a lady,” Uncle Remus explained, “an’ dat’s diffunt. She been brung up in ’Lantamatantarum, an’ I speck she’d fall down an’ faint ef she wuz ter see one. Folks ain’t like dey use ter be; in my day an’ time, ef man er boy wuz ter say dat he ain’t never seed no cricket, dem what he tol’ de news ter would git up an’ go ’way fum ’im; but deze days I boun’ you dey’d huddle⁶ up close ’roun’ ’im, an’ j’ine in wid ’im, an’ say dey ain’t never is seed one nudder.”

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