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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by
+Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Miss Minerva and William Green Hill
+
+Author: Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5187]
+Posting Date: April 20, 2009
+Last Updated: March 15, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISS MINERVA AND WILLIAM GREEN HILL
+
+By Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+                    A SCANDALIZED VIRGIN
+
+
+The bus drove up to the gate and stopped under the electric
+street-light. Perched on the box by the big, black negro driver sat a
+little boy whose slender figure was swathed in a huge rain coat.
+
+Miss Minerva was on the porch waiting to receive him.
+
+“Mercy on me, child,” she said, “what on earth made you ride up there?
+Why didn't you get inside?”
+
+“I jest wanted to ride by Sam Lamb,” replied the child as he was lifted
+down. “An' I see a nice fat little man name' Major--”
+
+“He jes' wouldn' ride inside, Miss Minerva,” interrupted the driver,
+quickly, to pass over the blush that rose to the spinster's thin cheek
+at mention of the Major. “Twan't no use fer ter try ter make him ride
+nowhars but jes' up by me. He jes' 'fused an' 'fused an' 'sputed an'
+'sputed; he jes' tuck ter me f'om de minute he got off 'm de train an'
+sot eyes on me; he am one easy chile ter git 'quainted wid; so, I jes'
+h'isted him up by me. Here am his verlise, ma'am.”
+
+“Good-bye, Sam Lamb,” said the child as the negro got back on the box
+and gathered up the reins. “I'll see you to-morrer.”
+
+Miss Minerva imprinted a thin, old-maid kiss on the sweet, childish
+mouth. “I am your Aunt Minerva,” she said, as she picked up his satchel.
+
+The little boy carelessly drew the back of his hand across his mouth.
+
+“What are you doing?” she asked. “Are you wiping my kiss off?”
+
+“Naw 'm,” he replied, “I's jest a--I's a-rubbin' it in, I reckon.”
+
+“Come in, William,” and his aunt led the way through the wide hall into
+w big bedroom.
+
+“Billy, ma'am,” corrected her nephew.
+
+“William,” firmly repeated Miss Minerva. “You may have been called Billy
+on that plantation where you were allowed to run wild with the negroes,
+but your name is William Green Hill and I shall insist upon your being
+called by it.”
+
+She stooped to help him off with his coat, remarking as she did so,
+“What a big overcoat; it is several sizes too large for you.”
+
+“Darned if 'tain't,” agreed the child promptly.
+
+“Who taught you such a naughty word?” she asked in a horrified voice.
+“Don't you know it is wrong to curse?”
+
+“You call that cussin'?” came in scornful tones from the little boy.
+“You don't know cussin' when you see it; you jest oughter hear ole Uncle
+Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, Aunt Cindy's husban'; he'll show you somer the
+pretties' cussin' you ever did hear.”
+
+“Who is Aunt Cindy?”
+
+“She's the colored 'oman what 'tends to me ever sence me an' Wilkes
+Booth Lincoln's born, an' Uncle Jup'ter is her husban' an' he sho' is a
+stingeree on cussin'. Is yo' husban' much of a cusser?” he inquired.
+
+A pale pink dyed Miss Minerva's thin, sallow face.
+
+“I am not a married woman,” she replied, curtly, “and I most assuredly
+would not permit any oaths to be used on my premises.”
+
+“Well, Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter is jest nach'elly boon' to cuss,--he's
+got a repertation to keep up,” said Billy.
+
+He sat down in a chair in front of his aunt, crossed his legs and smiled
+confidentially up into her face.
+
+“Hell an' damn is jest easy ev'y day words to that nigger. I wish you
+could hear him cuss on a Sunday jest one time, Aunt Minerva; he'd sho'
+make you open yo' eyes an' take in yo' sign. But Aunt Cindy don't 'low
+me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln to say nothin' 't all only jest 'darn' tell
+we gits grown mens, an' puts on long pants.”
+
+“Wilkes Booth Lincoln?” questioned his aunt.
+
+“Ain't you never hear teller him?” asked the child. “He's ole Aunt
+Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's boy; an' Peruny Pearline,” he
+continued enthusiastically, “she ain't no ord'nary nigger, her hair
+ain't got nare kink an' she's got the grandes' clo'es. They ain't
+nothin' snide 'bout her. She got ten chillens an' ev'y single one of
+'em's got a diff'unt pappy, she been married so much. They do say she
+got Injun blood in her, too.”
+
+Miss Minerva, who had been standing prim, erect, and stiff, fell limply
+into a convenient rocking chair, and looked closely at this orphaned
+nephew who had come to live with her.
+
+She saw a beautiful, bright, attractive, little face out of which big,
+saucy, grey eyes shaded by long curling black lashes looked winningly
+at her; she saw a sweet, childish, red mouth, a mass of short, yellow
+curls, and a thin but graceful little figure.
+
+“I knows the names of aller ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's
+chillens,” he was saying proudly: “Admiral Farragut Moses the Prophet
+Esquire, he's the bigges'; an' Alice Ann Maria Dan Step-an'-Go-Fetch-It,
+she had to nuss all the res.'; she say fas' as she git th'oo nussin' one
+an' 'low she goin' to have a breathin' spell here come another one an'
+she got to nuss it. An' the nex' is Mount Sinai Tabernicle, he name
+fer the church where of Aunt BlueGum Tempy's Peruny Pearline takes her
+sackerment; an' the nex' is First Thessalonians; Second Thessalonians,
+he's dead an' gone to the Bad Place 'cause he skunt a cat,--I don't mean
+skin the cat on a actin' role like me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln does,--he
+skunt a sho' 'nough cat what was a black cat, what was a ole witch,
+an' she come back an' ha'nt him an' he growed thinner an' thinner an'
+weasler an' weasler, tell finely he wan't nothin' 't all but a skel'ton,
+an' the Bad Man won't 'low nobody 't all to give his parch' tongue no
+water, an' he got to, ever after amen, be toast on a pitchfork. An'
+Oleander Magnolia Althea is the nex',” he continued, enumerating Peruny
+Pearline's offspring on his thin, well molded fingers, “she got the
+seven year itch; an' Gettysburg, an' Biddle-&-Brothers-Mercantile-Co.;
+he name fer the sto' where ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline
+gits credit so she can pay when she fetches in her cotton in the fall;
+an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln, him an' me's twins, we was borned the same day
+only I's borned to my mama an' he's borned to his 'n an' Doctor
+Jenkins fetched me an' Doctor Shacklefoot fetched him. An' Decimus
+Ultimus,”--the little boy triumphantly put his right forefinger on his
+left little one, thus making the tenth, “she's the baby an' she's got
+the colic an' cries loud 'nough to wake up Israel; Wilkes Booth Lincoln
+say he wish the little devil would die. Peruny Pearline firs' name her
+'Doctor Shacklefoot' 'cause he fetches all her chillens, but the doctor
+he say that ain't no name fer a girl, so he name her Decimus Ultimus.”
+
+Miss Minerva, sober, proper, dignified, religious old maid unused
+to children, listened in frozen amazement and paralyzed silence. She
+decided to put the child to bed at once that she might collect her
+thoughts, and lay some plans for the rearing of this sadly neglected,
+little orphaned nephew.
+
+“William,” she said, “it is bedtime, and I know you must be sleepy after
+your long ride on the cars. Would you like something to eat before I put
+you to bed? I saved you some supper.”
+
+“Naw 'm, I ain't hongry; the Major man what I talk to on the train tuck
+me in the dinin'-room an' gimme all I could hol'; I jest eat an' eat
+tell they wan't a wrinkle in me,” was the reply. “He axed me 'bout you,
+too. Is he name' Major Minerva?”
+
+She opened a door in considerable confusion, and they entered a small,
+neat room adjoining.
+
+“This is your own little room, William,” said she, “you see it opens
+into mine. Have you a nightshirt?”
+
+“Naw 'm, I don' need no night-shirt. I jest sleeps in my unions and
+sometimes in my overalls.”
+
+“Well, you may sleep in your union suit to-night,” said his scandalized
+relative, “and I'll see what I can do for you to-morrow. Can you undress
+yourself?”
+
+Her small nephew wrinkled his nose, disdainfully. “Well, I reckon so,”
+ he scornfully made answer. “Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been undressin'
+usself ever sence we's born.”
+
+“I'll come in here after a while and turn off the light. Good-night,
+William.”
+
+“Good-night, Aunt Minerva,” responded the little boy.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+                THE RABBIT'S LEFT HIND FOOT
+
+
+A few minutes later, as Miss Minerva sat rocking and thinking, the door
+opened and a lean, graceful, little figure, clad in a skinny, grey union
+suit, came into the room.
+
+“Ain't I a-goin' to say no prayers?” demanded a sweet, childish voice.
+“Aunt Cindy hear me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln say us prayers ev'y night
+sence we's born.”
+
+“Why, of course you must say your prayers,” said his aunt, blushing at
+having to be reminded of her duty by this young heathen; “kneel down
+here by me.”
+
+Billy looked at his aunt's bony frame and thought of Aunt Cindy's soft,
+fat, ample lap. A wistful look crossed his childish face as he dropped
+down in front of her and laid his head against her knee, then the
+bright, beautiful little face took on an angelic expression as he closed
+his eyes and softly chanted: “'Now I lays me down to sleep, I prays the
+Lord my soul to keep, If I should die befo' I wake, I prays the Lord my
+soul to take.
+
+“'Keep way f'om me hoodoo an' witch, Lead my paf f'om the po'-house
+gate, I pines fey the golden harps an' sich, Oh, Lord, I'll set an'
+pray an' wait.' 'Oh, Lord, bless ev'ybody; bless me an' Aunt Cindy, an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln, an' Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline, an'
+Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, an' ev'ybody, an' Sam Lamb, an' Aunt Minerva,
+an' alley Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's chillens, an' give
+Aunt Minerva a billy goat or a little nanny if she'd ruther, an' bless
+Major Minerva, an' make me a good boy like Sanctified Sophy, fey Jesus'
+sake. Amen.'”
+
+“What is that you have tied around your neck, William?” she asked, as
+the little boy rose to his feet.
+
+“That's my rabbit foot; you won't never have no 'sease 't all an' nobody
+can't never conjure you if you wears a rabbit foot. This here one is the
+lef' hin' foot; it was ketched by a red-headed nigger with crosseyes
+in a graveyard at twelve er'clock on a Friday night, when they's a full
+moon. He give it to Aunt Cindy to tie 'roun' my nake when I's a baby.
+Ain't you got no abbit foot?” he anxiously inquired.
+
+“No,” she answered. “I have never had one and I have never been
+conjured either. Give it to me, William; I can not allow you to be so
+superstitious,” and she held out her hand.
+
+“Please, Aunt Minerva, jest lemme wear it to-night,” he pleaded. “Me
+an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's been wearin' us rabbit foots ever sence we's
+born.”
+
+“No,” she said firmly; “I'll put a stop to such nonsense at once. Give
+it to me, William.”
+
+Billy looked at his aunt's austere countenance and lovingly fingered his
+charm; he opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated; slowly he
+untied the string around his neck and laid his treasure on her lap; then
+without looking up, he ran into his own little room, closing the door
+behind him.
+
+Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob coming
+from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked into a sad,
+little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with tears.
+
+“What is the matter, William?” she coldly asked.
+
+“I ain't never slep' by myself,” he sobbed. “Wilkes Booth Lincoln always
+sleep on a pallet by my bed ever sence we's born an'--'I wants Aunt
+Cindy to tell me 'bout Uncle Piljerk Peter.”
+
+His aunt sat down on the bed by his side. She was not versed in the ways
+of childhood and could not know that the little boy wanted to pillow his
+head on Aunt Cindy's soft and ample bosom, that he was homesick for his
+black friends, the only companions he had ever known.
+
+“I'll you a Bible story,” she temporized. “You must not be a baby. You
+are not afraid, are you, William? God is always with you.”
+
+“I don' want no God,” he sullenly made reply, “I wants somebody with
+sho' 'nough skin an' bones, an'--n' I wants to hear 'bout Uncle Piljerk
+Peter.”
+
+“I will tell you a Bible story,” again suggested his aunt, “I will tell
+you about--”
+
+“I don' want to hear no Bible story, neither,” he objected, “I wants to
+hear Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter play his 'corjun an' sing:
+
+  “'Rabbit up the gum tree, Coon is in the holler
+  Wake, snake; Juney-Bug stole a half a dollar.”'
+
+“I'll sing you a hymn,” said Miss Minerva patiently.
+
+“I don' want to hear you sing no hymn,” said Billy impolitely. “I wants
+to see Sanctified Sophy shout.”
+
+As his aunt could think of no substitute with which to tempt him in lieu
+of Sanctified Sophy's shouting, she remained silent.
+
+“An' I wants Wilkes Booth Lincoln to dance a clog,” persisted her
+nephew.
+
+Miss Minerva still remained silent. She felt unable to cope with the
+situation till she had adjusted her thoughts and made her plans.
+
+Presently Billy, looking at her shrewdly, said:
+
+“Gimme my rabbit foot, Aunt Minerva, an' I'll go right off to sleep.”
+
+When she again looked in on him he was fast asleep, a rosy flush on his
+babyish, tearstained cheek, his red lips half parted, his curly head
+pillowed on his arm, and close against his soft, young throat there
+nestled the left hind foot of a rabbit.
+
+Miss Minerva's bed time was half after nine o'clock, summer or winter.
+She had hardly varied a second in the years that had elapsed since the
+runaway marriage of her only relative, the young sister whose child
+had now come to live with her. But on the night of Billy's arrival the
+stern, narrow woman sat for hours in her rocking chair, her mind busy
+with thoughts of that pretty young sister, dead since the boy's birth.
+
+And now the wild, reckless, dissipated brother-in-law was dead, too, and
+the child had been sent to her; to the aunt who did not want him,
+who did not care for children, who had never forgiven her sister her
+unfortunate marriage. “If he had only been a girl,” she sighed. What she
+believed to be a happy thought entered her brain.
+
+“I shall rear him,” she promised herself, “just as if he were a little
+girl; then he will be both a pleasure and a comfort to me, and a
+companion for my loneliness.”
+
+Miss Minerva was strictly methodical; she worked ever by the clock,
+so many hours for this, so many minutes for that. William, she now
+resolved, for the first time becoming really interested in him, should
+grow up to be a model young man, a splendid and wonderful piece of
+mechanism, a fine, practical, machine-like individual, moral, upright,
+religious. She was glad that he was young; she would begin his training
+on the morrow. She would teach him to sew, to sweep, to churn, to cook,
+and when he was older he should be educated for the ministry.
+
+“Yes,” said Miss Minerva; “I shall be very strict with him just at
+first, and punish him for the slightest disobedience or misdemeanor, and
+he will soon learn that my authority is not to be questioned.”
+
+And the little boy who had never had a restraining hand laid upon him
+in his short life? He slept sweetly and innocently in the next room
+dreaming of the care-free existence on the plantation and of his idle,
+happy, negro companions.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+                     THE WILLING WORKER
+
+“Get up, William,” said Miss Minerva, “and come with me to the
+bath-room; I have fixed your bath.”
+
+The child's sleepy eyes popped wide open at this astounding command.
+
+“Ain't this-here Wednesday?” he asked sharply.
+
+“Yes; to-day is Wednesday. Hurry up or your water will get cold.”
+
+“Well, me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln jest washed las' Sat'day. We ain't
+got to wash no mo' till nex' Sat'day,” he argued.
+
+“Oh, yes,” said his relative; “you must bathe every day.”
+
+“Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never wash on a Wednesday sence we's
+born,” he protested indignantly.
+
+Billy's idea of a bath was taken from the severe weekly scrubbing which
+Aunt Cindy gave him with a hard washrag, and he felt that he'd rather
+die at once than have to bathe every day.
+
+He followed his aunt dolefully to the bath-room at the end of the long
+back-porch of the old-fashioned, one-story house; but once in the big
+white tub he was delighted.
+
+In fact he stayed in it so long Miss Minerva had to knock on the door
+and tell him to hurry up and get ready for breakfast.
+
+“Say,” he yelled out to her, “I likes this here; it's mos' as fine as
+Johnny's Wash Hole where me and' Wilkes Booth Lincoln goes in swimmin'
+ever sence we's born.”
+
+When he came into the dining-room he was a sight to gladden even a prim
+old maid's heart. The water had curled his hair into riotous yellow
+ringlets, his bright eyes gleamed, his beautiful, expressive little face
+shone happily, and every movement of his agile, lithe figure was grace
+itself.
+
+“I sho' is hongry,” he remarked, as he took his seat at the breakfast
+table.
+
+Miss Minerva realized that now was the time to begin her small nephew's
+training; if she was ever to teach him to speak correctly she must begin
+at once.
+
+“William,” she said sternly, “you must not talk so much like a negro.
+Instead of saying 'I sho' is hongry,' you should say, 'I am very
+hungry.' Listen to me and try to speak more correctly.”
+
+“Don't! don't!” she screamed as he helped himself to the meat and gravy,
+leaving a little brown river on her fresh white tablecloth. “Wait until
+I ask a blessing; then I will help you to what you want.”
+
+Billy enjoyed his breakfast very much. “These muffins sho' is--” he
+began; catching his aunt's eye he corrected himself--
+
+“These muffins am very good.”
+
+“These muffins are very good,” said Miss Minerva patiently.
+
+“Did you ever eat any bobbycued rabbit?” he asked. “Me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln been eatin' chit'lins, an' sweet 'taters, an' 'possum, an'
+squirrel, an' hoecake, an' Brunswick stew ever sence we's born,” was his
+proud announcement.
+
+“Use your napkin,” commanded she, “and don't fill your mouth so full.”
+
+The little boy flooded his plate with syrup.
+
+“These-here 'lasses sho' is--” he began, but instantly remembering that
+he must be more particular in his speech, he stammered out:
+
+“These-here sho' is--am--are a nice messer 'lasses. I ain't never eat
+sech a good bait. They sho' is--I aimed to say--these 'lasses sho' are a
+bird; they's 'nother sight tastier 'n sorghum, an' Aunt Cindy 'lows that
+sorghum is the very penurity of a nigger.”
+
+She did not again correct him.
+
+“I must be very patient,” she thought, “and go very slowly. I must not
+expect too much of him at first.”
+
+After breakfast Miss Minerva, who would not keep a servant, preferring
+to do her own work, tied a big cook-apron around the little boy's neck,
+and told him to churn while she washed the dishes. This arrangement did
+not suit Billy.
+
+“Boys don't churn,” he said sullenly, “me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln don'
+never have to churn sence we's born; 'omans has to churn an' I ain't
+agoing to. Major Minerva--he ain't never churn,” he began belligerently
+but his relative turned an uncompromising and rather perturbed back upon
+him. Realizing that he was beaten, he submitted to his fate, clutched
+the dasher angrily, and began his weary work.
+
+He was glad his little black friend did not witness his disgrace.
+
+As he thought of Wilkes Booth Lincoln the big tears came into his eyes
+and rolled down his cheeks; he leaned way over the churn and the great
+glistening tears splashed right into the hole made for the dasher, and
+rolled into the milk.
+
+Billy grew interested at once and laughed aloud; he puckered up his
+face and tried to weep again, for he wanted more tears to fall into the
+churn; but the tears refused to come and he couldn't squeeze another one
+out of his eyes.
+
+“Aunt Minerva,” he said mischievously, “I done ruint yo' buttermilk.”
+
+“What have you done?” she inquired.
+
+“It's done ruint,” he replied, “you'll hafter th'ow it away; 't ain't
+fitten fer nothin.' I done cried 'bout a bucketful in it.”
+
+“Why did you cry?” asked Miss Minerva calmly. “Don't you like to work?”
+
+“Yes 'm, I jes' loves to work; I wish I had time to work all the time.
+But it makes my belly ache to churn,--I got a awful pain right now.”
+
+“Churn on!” she commanded unsympathetically.
+
+He grabbed the dasher and churned vigorously for one minute.
+
+“I reckon the butter's done come,” he announced, resting from his
+labors.
+
+“It hasn't begun to come yet,” replied the exasperated woman. “Don't
+waste so much time, William.”
+
+The child churned in silence for the space of two minutes, and
+suggested: “It's time to put hot water in it; Aunt Cindy always puts hot
+water in it. Lemme git some fer you.”
+
+“I never put hot water in my milk,” said she, “it makes the butter
+puffy. Work more and talk less, William.”
+
+Again there was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the dasher
+thumping against the bottom of the churn, and the rattle of the dishes.
+
+“I sho' is tired,” he presently remarked, heaving a deep sigh. “My
+arms is 'bout give out, Aunt Minerva. Ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny
+Pearline see a man churn with his toes; lemme git a chair an' see if I
+can't churn with my toes.”
+
+“Indeed you shall not,” responded his annoyed relative positively.
+
+“Sanctified Sophy knowed a colored 'oman what had a little dog went
+roun' an' roun' an' churn fer her,” remarked Billy after a short pause.
+“If you had a billy goat or a little nanny I could hitch him to the
+churn fer you ev'ry day.”
+
+“William,” commanded his aunt, “don't say another word until you have
+finished your work.”
+
+“Can't I sing?” he asked.
+
+She nodded permission as she went through the open door into the
+dining-room.
+
+Returning a few minutes later she found him sitting astride the churn,
+using the dasher so vigorously that buttermilk was splashing in every
+direction, and singing in a clear, sweet voice:
+
+   “He'll feed you when you's naked,
+    The orphan stear he'll dry,
+    He'll clothe you when you's hongry
+    An' take you when you die.”
+
+Miss Minerva jerked him off with no gentle hand.
+
+“What I done now?” asked the boy innocently, “'tain't no harm as I can
+see jes' to straddle a churn.”
+
+“Go out in the front yard,” commanded his aunt, “and sit in the swing
+till I call you. I'll finish the work without your assistance. And,
+William,” she called after him, “there is a very bad little boy
+who lives next door; I want you to have as little to do with him as
+possible.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+                   SWEETHEART AND PARTNER
+
+
+Billy was sitting quietly in the big lawn-swing when his aunt, dressed
+for the street, finally came through the front door.
+
+“I am going up-town, William,” she said, “I want to buy you some
+things that you may go with me to church Sunday. Have you ever been to
+Sunday-School?”
+
+“Naw 'm; but I been to pertracted meetin',” came the ready response,
+“I see Sanctified Sophy shout tell she tore ev'y rag offer her back
+'ceptin' a shimmy. She's one 'oman what sho' is got 'ligion; she ain't
+never backslid 't all, an' she ain't never fell f'om grace but one
+time--”
+
+“Stay right in the yard till I come back. Sit in the swing and don't go
+outside the front yard. I shan't be gone long,” said Miss Minerva.
+
+His aunt had hardly left the gate before Billy caught sight of a round,
+fat little face peering at him through the palings which separated Miss
+Minerva's yard from that of her next-door neighbor.
+
+“Hello!” shouted Billy. “Is you the bad little boy what can't play with
+me?”
+
+“What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?” came the answering
+interrogation across the fence.
+
+“I's come to live with her,” replied Billy. “My mama an' papa is dead.
+What's yo' name?”
+
+“I'm Jimmy Garner. How old are you? I'm most six, I am.”
+
+“Shucks, I's already six, a-going on seven. Come on, le's swing.”
+
+“Can't,” said the new acquaintance, “I've runned off once to-day, and
+got licked for it.”
+
+“I ain't never got no whippin' sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln 's
+born,” boasted Billy.
+
+“Ain't you?” asked Jimmy. “I 'spec' I been whipped more 'n a million
+times, my mama is so pertic'lar with me. She's 'bout the pertic'larest
+woman ever was; she don't 'low me to leave the yard 'thout I get a
+whipping. I believe I will come over to see you 'bout half a minute.”
+
+Suiting the action to the word Jimmy climbed the fence, and the two
+little boys were soon comfortably settled facing each other in the big
+lawn-swing.
+
+“Who lives over there?” asked Billy, pointing to the house across the
+street.
+
+“That's Miss Cecilia's house. That's her coming out of the front gate
+now.”
+
+The young lady smiled and waved her hand at them.
+
+“Ain't she a peach?” asked Jimmy. “She's my sweetheart and she is 'bout
+the swellest sweetheart they is.”
+
+“She's mine, too,” promptly replied Billy, who had fallen in love at
+first sight. “I's a-goin' to have her fer my sweetheart too.”
+
+“Naw, she ain't yours, neither; she's mine,” angrily declared the other
+little boy, kicking his rival's legs. “You all time talking 'bout you
+going to have Miss Cecilia for your sweetheart. She's done already
+promised me.”
+
+“I'll tell you what,” proposed Billy, “lemme have her an' you can have
+Aunt Minerva.”
+
+“I wouldn't have Miss Minerva to save your life,” replied Jimmy
+disrespectfully, “her nake ain't no bigger 'n that,” making a circle
+of his thumb and forefinger. “Miss Cecilia, Miss Cecilia,” he shrieked
+tantalizingly, “is my sweetheart.”
+
+“I'll betcher I have her fer a sweetheart soon as ever I see her,” said
+Billy.
+
+“What's your name?” asked Jimmy presently.
+
+“Aunt Minerva says it's William Green Hill, but 'tain't, it's jest plain
+Billy,” responded the little boy.
+
+“Ain't God a nice, good old man,” remarked Billy, after they had swung
+in silence for a while, with an evident desire to make talk.
+
+“That He is,” replied Jimmy, enthusiastically. “He's 'bout the
+forgivingest person ever was. I just couldn't get 'long at all 'thout
+Him. It don't make no differ'nce what you do or how many times you
+run off, all you got to do is just ask God to forgive you and tell him
+you're sorry and ain't going to do so no more, that night when you say
+your prayers, and it's all right with God. S'posing He was one of these
+wants-his-own-way kind o' mans, He could make Hi'self the troublesomest
+person ever was, and little boys couldn't do nothing a tall. I sure
+think a heap of God. He ain't never give me the worst of it yet.”
+
+“I wonder what He looks like,” mused Billy.
+
+“I s'pec' He just looks like the three-headed giant in Jack the
+Giant-Killer,” explained Jimmy, “'cause He's got three heads and one
+body. His heads are name' Papa, Son, and Holy Ghost, and His body is
+just name' plain God. Miss Cecilia 'splained it all to me and she
+is 'bout the splendidest 'splainer they is. She's my Sunday-School
+teacher.”
+
+“She's goin' to be my Sunday-School teacher, too,” said Billy serenely.
+
+“Yours nothing; you all time want my Sunday-School teacher.”
+
+“Jimmee!” called a voice from the interior of the house in the next
+yard.
+
+“Somebody's a-callin' you,” said Billy.
+
+“That ain't nobody but mama,” explained Jimmy composedly.
+
+“Jimmee-ee!” called the voice.
+
+“Don't make no noise,” warned that little boy, “maybe she'll give up
+toreckly.”
+
+“You Jimmee!” his mother called again.
+
+Jimmy made no move to leave the swing.
+
+“I don' never have to go 'less she says 'James Lafayette Garner,' then I
+got to hustle,” he remarked.
+
+“Jimmy Garner!”
+
+“She's mighty near got me,” he said softly; “but maybe she'll get tired
+and won't call no more. She ain't plumb mad yet.
+
+“James Garner!”
+
+“It's coming now,” said Jimmy dolefully.
+
+The two little boys sat very still and quiet.
+
+“James Lafayette Garner!”
+
+The younger child sprang to his feet.
+
+“I got to get a move on now,” he said; “when she calls like that she
+means business. I betcher she's got a switch and a hair-brush and
+a slipper in her hand right this minute. I'll be back toreckly,” he
+promised.
+
+He was as good as his word, and in a very short time he was sitting
+again facing Billy in the swing.
+
+“She just wanted to know where her embroid'ry scissors was,” he
+explained. “It don't matter what's lost in that house I'm always the one
+that's got to be 'sponsible and all time got to go look for it.”
+
+“Did you find 'em?” asked Billy.
+
+“Yep; I went right straight where I left 'em yeste'day. I had 'em trying
+to cut a piece of wire. I stole off and went down to Sam Lamb's house
+this morning and tooken breakfast with him and his old woman, Sukey,” he
+boasted.
+
+“I knows Sam Lamb,” said Billy, “I rode up on the bus with him.”
+
+“He's my partner,” remarked Jimmy.
+
+“He's mine, too,” said Billy quickly.
+
+“No, he ain't neither; you all time talking 'bout you going to have Sam
+Lamb for a partner. You want everything I got. You want Miss Cecilia and
+you want Sam Lamb. Well, you just ain't a-going to have 'em. You got to
+get somebody else for your partner and sweetheart.”
+
+“Well, you jest wait an' see,” said Billy. “I got Major Minerva.”
+
+“Shucks, they ain't no Major name' that away,” and Jimmy changed the
+subject. “Sam Lamb's sow's got seven little pigs. He lemme see 'em
+suck,” said Sam Lamb's partner proudly. “He's got a cow, too; she's got
+the worrisomest horns ever was. I believe she's a steer anyway.”
+
+“Shucks,” said the country boy, contemptuously, “You do' know a steer
+when you see one; you can't milk no steer.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+                    TURNING ON THE HOSE
+
+
+“Look! Ain't that a snake?” shrieked Billy, pointing to what looked to
+him like a big snake coiled in the yard.
+
+“Snake, nothing!” sneered his companion, “that's a hose. You all time
+got to call a hose a snake. Come on, let's sprinkle,” and Jimmy sprang
+out of the swing, jerked up the hose, and dragged it to the hydrant.
+“My mama don't never 'low me to sprinkle with her hose, but Miss Minerva
+she's so good I don' reckon she'll care,” he cried mendaciously.
+
+Billy followed, watched his companion screw the hose to the faucet, and
+turn the water on. There was a hissing, gurgling sound and a stream of
+water shot out, much to the rapture of the astonished Billy.
+
+“Won't Aunt Minerva care?” he asked, anxiously. “Is she a real 'ligious
+'oman?”
+
+“She is the Christianest woman they is,” announced the other child.
+“Come on, we'll sprinkle the street--and I don't want nobody to get in
+our way neither.”
+
+“I wish Wilkes Booth Lincoln could see us,” said Miss Minerva's nephew.
+
+A big, fat negress, with a bundle of clothes tied in a red table cloth
+on her head, came waddling down the sidewalk.
+
+Billy looked at Jimmy and giggled, Jimmy looked at Billy and giggled;
+then, the latter took careful aim and a stream of water hit the old
+woman squarely in the face.
+
+“Who dat? What's yo' doin'?” she yelled, as she backed off. “'I's
+a-gwine to tell yo' pappy, Jimmy Garner,” as she recognized one of the
+culprits. “Pint dat ar ho'e 'way f'om me, 'fo' I make yo' ma spank yuh
+slabsided. I got to git home an' wash. Drap it, I tell yuh!”
+
+Two little girls rolling two doll buggies in which reposed two enormous
+rag-babies were seen approaching.
+
+“That's Lina Hamilton and Frances Black,” said Jimmy, “they're my
+chums.”
+
+Billy took a good look at them. “They's goin' to be my chums, too,” he
+said calmly.
+
+“Your chums, nothing!” angrily cried Jimmy, swelling up pompously. “You
+all time trying to claim my chums. I can't have nothing a tall 'thout
+you got to stick your mouth in. You 'bout the selfishest boy they is.
+You want everything I got, all time.”
+
+The little girls were now quite near and Jimmy hailed them gleefully,
+forgetful of his anger.
+
+“Come on, Lina, you and Frances,” he shrieked, “and we can have the
+mostest fun. Billy here's done come to live with Miss Minerva and she's
+done gone up town and don't care if we sprinkle, 'cause she's got so
+much 'ligion.”
+
+“But you know none of us are allowed to use a hose,” objected Lina.
+
+“But it's so much fun,” said Jimmy; “and Miss Minerva she's so Christian
+she ain't going to raise much of a rough-house, and if she do we can run
+when we see her coming.”
+
+“I can't run,” said Billy, “I ain't got nowhere to run to an'--”
+
+“If that ain't just like you, Billy,” interrupted Jimmy, “all time
+talking 'bout you ain't got nowhere to run to; you don't want nobody to
+have no fun. You 'bout the picayunest boy they is.”
+
+Little Ikey Rosenstein, better known as “GooseGrease,” dressed in a
+cast-off suit of his big brother's, with his father's hat set rakishly
+back on his head and over his ears, was coming proudly down the street
+some distance off.
+
+“Yonder comes Goose-Grease Rosenstein,” said Jimmy gleefully. “When he
+gets right close le's make him hop.”
+
+“All right,” agreed Billy, his good humor restored, “le's baptize him
+good.”
+
+“Oh, we can't baptize him,” exclaimed the other little boy, “'cause he's
+a Jew and the Bible says not to baptize Jews. You got to mesmerize
+'em. How come me to know so much?” he continued condescendingly, “Miss
+Cecilia teached me in the Sunday-School. Sometimes I know so much I
+I feel like I'm going to bust. She teached me 'bout 'Scuffle little
+chillens and forbid 'em not,' and 'bout 'Ananias telled Sapphira he done
+it with his little hatchet,' and 'bout 'Lijah jumped over the moon in a
+automobile: I know everything what's in the Bible. Miss Cecilia sure
+is a crackerjack; she's 'bout the stylishest Sunday-School teacher they
+is.”
+
+“'T was the cow jumped over the moon,” said Frances, “and it isn't in
+the Bible; it's in Mother Goose.”
+
+“And Elijah went to Heaven in a chariot of fire,” corrected Lina.
+
+“And I know all 'bout Gabr'el,” continued Jimmy unabashed. “When folks
+called him to blow his trumpet he was under the haystack fast asleep.”
+
+Ikey was quite near by this time to command the attention of the four
+children.
+
+“Let's mesmerize Goose-Grease,” yelled Jimmy, as he turned the stream of
+water full upon him.
+
+Frances, Lina, and Billy clapped their hands and laughed for joy.
+
+With a terrified and angry shriek their victim, dripping water at every
+step, ran howling by his tormentors. When he reached a safe distance he
+turned around, shook a fist at them, and screamed back:
+
+“My papa is going to have you all arrested and locked up in the
+calaboose.”
+
+“Calaboose, nothing!” jeered Jimmy. “You all time wanting to put
+somebody in the calaboose 'cause they mesmerize you. You got to be
+mesmerized 'cause it's in the Bible.”
+
+A short, stout man, dressed in neat black clothes, was coming toward
+them.
+
+“Oh, that's the Major!” screamed Billy delightedly, taking the hose and
+squaring himself to greet his friend of the train, but Jimmy jerked it
+out of his hand, before either of them noticed him turning about, as if
+for something forgotten.
+
+“You ain't got the sense of a one-eyed tadpole, Billy,” he said. “That's
+Miss Minerva's beau. He's been loving her more 'n a million years. My
+mama says he ain't never going to marry nobody a tall 'thout he can get
+Miss Minerva, and Miss Minerva she just turns up her nose at anything
+that wears pants. You better not sprinkle him. He's been to the war and
+got his big toe shot off. He kilt 'bout a million Injuns and Yankees
+and he's name' Major 'cause he's a Confed'rit vetrun. He went to the war
+when he ain't but fourteen.”
+
+“Did he have on long pants?” asked Billy. “I call him Major Minerva--”
+
+“Gladys Maude's got the pennyskeeters,” broke in Frances importantly,
+fussing over her baby, “and I'm going to see Doctor Sanford. Don't you
+think she looks pale, Jimmy?”
+
+“Pale, nothing!” sneered the little boy. “Girls got to all time play
+their dolls are sick. Naw; I don't know nothing a tall 'bout your Gladys
+Maude.”
+
+Lina gazed up the street.
+
+“That looks like Miss Minerva to me 'way up yonder,” she remarked. “I
+think we had better get away from here before she sees us.”
+
+Two little girls rolling two doll buggies fairly flew down the street
+and one little boy quickly climbed to the top of the dividing fence.
+From this safe vantage point he shouted to Billy, who was holding the
+nozzle of the hose out of which poured a stream of water.
+
+“You 'd better turn that water off 'cause Miss Minerva's going to be
+madder 'n a green persimmon.”
+
+“I do' know how to,” said Billy forlornly. “You turnt it on.”
+
+“Drop the hose and run to the hydrant and twist that little thing at
+the top,” screamed Jimmy. “You all time got to perpose someping to get
+little boys in trouble anyway,” he added ungenerously.
+
+“You perposed this yo'self,” declared an indignant Billy. “You said Aunt
+Minerva's so 'ligious she wouldn't git mad.”
+
+“Christian womans can get just as mad as any other kind,” declared the
+other boy, sliding from his perch on the fence and running across his
+lawn to disappear behind his own front door.
+
+Holding her skirts nearly up to her knees Miss Minerva stepped gingerly
+along the wet and muddy street till she got to her gate, where her
+nephew met her, looking a little guilty, but still holding his head up
+with that characteristic, manly air which was so attractive.
+
+“William,” she said sternly, “I see you have been getting into mischief,
+and I feel it my duty to punish you, so that you may learn to be
+trustworthy. I said nothing to you about the hose because I did not
+think you would know how to use it.”
+
+Billy remained silent. He did not want to betray his little companions
+of the morning, so he said nothing in his own defense.
+
+“Come with me into the house,” continued his aunt, “you must go to bed
+at once.”
+
+But the child protested vigorously.
+
+“Don' make me go to bed in the daytime, Aunt Minerva; me an' Wilkes
+Booth Lincoln ain't never went to bed in the daytime since we's born,
+an' I ain't never hear tell of a real 'ligious 'oman a-puttin' a little
+boy in bed 'fore it's dark; an' I ain't never a-goin' to meddle with yo'
+ole hose no mo'.”
+
+But Miss Minerva was obdurate, and the little boy spent a miserable hour
+between the sheets.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+                    SUCCESSFUL STRATEGY.
+
+
+“I have a present for you,” said his aunt, handing Billy a long,
+rectangular package.
+
+“Thank you, ma'am,” said her beaming nephew as he sat down on the floor,
+all eager anticipation, and began to untie the string. His charming,
+changeful face was bright and happy again, but his expression became one
+of indignant amaze as he saw the contents of the box.
+
+“What I want with a doll?” he asked angrily, “I ain't no girl.”
+
+“I think every little boy should have a doll and learn to make clothes
+for it,” said Miss Minerva. “I don't want you to be a great, rough boy;
+I want you to be sweet and gentle like a little girl; I am going to
+teach you how to sew and cook and sweep, so you may grow up a comfort to
+me.”
+
+This was a gloomy forecast for the little boy accustomed, as he had
+been, to the freedom of a big plantation, and he scowled darkly.
+
+“Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hafter play with no dolls
+sence we's born,” he replied sullenly, “we goes in swimmin' an' plays
+baseball. I can knock a home-run an' pitch a curve an' ketch a fly.
+Why don't you gimme a baseball bat? I already got a ball what Admiral
+Farragut gimme. An' I ain't agoin' to be no sissy neither. Lina an'
+Frances plays dolls, me an' Jimmy--” he stopped in sudden confusion.
+
+“Lina and Frances and James!” exclaimed his aunt. “What do you know
+about them, William?”
+
+The child's face flushed. “I seen 'em this mornin',” he acknowledged.
+
+Miss Minerva put a hand on either shoulder der and looked straight into
+his eyes.
+
+“William, who started that sprinkling this morning?” she questioned,
+sharply.
+
+Billy flushed guiltily and lowered his eyelids; but only for an instant.
+Quickly recovering his composure he returned her gaze steadily and
+ignored her question.
+
+“I see yo' beau too, Aunt Minerva,” he remarked tranquilly.
+
+It was Miss Minerva this time who lost her composure, for her thin,
+sallow face became perfectly crimson.
+
+“My beau?” she asked confusedly. “Who put that nonsense into your head?”
+
+“Jimmy show him to me,” he replied jauntily, once more master of the
+situation and in full realization of the fact. “Why don't you marry him,
+Aunt Minerva, so's he could live right here with us? An' I could learn
+him how to churn. I s'pec' he 'd make a beautiful churner. He sho' is a
+pretty little fat man,” he continued flatteringly. “An' dress? That beau
+was jest dressed plumb up to the top notch. I sho' would marry him if
+I's you an' not turn up my nose at him 'cause he wears pants, an' you
+can learn him how to talk properer'n what he do an' I betcher he'd jest
+nachelly take to a broom, an' I s'pec' he ain't got nobody 'tall to show
+him how to sew. An' y' all could get the doctor to fetch you a little
+baby so he wouldn't hafter play with no doll. I sho' wisht we had him
+here,” ended a selfish Billy, “he could save me a lot of steps. An'
+I sho' would like to hear 'bout all them Injuns an' Yankees what he's
+killed.”
+
+Billy's aunt was visibly embarrassed.
+
+The persistent admiration of this, her one lover, had been pleasing to
+her, yet she had never been willing to sacrifice her independence for
+the cares and trials of matrimony. The existing state of affairs between
+the two was known to every one in the small town, but such was Miss
+Minerva's dignified aloofness that Billy was the first person who had
+ever dared to broach the subject to her.
+
+“Sit down here, William,” she commanded, “and I will read to you.”
+
+“Tell me a tale,” he said, looking up at her with his bright, sweet
+smile. The doll lay neglected on a chair near by and Billy wanted her to
+forget it.
+
+“Tell me 'bout Piljerk Peter.”
+
+“Piljerk Peter?” there was an interrogation in her voice.
+
+“Yas 'm. Ain't you never hear tell 'bout Piljerk Peter? He had fifteen
+chillens an' one time the las' one of 'em an' his ole 'oman was down
+with the fever an' he ain't got but one pill an' they so sick they mos'
+'bout to die an' ain't nobody in the fiel' fer to pick the cotton an' he
+can't git no doctor an' he ain't got but jest that one pill; so he tie
+that pill to a string an' let the bigges' chile swaller it an' draw it
+back up an' let the nex' chile swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let
+the nex, Chile swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex' Chile
+swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex'--.”
+
+“I don't believe in telling tales to children,” interrupted his aunt, “I
+will tell you biographical and historical stories and stories from the
+Bible. Now listen, while I read to you.”
+
+“An' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up,” continued Billy
+serenely, “an' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up tell
+finely ev'y single one of 'em, plumb down to the baby, swaller that pill
+an' the las' one of 'em got well an' that one pill it done the work.
+Then he tuck the pill and give it to his ole 'oman an' she swaller it
+an' he jerk it back up but didn't nothin' 'tall come up but jest the
+string an' his ole 'oman she died 'cause all the strenk done gone outer
+that pill.”
+
+Miss Minerva opened a book called “Gems for the Household,” which she
+had purchased from a silvertongued book-agent. She selected an article
+the subject of which was “The Pure in Heart.”
+
+Billy listened with a seemingly attentive ear to the choice flow of
+words, but in reality his little brain was busy with its own thoughts.
+The article closed with the suggestion that if one were innocent and
+pure he would have a dreamless sleep--
+
+   “If you have a conscience clear,
+    And God's commands you keep;
+    If your heart is good and pure,
+    You will have a perfect sleep.”
+
+Billy's aunt concluded. Wishing to know if he had understood what she
+had just read she asked:
+
+“What people sleep the soundest?”
+
+“Niggers,” was his prompt reply, as he thought of the long summer days
+and the colored folk on the plantation.
+
+She was disappointed, but not discouraged.
+
+“Now, William,” she admonished, “I'm going to read you another piece,
+and I want you to tell me about it, when I get through. Pay strict
+attention.”
+
+“Yas 'm,” he readily agreed.
+
+She chose an article describing the keen sense of smell in animals.
+Miss Minerva was not an entertaining reader and the words were long and
+fairly incomprehensible to the little boy sitting patiently at her side.
+
+Again his thoughts wandered, though every now and then he caught a word
+or two.
+
+“What animals have the keenest sense of smell, William?” was her query
+at the conclusion of her reading.
+
+“Billy goats,” was Billy's answer without the slightest hesitation.
+
+“You have goats on the brain,” she said in anger. “I did not read one
+word about billy goats.”
+
+“Well, if 'taint a billy goat,” he replied, “I do' know what 'tis 'thout
+it's a skunk.”
+
+“I bought you a little primer this morning,” she remarked after a short
+silence, “and I want you to say a lesson every day.”
+
+“I already knows a lot,” he boasted. “Tabernicle, he 'an' Mercantile
+both been to school an' they learnt me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln. I knows
+crooked S, an' broken back K, an' curly tail Q, an' roun' O, an' I can
+spell c-a-t cat, an' d-o-g dog an' A stands fer apple.”
+
+That night he concluded his ever lengthy prayer at his kinswoman's knee
+with:
+
+“O Lord, please make for Aunt Minerva a little baby, make her two of
+'em. O Lord, if you got 'em to spare please make her three little babies
+an' let 'em all be girls so's she can learn 'em how to churn an' sew.
+An' bless Aunt Minerva and Major Minerva, f'r ever 'nd ever. Amen.”
+
+As he rose from his knees he asked: “Aunt Minerva, do God work on
+Sunday?”
+
+“No-o,” answered his relative, hesitatingly.
+
+“Well, it look like He'd jest hafter work on Sunday, He's so busy jest
+a-makin' babies. He makes all the niggers an' heathens an' Injuns an'
+white chillens; I reckon He gits somebody to help him. Don't you, Aunt
+Minerva?”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+                  RABBITS' AND OTHER EGGS
+
+
+Billy was sitting in the swing. Jimmy crawled over the fence and joined
+him.
+
+“Miss Cecilia's dyeing me some Easter eggs,” he said, “all blue and pink
+and green and yelluh and every kind they is; I tooken her some of our
+hen's eggs and she is going to fix 'em for me and they'll be just like
+rabbit's eggs; I reckon I'll have 'bout a million. I'll give you one,”
+ he added generously.
+
+“I want more 'n one,” declared Billy, who was used to having the lion's
+share of everything.
+
+“You all time talking 'bout you want more 'n one egg,” said Jimmy.
+“You 'bout the stingiest Peter they is. Ain't you got no eggs? Get Miss
+Minerva to give you some of hers and I'll take 'em over and ask Miss
+Cecilia to dye 'em for you 'cause you ain't 'quainted with her yet.”
+
+“Aunt Minerva ain't got none 'cep'in' what she put under a of hen fer to
+set this mornin':”
+
+“Can't you get 'em from under the old hen? Miss Minerva is such a
+Christian woman, she ain't--”
+
+“You done fool me 'bout that 'ligious business befo',” interrupted
+Billy, “an' I got put to bed in the daytime.”
+
+“Well, she won't never miss two or three eggs,” coaxed Jimmy. “How many
+did she put under the old hen?”
+
+“She put fifteen,” was the response, “an' I don't believe she'd want me
+to tech 'em.”
+
+“They 're 'bout the prettiest eggs ever was,” continued the tempter,
+“all blue and pink and green, and 'bout a million kinds. They're just
+perzactly like rabbit's eggs.”
+
+“Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hear teller no rabbit's eggs
+sence we's born,” said Billy; “I don't berlieve rabbits lays eggs
+nohow.”
+
+“They don' lay 'em 'cept to Easter,” said Jimmy. “Miss Cecilia 'splained
+it all to me and she's my Sunday-School teacher and rabbits is bound
+to lay eggs 'cause it's in the Bible and she's 'bout the prettiest
+'splainer they is. I'm going over there now to see 'bout my eggs,” and
+he made believe to leave the swing.
+
+“Le's us slip roun' to the hen-house an' see what the of hen's a-doin',”
+ suggested the sorely tempted Billy. “Aunt Minerva is a-makin' me some
+nightshirts an' she ain't takin' no notice of nothin' else.”
+
+They tiptoed stealthily around the house to the back-yard, but found the
+hen-house door locked.
+
+“Can't you get the key?” asked the younger child.
+
+“Naw, I can't,” replied the other boy, “but you can git in th'oo
+this-here little hole what the chickens goes in at, whiles I watches fer
+Aunt Minerva. I'll stand right here an' hol' my cap whiles you fetches
+me the eggs. An' don't you take more 'n five or six,” he warned.
+
+“I'm skeered of the old hen,” objected Jimmy. “Is she much of a pecker?”
+
+“Naw, she ain't a-goin' to hurt you,” was the encouraging reply. “Git up
+an' crawl th'oo; I'll help you.”
+
+Billy, having overcome his scruples, now entered into the undertaking
+with great zest.
+
+Jimmy climbed the chicken ladder, kicked his chubby legs through the
+aperture, hung suspended on his fat little middle for an instant, and
+finally, with much panting and tugging, wriggled his plump, round body
+into the hen-house. He walked over where a lonesome looking hen was
+sitting patiently on a nest. He put out a cautious hand and the hen
+promptly gave it a vicious peck.
+
+“Billy,” he called angrily, “you got to come in here and hold this old
+chicken; she's 'bout the terriblest pecker they is.”
+
+Billy stuck his head in the little square hole. “Go at her from behind,”
+ he suggested; “put yo' hand under her easy like, an' don' let her know
+what you's up to.”
+
+Jimmy tried to follow these instructions, but received another peck for
+his pains. He promptly mutinied.
+
+“If you want any eggs,” he declared, scowling at the face framed in
+the aperture, “you can come get 'em yourself. I done monkeyed with this
+chicken all I'm going to.”
+
+So Billy climbed up and easily got his lean little body through the
+opening. He dexterously caught the hen by the nape of the neck, as he
+had seen Aunt Cindy do, while Jimmy reached for the eggs.
+
+“If we ain't done lef' my cap outside on the groun',” said Billy. “What
+we goin' to put the eggs in?”
+
+“Well, that's just like you, Billy, you all time got to leave your cap
+on the ground. I'll put 'em in my blouse till you get outside and then
+I'll hand 'em to you. How many you going to take?”
+
+“We might just as well git 'em all now,” said Billy. “Aunt Cindy say
+they's some kinder hens won't lay no chickens 't all if folks put they
+hands in they nests an' this here hen look like to me she's one of them
+kind, so the rester the egg'll jest be waste, any how, 'cause you done
+put yo' han's in her nes', an' a dominicker ain't a-goin' to stan' no
+projeckin' with her eggs. Hurry up.”
+
+Jimmy carefully distributed the eggs inside his blouse, and Billy once
+more crawled through the hole and stood on the outside waiting, cap in
+hand, to receive them.
+
+But the patient hen had at last raised her voice in angry protest and
+set up a furious cackling, which so frightened the little boy on the
+inside that he was panic-stricken. He caught hold of a low roost pole,
+swung himself up and, wholly unmindful of his blouse full of eggs,
+pushed his lower limbs through the hole and stuck fast. A pair of
+chubby, sturdy legs, down which were slowly trickling little yellow
+rivulets, and half of a plump, round body were all that would go
+through.
+
+“Pull!” yelled the owner of the short fat legs. “I'm stuck and can't go
+no furder. Pull me th'oo, Billy.”
+
+About this time the defrauded fowl flew from her nest and attempted
+to get out by her rightful exit. Finding it stopped up by a wriggling,
+squirming body she perched herself on the little boy's neck and flapped
+her enraged wings in his face.
+
+“Pull!” yelled the child again, “help me th'oo, Billy, 'fore this fool
+chicken pecks all the meat off 'm my bones.”
+
+Billy grabbed the sticky limbs and gave a valiant tug, but the body did
+not move an inch. Alas, Jimmy with his cargo of broken eggs was fast
+imprisoned.
+
+“Pull again!” yelled the scared and angry child, “you 'bout the idjetest
+idjet they is if you can't do no better 'n that.”
+
+Billy jerked with all his strength, but with no visible result.
+
+“Pull harder! You no-count gump!” screamed the prisoner, beating off the
+hen with his hands.
+
+The boy on the outside, who was strong for his years, braced himself
+and gave a mighty wrench of the other child's stout extremities. Jimmy
+howled in pain and gave his friend an energetic kick.
+
+“Lemme go!” he shrieked, “you old impe'dunt backbiter. I'm going to tell
+Miss Minerva you pulled my legs out by the roots.”
+
+A small portion of the prisoner's blouse was visible. Billy caught hold
+of it and gave a strong jerk. There was a sound of ripping and tearing
+and the older boy fell sprawling on his back with a goodly portion of
+the younger child's raiment in his hands.
+
+“Now see what you done,” yelled the victim of his energy, “you ain't
+got the sense of a buffalo gnat. Oh! oh! This hole is 'bout to cut my
+stomach open.”
+
+“Hush, Jimmy!” warned the other child. “Don't make so much noise. Aunt
+Minerva'll hear you.”
+
+“I want her to hear me,” screamed Jimmy. “You'd like me to stay stuck in
+a chicken hole all night. Oh! oh! oh!”
+
+The noise did indeed bring Billy's aunt out on a tour of investigation.
+She had to knock a plank off the hen-house with an axe before Jimmy's
+release could be accomplished. He was lifted down, red, angry, sticky,
+and perspiring, and was indeed a sight to behold.
+
+“Billy got to all time perpose something to get little boys in
+trouble,” he growled, “and got to all time get 'em stuck in a hole in a
+chicken-house.”
+
+“My nephew's name is William,” corrected she.
+
+“You perposed this here yo'self!” cried an indignant Billy. “Me an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln don' know nothin' 't all 'bout no rabbit's eggs
+sence we's born.”
+
+“It doesn't matter who proposed it,” said his aunt firmly. “You
+are going to be punished, William. I have just finished one of your
+night-shirts. Come with me and put it on and go to bed. Jimmy, you go
+home and show yourself to your mother.”
+
+“Pick up yo' shirt-tail offer the groun' what I tore off, Jimmy,”
+ advised Billy, “an' take it home to yo' ma. Aunt Minerva,” he pleaded,
+following mournfully behind her, “please don't put me to bed; the Major
+he don' go to bed no daytimes; I won't never get me no mo' eggs to make
+rabbit's eggs outer.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+                      TELLERS OF TALES
+
+
+The days flew rapidly by. Miss Minerva usually attempted to train Billy
+all the morning, and by the midday dinner hour she was so exhausted that
+she was glad to let him play in the front yard during the afternoon.
+
+Here he was often joined by the three children whose acquaintance he had
+made the day after his arrival, and the quartette became staunch friends
+and chums.
+
+All four were sitting in the swing one warm spring day, under the
+surveillance of Billy's aunt, sewing on the veranda.
+
+“Let's tell tales,” suggested Jimmy.
+
+“All right,” agreed Frances. “I'll tell the first. Once there's--”
+
+“Naw, you ain't neither,” interrupted the little boy. “You all time
+talking 'bout you going to tell the first tale. I'm going to tell the
+first tale myself. One time they's--”
+
+“No, you are not either,” said Lina positively. “Frances is a girl and
+she ought to be the first if she wants to. Don't you think so, Billy?”
+
+“Yas, I does,” championed he; “go on, Frances.”
+
+That little girl, thus encouraged, proceeded to tell the first tale:
+
+“Once there's a man named Mr. Elisha, and he had a friend named
+Mr. Elijah, so his mantelpiece fell on top of his head and make him
+perfectly bald; he hasn't got a single hair and he hasn't got any money,
+'cause mama read me 'bout he rented his garments, which is clo'es,
+'cause he didn't have none at all what belong to him. I spec' he just
+rented him a shirt and a pair o' breeches and wore 'em next to his hide
+'thout no undershirt at all. He was drea'ful poor and had a miser'ble
+time and old mean Mr. Per'dventure took him up on a high mountain and
+left him, so when he come down some bad little childern say, 'Go 'long
+back, bald head!' and they make pockmocks on him. Seems like everybody
+treat him bad, so he cuss 'em, so I never see anybody with a bald head
+'thout I run, 'cause I don't want to get cussed. So two Teddy bears come
+out of the woods and ate up forty-two hunderd of--”
+
+“Why, Frances,” reproved Lina, “you always get things wrong. I don't
+believe they ate up that many children.”
+
+“Yes, they did too,” championed Jimmy, “'cause it's in the Bible and
+Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout it to me, and she's our Sunday-School
+teacher and 'bout the bullyest 'splainer they is. Them Teddy bears ate
+up 'bout a million chillens, which is all the little boys and girls two
+Teddy bears can hold at a time.”
+
+“I knows a man what ain't got no hair 't all on his head,” remarked
+Billy; “he's a conjure-man an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been talkin'
+to him ever sence we's born an' he ain't never cuss us, an' I ain't
+never got eat up by no Teddy bears neither. Huccome him to be bald? He's
+out in the fiel' one day a-pickin' cotton when he see a tu'key buzzard
+an' he talk to her like this:
+
+    “'I say tu'key buzzard, I say,
+     Who shall I see unexpected today?'
+
+“If she flop her wings three times you goin' to see yo' sweetheart, but
+this-here buzzard ain't flop no wings 't all; she jes' lean over an'
+th'ow up on his head an' he been bald ever sence; ev'y single hair come
+out.”
+
+“Did you-all hear 'bout that 'Talian Dago that works on the section gang
+eating a buzzard?” asked Frances.
+
+“Naw,” said Billy. “Did it make him sick?”
+
+“That it did,” she answered; “he sent for Doctor Sanford and tells
+him, 'Me killa de big bird, me eat-a de big bird, de big bird make-a me
+seek.”'
+
+“Them Dagoes 'bout the funniest talking folks they is,” said Jimmy, “but
+they got to talk that way 'cause it's in the Bible. They 'sputed on the
+tower of Babel and the Lord say 'Confound you!' Miss Cecilia 'splained
+it all to me and she's 'bout the dandiest 'splainer they is.”
+
+“You may tell your tale now, Jimmy,” said Lina.
+
+“I'm going to tell 'bout William Tell 'cause he's in the Bible,” said
+Jimmy. “Once they's a man name'--”
+
+“William Tell isn't in the Bible,” declared Lina.
+
+“Yes, he is too,” contended the little boy, “Miss Cecilia 'splained
+it to me. You all time setting yourself up to know more'n me and Miss
+Cecilia. One time they's a man name' William Tell and he had a little
+boy what's the cutest kid they is and the Devil come 'long and temp'
+him. Then the Lord say, 'William Tell, you and Adam and Eve can taste
+everything they is in the garden 'cepting this one apple tree; you can
+get all the pears and bunnanas and peaches and grapes and oranges and
+plums and persimmons and scalybarks and fig leaves and 'bout a million
+other kinds of fruit if you want to, but don't you tech a single apple.'
+And the Devil temp' him and say he going to put his cap on a pole and
+everybody got to bow down to it for a idol and if William Tell don't bow
+down to it he got to shoot a apple for good or evil off 'm his little
+boy's head. That's all the little boy William Tell and Adam and Eve
+got, but he ain't going to fall down and worship no gravy image on top a
+pole, so he put a tomahawk in his bosom and he tooken his bow and arrur
+and shot the apple plumb th'oo the middle and never swinge a hair of his
+head. And Eve nibble off the apple and give Adam the core, and Lina all
+time 'sputing 'bout Adam and Eve and William Tell ain't in the Bible.
+They 're our first parents.”
+
+“Now, Billy, you tell a tale and then it will be my time,” said Lina
+with a savingthe-best-for-the-last air.
+
+“Once they was a of witch,” said Billy, “what got outer her skin ev'y
+night an' lef' it on the he'rth an' turnt herself to a great, big, black
+cat an' go up the chim'ly an' go roun' an' ride folks fer horses, an'
+set on ev'ybody's chis' an' suck they breath an' kill 'em an' then come
+back to bed. An' can't nobody ketch her tell one night her husban' watch
+her an' he see her jump outer her skin an' drop it on the he'rth an'
+turn to a 'normous black cat an' go up the chim'ly. An' he got outer the
+bed an' put some salt an' pepper an' vinegar on the skin an' she come
+back an' turnt to a 'oman an' try to git back in her skin an' she can't
+'cause the salt an' pepper an' vinegar mos' burn her up, an' she keep on
+a-tryin' an' she can't never snuggle inter her skin 'cause it keep on a
+burnin' worser 'n ever, an' there she is a 'oman 'thout no skin on.
+So she try to turn back to a cat an' she can't 'cause it's pas' twelve
+erclock, an' she jest swivvle an' swivvle tell fine'ly she jest swivvle
+all up. An' that was the las' of the ole witch an' her husban' live
+happy ever after. Amen.”
+
+“Once upon a time,” said Lina, “there was a beautiful maiden and she
+was in love, but her wicked old parent wants her to marry a rich old
+man threescore and ten years old, which is 'most all the old you can get
+unless you are going to die; and the lovely princess said, 'No, father,
+you may cut me in the twain but I will never marry any but my true
+love.' So the wicked parent shut up the lovely maiden in a high tower
+many miles from the ground, and made her live on turnips and she had
+nothing else to eat; so one day when she was crying a little fairy flew
+in at the window and asked, 'Why do you weep, fair one?' And she said,
+'A wicked parent hath shut me up and I can't ever see my lover any
+more.' So the fairy touched her head with her wand and told her to hang
+her hair out of the window, and she did and it reached the ground, and
+her lover, holding a rope ladder in one hand and playing the guitar and
+singing with the other, climbed up by her hair and took her down on
+the ladder and his big black horse was standing near, all booted and
+spurred, and they rode away and lived happy ever after.”
+
+“How he goin' to clam' up, Lina,” asked Billy, “with a rope ladder in
+one hand and his guitar in the other?”
+
+“I don't know,” was the dignified answer. “That is the way it is told in
+my fairy-tale book.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+                   CHANGING THE ETHIOPIAN
+
+
+Billy and Jimmy were sitting in the swing.
+
+“What makes your hair curl just like a girl's?” asked the latter. “It's
+'bout the curliest hair they is.”
+
+“Yes, it do,” was Billy's mournful response. “It done worry me 'mos'
+to death. Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born we done try
+ev'ything fer to get the curl out. They was a Yankee man came 'long las'
+fall a-sellin' some stuff in a bottle what he call 'No-To-Kink' what he
+say would take the kink outer any nigger's head. An' Aunt Cindy bought
+a bottle fer to take the kink outer her hair an' me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln put some on us heads an' it jes' make mine curlier 'n what it
+was already. I's 'shame' to go roun' folks with my cap off, a-lookin'
+like a frizzly chicken. Miss Cecilia say she like it though, an' we's
+engaged. We's goin' to git married soon's I puts on long pants.”
+
+“How long you been here, Billy?” asked the other boy.
+
+“Well, I don't know perxactly, but I been to Sunday-School four times.
+I got engaged to Miss Cecilia that very firs' Sunday, but she didn' know
+it tell I went over to her house the nex' day an' tol' her 'bout it. She
+say she think my hair is so pretty.”
+
+“Pretty nothin',” sneered his rival. “She jus' stuffin' you fuller 'n a
+tick with hot air. It just makes you look like a girl. There's a young
+lady come to spend a week with my mama not long ago and she put somepin'
+on her head to make it right yeller. She left the bottle to our house
+and I know where 't is. Maybe if you'd put some o' that on your head 't
+would take the curl out.”
+
+“'Tain't nothin' a-goin' to do it no good,” gloomily replied Billy.
+“'Twould jest make it yeller 'n what 'tis now. Won't I be a pretty sight
+when I puts on long pants with these here yaller curls stuck on topper
+my head? I'd 'nuther sight ruther be bal'headed.”
+
+“Bennie Dick's got 'bout the kinkiest head they is.”
+
+Bennie Dick was the two-year-old baby of Mrs. Garner's cook, Sarah Jane.
+
+“It sho' is,” replied Billy. “Wouldn't he look funny if he had yaller
+hair, 'cause his face is so black?”
+
+“I know where the bottle is,” cried Jimmy, snatching eagerly at the
+suggestion. “Let's go get it and put some on Bennie Dick's head and see
+if it'll turn it yeller.”
+
+“Aunt Minerva don' want me to go over to yo' house,” objected Billy.
+
+“You all time talking 'bout Miss Minerva won't let you go nowheres; she
+sure is imperdunt to you. You 'bout the 'fraidest boy they is.... Come
+on, Billy,” pleaded Jimmy.
+
+The little boy hesitated.
+
+“I don't want to git Aunt Minerva's dander der up any more 'n I jest
+natchelly boun' to,” he said, following Jimmy reluctantly to the fence;
+“but I'll jes' take a look at that bottle an' see ef it looks anything
+'t all like 'No-To-Kink'.”
+
+Giggling mightily, they jumped the dividing fence and slipped with
+stealthy tread around the house to Sarah Jane's cabin in the back-yard.
+
+Bennie Dick was sitting on the floor before the open door, the entrance
+of which was, securely barricaded to keep him inside. Sarah Jane was in
+the kitchen cooking supper; they could hear her happy voice raised in
+religious melody; Mrs. Garner had not yet returned from a card party;
+the coast was clear, and the time propitious.
+
+Jimmy tiptoed to the house and soon returned with a big bottle of a
+powerful “blondine” in one hand and a stick of candy in the other.
+
+“Bennie Dick,” he said, “here's a nice stick of candy for you if you'll
+let us wash your head.”
+
+The negro baby's thick, red lips curved in a grin of delight, his shiny
+ebony face beamed happily, his round black eyes sparkled as he held out
+his fat, rusty little hands. He sucked greedily at the candy as the
+two mischievous little boys uncorked the bottle and, poured a generous
+supply of the liquid on his head. They rubbed it in well, grinning with
+delight. They made a second and a third application before the bottle
+was exhausted; then they stood off to view the result of their efforts.
+The effect was ludicrous. The combination of coal black skin and
+red gold hair presented by the little negro exceeded the wildest
+expectations of Jimmy and Billy. They shrieked with laughter and rolled
+over and over on the floor in their unbounded delight.
+
+“Hush!” warned Jimmy suddenly, “I believe Sarah Jane's coming out here
+to see 'bout Benny Dick. Let's get behind the door and see what she's
+going to do.”
+
+    “'Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      An' hit's good ernough fer me.'”
+
+floated Sarah Jane's song nearer and nearer.
+
+    “'Hit's de ole time erligion,
+      Hit's de ole time'”
+
+She caught sight of her baby with his glistening black face and golden
+hair. She threw up her hands, closed her eyes, and uttered a terrified
+shriek. Presently she slowly opened her eyes and took a second peep at
+her curious-looking offspring. Sarah Jane screamed aloud:
+
+“Hit's de handiwork er de great Jehoshaphat! Hit's de Marster's
+sign. Who turnt yo' hair, Benny Dick?” she asked of the sticky little
+pickaninny sitting happily on the floor. “Is a angel been here?”
+
+Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of comprehension.
+
+“Hit's de doing er de Lord,” cried his mother. “He gwine turn my chile
+white an' he done begunt on his head!”
+
+There was an ecstatic giggle from behind the door.
+
+Sarah Jane rushed inside as fast as her mammoth proportions would admit
+and caught a culprit in each huge black paw.
+
+“What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?” she asked. “What yer been
+er-doing?”
+
+Sudden suspicion entered her mind as she caught sight of the empty
+bottle lying on a chair. “You been er-putting' suthin' on my chile's
+head! I knows yer, I's er-gwine ter make yo' mammy gi' ye de worses'
+whippin' yer eber got an' I's gwine ter take dis here William right ober
+ter Miss Minerva. Ain't y' all 'shame' er yerselves? Er tamperin' wid de
+ha'r what de good Lord put on er colored pusson's head an' ertryin' fer
+ter scarify my feelin's like yer done. An' yer hear me, I's gwine see
+dat somebody got ter scarify yer hides.”
+
+“If that ain't just like you, Billy,” said Jimmy, “you all time got to
+perpose to make nigger heads yeller and you all time getting little boys
+in trouble. You 'bout the smart Alexist jack-rabbit they is.”
+
+“You perposed this here hair business yo'self, Jimmy,” retorted his
+fellow-conspirator. “You's always blamin' yo' meanness on somebody else
+ever sence you's born.”
+
+“Hit don't matter who perposed hit,” said Sarah Jane firmly; “meanness
+has been did, an' y' all gotter be structified on de place pervided by
+natur fer ter lem my chile erlone.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+                    LO! THE POOR INDIANS
+
+
+Billy had just decided to run down to the livery stable to pay Sam Lamb
+a visit when the gate opened, and Lina and Frances, their beloved dolls
+in their arms, came skipping in.
+
+Jimmy, who had had a difference with Billy and was in the sulks on his
+own side of the fence, immediately crawled over and joined the others
+in the swing. He was lonesome and the prospect of companionship was too
+alluring for him to nurse his anger longer.
+
+“Aunt Minerva's gone to the Aid Society,” remarked the host. “Don't y'
+all wish it met ev'y day 'stid 'er jes' meetin' ev'y Monday?”
+
+“Yes, I do,” agreed Frances, “you can have so much fun when our mamas
+go to the Aid. My mama's gone too, so she left me with Brother and he's
+writing a love letter to Ruth Shelton, so I slipped off.”
+
+“Mother has gone to the Aid, too,” said Lina.
+
+“My mama too,” chimed in Jimmy, “she goes to the Aid every Monday and to
+card parties nearly all the time. She telled Sarah Jane to 'tend to me
+and Sarah Jane's asleep. I hear her snoring. Ain't we glad there ain't
+no grown folks to meddle? Can't we have fun?”
+
+“What'll we play?” asked Frances, who had deliberately stepped in a mud
+puddle on the way, and splashed mud all over herself, “let's make mud
+pies.”
+
+“Naw, we ain't a-going to make no mud pies,” objected Jimmy. “We can
+make mud pies all time when grown folks 'r' looking at you.”
+
+“Le's's play sumpin' what we ain't never play, sence we 's born,” put in
+Billy.
+
+“I hope grandmother won't miss me.” said Lina, “she 's reading a very
+interesting book.”
+
+“Let's play Injun!” yelled Jimmy; “we ain't never play' Injun.”
+
+This suggestion was received with howls of delight.
+
+“My mama's got a box of red stuff that she puts on her face when she
+goes to the card parties. She never puts none on when she just goes to
+the Aid. I can run home and get the box to make us red like Injuns,”
+ said Frances.
+
+“My mother has a box of paint, too.”
+
+“I ain't never see Aunt Minerva put no red stuff on her face,” remarked
+Billy, disappointedly.
+
+“Miss Minerva, she don't never let the Major come to see her, nor go
+to no card parties is the reason,” explained the younger boy, “she just
+goes to the Aid where they ain't no men, and you don't hafter put no red
+on your face at the Aid. We'll let you have some of our paint, Billy. My
+mama's got 'bout a million diff'ent kinds.”
+
+“We got to have pipes,” was Frances's next suggestion.
+
+“My papa's got 'bout a million pipes,” boasted Jimmy, “but he got 'em
+all to the office, I spec'.”
+
+“Father has a meerschaum.”
+
+“Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe.”
+
+“Miss Minerva's 'bout the curiousest woman they is,” said Jimmy; “she
+ain't got nothing a tall; she ain't got no paint and she ain't got no
+pipe.”
+
+“Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway,” said Lina,
+“but we must have feathers; all Indians wear feathers.”
+
+“I'll get my mama's duster,” said Jimmy.
+
+“Me, too,” chimed in Frances.
+
+Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss
+Minerva's waning reputation.
+
+“Aunt Minerva's got a great, big buncher tu'key feathers an' I can git
+'em right now,” and the little boy flew into the house and was back in a
+few seconds.
+
+“We must have blankets, of course,” said Lina, with the air of one whose
+word is law; “mother has a genuine Navajo.”
+
+“I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me,” put in Jimmy.
+
+“We can use hatchets for tomahawks,” continued the little girl. “Come
+on, Frances; let us go home and get our things and come back here to
+dress up. Run, Jimmy, get your things! You, too, Billy!” she commanded.
+
+The children ran breathlessly to their homes nearby and collected the
+different articles necessary to transform them into presentable Indians.
+They soon returned, Jimmy dumping his load over the fence and tumbling
+after; and the happy quartette sat down on the grass in Miss Minerva's
+yard. First the paint boxes were opened and generously shared with
+Billy, as with their handkerchiefs they spread thick layers of rouge
+over their charming, bright, mischievous little faces.
+
+The feather decoration was next in order.
+
+“How we goin' to make these feathers stick?” asked Billy.
+
+They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the rescue.
+
+“Wait a minute,” he cried, “I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Jack
+Robinson'.”
+
+He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully
+holding up a bottle.
+
+“This muc'lage'll make 'em stick,” he panted, almost out of breath.
+
+Lina assumed charge of the head-dresses. She took Billy first, rubbed
+the mucilage well into his sunny curls, and filled his head full of
+his aunt's turkey feathers, leaving them to stick out awkwardly in all
+directions and at all angles. Jimmy and Frances, after robbing their
+mothers' dusters, were similarly decorated, and last, Lina, herself, was
+tastefully arrayed by the combined efforts of the other three.
+
+At last all was in readiness.
+
+Billy, regardless of consequences, had pinned his aunt's newest grey
+blanket around him and was viewing, with satisfied admiration, its long
+length trailing on the-grass behind him; Lina had her mother's treasured
+Navajo blanket draped around her graceful little figure; Frances, after
+pulling the covers off of several beds and finding nothing to suit her
+fanciful taste, had snatched a gorgeous silk afghan from the leather
+couch in the library. It was an expensive affair of intricate pattern,
+delicate stitches; and beautiful embroidery with a purple velvet border
+and a yellow satin lining. She had dragged one corner of it through the
+mud puddle and torn a big rent in another place.
+
+Jimmy was glorious in a bright red blanket, carrying his little bow and
+arrow.
+
+“I'm going to be the Injun chief,” he boasted.
+
+“I'm going to be a Injun chief, too,” parroted Frances.
+
+“Chief, nothing!” he sneered, “you all time trying to be a Injun chief.
+You 'bout the pompousest little girl they is. You can't be a chief
+nohow; you got to be a squash, Injun ladies 'r' name' squashes; me an'
+Billy's the chiefs. I'm name' old Setting Bull, hi'self.”
+
+“You can't be named 'Bull,' Jimmy,” reproved Lina, “it isn't genteel to
+say 'bull' before people.”
+
+“Yes, I am too,” he contended. “Setting Bull's the biggest chief they is
+and I'm going to be name' him.”
+
+“Well, I am not going to play then,” said Lina primly, “my mother wants
+me to be genteel, and 'bull' is not genteel.”
+
+“I tell you what, Jimmy,” proposed Frances, “you be name' 'Setting Cow.
+'Cow' is genteel 'cause folks milk 'em.”
+
+“Naw, I ain't going to be name' no cow, neither,” retorted the little
+Indian, “you all time trying to 'suade somebody to be name' 'Setting
+Cow'.”
+
+“He can't be name' a cow,”--Billy now entered into the
+discussion--“'cause he ain't no girl. Why don' you be name' 'Settin'
+Steer'? Is 'steer' genteel, Lina?” he anxiously inquired.
+
+“Yes, he can be named 'Sitting Steer',” she granted. Jimmy agreeing to
+the compromise, peace was once more restored.
+
+“Frances and Lina got to be the squashes,” he began.
+
+“It isn't 'squashes,' it is 'squaws,”' corrected Lina.
+
+“Yes, 'tis squashes too,” persisted Jimmy, “'cause it's in the Bible
+and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she's 'bout the high-steppingest
+'splainer they is. Me and Billy is the chiefs,” he shouted, capering
+around, “and you and Frances is the squashes and got to have papooses
+strop' to your back.”
+
+“Bennie Dick can be a papoose,” suggested Billy.
+
+“I'm not going to be a Injun squash if I got to have a nigger papoose
+strapped to my back!” cried an indignant Frances. “You can strap him to
+your own back, Billy.”
+
+“But I ain't no squash,” objected that little Indian.
+
+“We can have our dolls for papooses,” said Lina, going to the swing
+where the dolls had been left. Billy pulled a piece of string from his
+pocket and the babies were safely strapped to their mothers' backs. With
+stately tread, headed by Sitting Steer, the children marched back and
+forth across the lawn in Indian file.
+
+So absorbed were they in playing Indian that they forgot the flight of
+time until their chief suddenly stopped, all his brave valor gone as he
+pointed with trembling finger up the street.
+
+That part of the Ladies' Aid Society which lived in West Covington was
+bearing down upon them.
+
+“Yonder's our mamas and Miss Minerva,” he whispered. “Now look what a
+mess Billy's done got us in; he all time got to perpose someping to get
+chillens in trouble and he all time got to let grown folks ketch em.”
+
+“Aren't you ashamed to tell such a story, Jimmy Garner?” cried
+Frances. “Billy didn't propose any such thing. Come on, let's run,” she
+suggested.
+
+“'Tain't no use to run,” advised Jimmy. “They're too close and done
+already see us. We boun' to get what's coming to us anyway, so you might
+jus' as well make 'em think you ain't 'fraid of 'em. Grown folks got to
+all time think little boys and girls 'r' skeered of 'em, anyhow.”
+
+“Aunt Minerva'll sho' put me to bed this time,” said Billy. “Look like
+ev'y day I gotter go to bed.”
+
+“Mother will make me study the catechism all day to-morrow,” said Lina
+dismally.
+
+“Mama'll lock me up in the little closet under the stairway,” said
+Frances.
+
+“My mama'll gimme 'bout a million licks and try to take all the hide off
+o' me,” said Jimmy; “but we done had a heap of fun.”
+
+It was some hours later. Billy's aunt had ruthlessly clipped the turkey
+feathers from his head, taking the hair off in great patches. She had
+then boiled his scalp, so the little boy thought, in her efforts to
+remove the mucilage. Now, shorn of his locks and of some of his courage,
+the child was sitting quietly by her side, listening to a superior
+moral lecture and indulging in a compulsory heart-to-heart talk with his
+relative.
+
+“I don't see that it does you any good, William, to put you to bed.”
+
+“I don' see as it do neither,” agreed Billy.
+
+“I can not whip you; I am constitutionally opposed to corporal
+punishment for children.”
+
+“I's 'posed to it too,” he assented.
+
+“I believe I will hire a servant, so that I may devote my entire time to
+your training.”
+
+This prospect for the future did not appeal to her nephew. On the
+contrary it filled him with alarm.
+
+“A husban' 'd be another sight handier,” he declared with energy; “he
+'d be a heap mo' 'count to you 'n a cook, Aunt Minerva. There's that
+Major--”
+
+“You will never make a preacher of yourself, William, unless you
+improve.”
+
+The child looked up at her in astonishment; this was the first he knew
+of his being destined for the ministry.
+
+“A preacher what 'zorts an' calls up mourners?” he said,--“not on yo'
+tin-type. Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln--”
+
+“How many times have I expressed the wish not to have you bring that
+negro's name into the conversation?” she impatiently interrupted.
+
+“I don' perzactly know, 'm,” he answered good humoredly, “'bout
+fifty hunerd, I reckon. Anyways, Aunt Minerva, I ain't goin' to be no
+preacher. When I puts on long pants I's goin' to be a Confedrit Vet'run
+an' kill 'bout fifty hunderd Yankees an' Injuns, like my Major man.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+                     NOW RIDDLE ME THIS
+
+
+The children were sitting in the swing. Florence Hammer, a little girl
+whose mother was spending the day at Miss Minerva's, was with them.
+
+“Don't you-all wish Santa Claus had his birthday right now 'stead 'o
+waiting till Christmas to hang up our stockings?” asked Frances.
+
+“Christmas isn't Santa Claus' birthday,” corrected Lina. “God was born
+on Christmas and that's the reason we hang up our stockings.”
+
+“Yes; it is old Santa's birthday, too,” argued Jimmy, “'cause it's in
+the Bible and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she 'bout the dandiest
+'splainer they is.”
+
+“Which you-all like the best: God or Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus?”
+ asked Florence.
+
+“I like God 'nother sight better 'n I do anybody,” declared Jimmy,
+“'cause He so forgivingsome. He's 'bout the forgivingest person they is.
+Santa Claus can't let you go to Heaven nor Doctor Sanford neither, nor
+our papas and mamas nor Miss Minerva. Now wouldn't we be in a pretty fix
+if we had to 'pend on Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus to forgive you every
+time you run off or fall down and bust your breeches. Naw; gimme God evy
+time.”
+
+“I like Santa Claus the best,” declared Frances, “'cause he isn't
+f'rever getting in your way, and hasn't any castor oil like Doctor
+Sanford, and you don't f'rever have to be telling him you're sorry you
+did what you did, and he hasn't all time got one eye on you either, like
+God, and got to follow you 'round. And Santa Claus don't all time say,
+Shet your eyes and open your mouth,' like Doctor Sanford, 'and poke out
+your tongue.'”
+
+“I like Doctor Sanford the best,” said Florence, “'cause he 's my uncle,
+and God and Santa Claus ain't kin to me.”
+
+“And the Bible say, 'Love your kin-folks,' Miss Cecilia 'splained--”
+
+“I use to like my Uncle Doc' heap better 'n what I do now,” went on the
+little girl, heedless of Jimmy's interruption, “till I went with daddy
+to his office one day. And what you reckon that man's got in his office?
+He's got a dead man 'thout no meat nor clo'es on, nothing a tall but
+just his bones.”
+
+“Was he a hant?” asked Billy. “I like the Major best--he 's got meat
+on.”
+
+“Naw; he didn't have no sheet on--just bones,” was the reply.
+
+“No sheet on; no meat on!” chirruped Billy, glad of the rhyme.
+
+“Was he a angel, Florence?” questioned Frances.
+
+“Naw; he didn't have no harp and no wings neither.”
+
+“It must have been a skeleton,” explained Lina.
+
+“And Uncle Doc' just keeps that poor man there and won't let him go to
+Heaven where dead folks b'longs.”
+
+“I spec' he wasn't a good man 'fore he died and got to go to the Bad
+Place,” suggested Frances.
+
+“I'll betcher he never asked God to forgive him when he 'ceived his
+papa and sassed his mama,”--this from Jimmy, “and Doctor Sanford's just
+a-keeping old Satan from getting him to toast on a pitchfork.”
+
+“I hope they'll have a Christmas tree at Sunday-School next Christmas,”
+ said Frances, harking back, “and I hope I'll get a heap o' things like
+I did last Christmas. Poor little Tommy Knott he's so skeered he wasn't
+going to get nothing at all on the tree so he got him a great, big,
+red apple an' he wrote on a piece o' paper 'From Tommy Knott to Tommy
+Knott,' and tied it to the apple and put it on the tree for hi'self.”
+
+“Let's ask riddles,” suggested Lina.
+
+“All right,” shouted Frances, “I'm going to ask the first.”
+
+“Naw; you ain't neither,” objected Jimmy. “You all time got to ask the
+first riddle. I'm going to ask the first one--
+
+    “'Round as a biscuit, busy as a bee,
+      Prettiest little thing you ever did see?'--
+                                      'A watch.'
+
+    “Humpty Dumpty set on a wall,
+     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
+     All the king's horses and all the king's men
+     Can't put Humpty Dumpty back again.'
+                                      'A egg.'
+
+    “'Round as a ring, deep as a cup,
+      All the king's horses can't pull it up.'
+                                      'A well.'
+
+    “'House full, yard full, can't ketch--'”
+
+“Hush, Jimmy!” cried Lina, in disgust. “You don't know how to ask
+riddles. You must n't give the answers, too. Ask one riddle at a time
+and let some one else answer it. I'll ask one and see who can answer it:
+
+    “'As I was going through a field of wheat
+      I picked up something good to eat,
+     'Twas neither fish nor flesh nor bone,
+      I kept it till it ran alone?'”
+
+“A snake! A snake!” guessed Florence. “That's a easy riddle.”
+
+“Snake, nothing!” scoffed Jimmy, “you can't eat a snake. 'Sides Lina
+wouldn't 'a' picked up a snake. Is it a little baby rabbit, Lina?”
+
+“It was neither fish nor flesh nor bone,” she declared; “and a rabbit is
+flesh and bone.”
+
+“Then it's boun' to be a apple,” was Jimmy's next guess; “that ain't no
+flesh and blood and it's good to eat.”
+
+“An apple can't run alone,” she triumphantly answered. “Give it up?
+Well, it was an egg and it hatched to a chicken. Now, Florence, you ask
+one.”
+
+“S'pose a man was locked up in a house,” she asked, “how'd he get out?”
+
+“Clam' outer a winder,” guessed Billy.
+
+“'Twa'n't no winder to the house,” she declared.
+
+“Crawled out th'oo the chim'ly, like Santa Claus,” was Billy's next
+guess.
+
+“'Twa'n't no chim'ly to it. Give it up? Give it up?” the little girl
+laughed gleefully. “Well, he just broke out with measles.”
+
+“It is Billy's time,” said Lina, who seemed to be mistress of
+ceremonies.
+
+“Tabernicle learnt this here one at school; 'see, if y' all can guess
+it: 'Tabby had four kittens but Stillshee didn't have none 't all”'
+
+“I don't see no sense a tall in that,” argued Jimmy, “'thout some bad
+little boys drownded 'em.”
+
+“Tabby was a cat,” explained the other boy, “and she had four kittens;
+and Stillshee was a little girl, and she didn't have no kittens 't all.”
+
+“What's this,” asked Jimmy: “'A man rode'cross a bridge and Fido walked?
+'Had a little dog name' Fido.”
+
+“You didn't ask that right, Jimmy,” said Lina, “you always get things
+wrong. The riddle is, 'A man rode across a bridge and Yet he walked,'
+and the answer is, 'He had a little dog named Yet who walked across the
+bridge.'”
+
+“Well, I'd 'nother sight ruther have a little dog name' Fido,” declared
+Jimmy. “A little dog name' Yet and a little girl name' Stillshee ain't
+got no sense a tall to it.”
+
+“Why should a hangman wear suspenders?” asked Lina. “I'll bet nobody can
+answer that.”
+
+“To keep his breeches from falling off,” triumphantly answered Frances.
+
+“No, you goose, a hangman should wear suspenders so that he 'd always
+have a gallows handy.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+                 IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD.
+
+
+It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The pulpit of the Methodist Church
+was not occupied by its regular pastor, Brother Johnson. Instead, a
+traveling minister, collecting funds for a church orphanage in Memphis,
+was the speaker for the day. Miss Minerva rarely missed a service in her
+own church. She was always on hand at the Love Feast and the Missionary
+Rally and gave liberally of her means to every cause. She was sitting in
+her own pew between Billy and Jimmy, Mr. and Mrs. Garner having remained
+at home. Across the aisle from her sat Frances Black, between her father
+and mother; two pews in front of her were Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, with
+Lina on the outside next the aisle. The good Major was there, too; it
+was the only place he could depend upon for seeing Miss Minerva.
+
+The preacher, after an earnest and eloquent discourse from the text,
+“He will remember the fatherless,” closed the big Bible with a bang
+calculated to wake any who might be sleeping. He came down from the
+pulpit and stood close to his hearers as he made his last pathetic
+appeal.
+
+“My own heart,” said he, “goes out to every orphan child, for in the
+yellow fever epidemic of '78, when but two years old, I lost both father
+and mother. If there are any little orphan children here to-day, I
+should be glad if they would come up to the front and shake hands with
+me.”
+
+Now Miss Minerva always faithfully responded to every proposal made by a
+preacher; it was a part of her religious conviction. At revivals she was
+ever a shining, if solemn and austere, light. When a minister called for
+all those who wanted to go to Heaven to rise, she was always the first
+one on her feet. If he asked to see the raised hands of those who were
+members of the church at the tender age of ten years, Miss Minerva's
+thin, long arm gave a prompt response. Once when a celebrated evangelist
+was holding a big protracted meeting under canvas in the town and had
+asked all those who had read the book of Hezekiah in the Bible to stand
+up, Miss Minerva on one side of the big tent and her devoted lover on
+the other side were among the few who had risen to their feet. She had
+read the good book from cover to cover from Genesis to Revelation over
+and over so she thought she had read Hezekiah a score of times.
+
+So now, when the preacher called for little orphans to come forward, she
+leaned down and whispered to her nephew, “Go up to the front, William,
+and shake hands with the nice kind preacher.”
+
+“Wha' fer?” he asked. “I don' want to go up there; ev'ybody here'll look
+right at me.”
+
+“Are there no little orphans here?” the minister was saying. “I want to
+shake the hand of any little child who has had the misfortune to lose
+its parents.”
+
+“Go on, William,” commanded his aunt. “Go shake hands with the
+preacher.”
+
+The little boy again demurred but, Miss Minerva insisting, he obediently
+slipped by her and by his chum. Walking gracefully and jauntily up the
+aisle to the spot where the lecturer was standing by a broad table, he
+held out his slim, little hand.
+
+Jimmy looked at these proceedings of Billy's in astonishment, not
+comprehending at all. He was rather indignant that the older boy had not
+confided in him and invited his participation.
+
+But Jimmy was not the one to sit calmly by and be ignored when there was
+anything doing, so he slid awkwardly from the bench before Miss Minerva
+knew what he was up to. Signaling Frances to follow, he swaggered
+pompously behind Billy and he, too, held out a short, fat hand to the
+minister.
+
+The speaker smiled benignly down upon them; lifting them up in his arms
+he stood the little boys upon the table. He thought the touching sight
+of these innocent and tender little orphans would empty the pockets of
+the audience. Billy turned red with embarrassment at his conspicuous
+position, while Jimmy grinned happily at the amused congregation.
+Horrified Miss Minerva half rose to her feet, but decided to remain
+where she was. She was a timid woman and did not know what course she
+ought to pursue. Besides, she had just caught the Major's smile.
+
+“And how long have you been an orphan?” the preacher was asking of
+Billy.
+
+“Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born,” sweetly responded the
+child.
+
+“I 'bout the orphantest boy they is,” volunteered Jimmy.
+
+Frances, responding to the latter's invitation, had crawled over her
+father's legs before he realized what was happening. She, too, went
+sailing down the aisle, her stiff white dress standing straight up in
+the back like a strutting gobbler's tail. She grabbed hold of the man's
+hand, and was promptly lifted to the table beside the other “orphans.”
+ Tears stood in the good preacher's eyes as he turned to the tittering
+audience and said in a pathetic voice, “Think of it, my friends, this
+beautiful little girl has no mother.”
+
+Poor Mrs. Black! A hundred pairs of eyes sought her pew and focused
+themselves upon the pretty young woman sitting there, red, angry, and
+shamefaced. Mr. Black was visibly amused and could hardly keep from
+laughing aloud.
+
+As Frances passed by the Hamiltons' pew in her promenade down the aisle,
+Mrs. Hamilton leaned across her husband and made an attempt to clutch
+Lina; but she was too late; already that dignified little “orphan” was
+gliding with stately, conscious tread to join the others. This was too
+much for the audience. A few boys laughed out and for the first time
+the preacher's suspicions were aroused. As he clasped Lina's slender,
+graceful little hand he asked:
+
+“And you have no father or mother, little girl?”
+
+“Yes, I have, too,” she angrily retorted. “My father and mother are
+sitting right there,” and she pointed a slim forefinger to her crimson,
+embarrassed parents.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+                   JOB AND POLLIE BUMPUS
+
+
+“I never have told a downright falsehood,” said Lina. “Mother taught
+me how wicked it is to tell stories. Did you ever tell a fib to your
+mother, Frances?”
+
+“'Tain't no use to try to 'ceive my mama,” was the reply of the other
+little girl; “she's got such gimlet eyes and ears she can tell with 'em
+shut if you're fibbing. I gave up hope long ago, so I just go 'long and
+tell her the plain gospel truth when she asks me, 'cause I know those
+gimlet eyes and ears of hers 're going to worm it out o' me somehow.”
+
+“Grown folks pin you down so close sometimes,” said Jimmy, “you bound to
+'varicate a little; and I always tell God I'm sorry. I tell my mama the
+truth 'most all time 'cepting when she asks questions 'bout things ain't
+none of her business a tall, and she all time want to know 'Who done
+it?' and if I let on it's me, I know she'll wear out all the slippers
+and hair-brushes they is paddling my canoe, 'sides switches, so I jus'
+say 'I do' know, 'm'--which all time ain't perzactly the truth. You ever
+tell Miss Minerva stories, Billy?”
+
+“Aunt Cindy always say, 't wa'n't no harm 't all to beat 'bout the bush
+an' try to th'ow folks offer the track 'long as you can, but if it come
+to the point where you got to tell a out-an'-out fib, she say for me
+always to tell the truth, an' I jest nachelly do like she say ever sence
+I's born,” replied Billy.
+
+The children swung awhile in silence. Presently Jimmy broke the quiet by
+remarking,
+
+“Don't you all feel sorry for old Miss Pollie Bumpus? She live all by
+herself, and she 'bout a million years old, and Doctor Sanford ain't
+never brung her no chillens 'cause she ain't got 'er no husban' to be
+their papa, and she got a octopus in her head, and she poor as a post
+and deaf as job's old turkey-hen.”
+
+“Job's old turkey-hen wasn't deaf,” retorted Lina primly; “she was very,
+very poor and thin.”
+
+“She was deaf, too,” insisted Jimmy, “'cause it's in the Bible. I know
+all 'bout job,” bragged he.
+
+“I know all 'bout job, too,” chirped Frances.
+
+“Job, nothing!” said Jimmy, with a sneer; “you all time talking 'bout
+you know all 'bout job; you 'bout the womanishest little girl they is.
+Now I know job 'cause Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout him to me. He's
+in the Bible and he sold his birthmark for a mess of potatoes and--”
+
+“You never can get anything right, Jimmy,” interrupted Lina; “that was
+Esau and it was not his birthmark, it was his birthstone; and he sold
+his birthstone for a mess of potash.”
+
+“Yas,” agreed Frances; “he saw Esau kissing Kate and Esau had to sell
+him his birthstone to keep his mouth shut.”
+
+“Mother read me all about job,” continued Lina; “he was afflicted with
+boils and his wife knit him a job's comforter to wrap around him, and
+he--”
+
+“And he sat under a 'tato vine;” put in Frances eagerly, “what God grew
+to keep the sun off o' his boils and--”
+
+“That was Jonah,” said Lina, “and it wasn't a potato vine; it was--”
+
+“No, 't wasn't Jonah neither; Jonah is inside of a whale's bel--”
+
+“Frances!”
+
+“Stommick,” Frances corrected herself, “and a whale swallow him, and
+how's he going to sit under a pumpkin vine when he's inside of a whale?”
+
+“It was not a pumpkin vine, it--”
+
+“And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting under a
+morning-glory vine.”
+
+“The whale vomicked him up,” said Jimmy.
+
+“What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in Miss Pollie
+Bumpus's head?” asked Billy.
+
+“'Tain't a octopus, it's a polypus,” explained Frances, “'cause she's
+named Miss Pollie. It's a someping that grows in your nose and has to
+be named what you's named. She's named Miss Pollie and she's got a
+polypus.”
+
+“I'm mighty glad my mama ain't got no Eva-pus in her head,” was Jimmy's
+comment. “Ain't you glad, Billy, your Aunt Minerva ain't got no Miss
+Minervapus?”
+
+“I sho' is,” fervently replied Miss Minerva's nephew; “she's hard 'nough
+to manage now like she is.”
+
+“I'm awful good to Miss Pollie,” said Frances. “I take her someping good
+to eat 'most every day. I took her two pieces of pie this morning; I ate
+up one piece on the way and she gimme the other piece when I got there.
+I jus' don't believe she could get 'long at all 'thout me to carry her
+the good things to eat that my mama sends her; I takes her pies all the
+time, she says they're the best smelling pies ever she smelt.”
+
+“You 'bout the piggiest girl they is,” said Jimmy, “all time got to eat
+up a poor old woman's pies. You'll have a Frances-pus in your stomach
+first thing you know.”
+
+“She's got a horn that you talk th'oo,” continued the little girl,
+serenely contemptuous of Jimmy's adverse criticism, “and 'fore I knew
+how you talk into it, she says to me one day, 'How's your ma?' and stuck
+that old horn at me; so I put it to my ear, too, and there we set; she
+got one end of the horn to her ear and I got the other end to my ear; so
+when I saw this wasn't going to work I took it and blew into it; you-all
+'d died a-laughing to see the way I did. But now I can talk th'oo it 's
+good's anybody.”
+
+“That is an ear trumpet, Frances,” said Lina, “it is not a horn.”
+
+“Le's play 'Hide the Switch,'” suggested Billy.
+
+“I'm going to hide it first,” cried Frances.
+
+“Naw, you ain't,” objected Jimmy, “you all time got to hide the switch
+first. I'm going to hide it first myself.”
+
+“No, I'm going to say 'William Com Trimbleton,'” said Frances, “and see
+who's going to hide it first. Now you-all spraddle out your fingers.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+                     Mr. ALGERNON JONES
+
+
+Again was it Monday, with the Ladies Aid Society in session. Jimmy was
+sitting on the grass in his own front yard, in full view of Sarah Jane,
+who was ironing clothes in her cabin with strict orders to keep him at
+home. Billy was in the swing in Miss Minerva's yard.
+
+“Come on over,” he invited.
+
+“I can't,” was the reply across the fence, “I'm so good now I 'bout got
+'ligion; I reckon I'm going to be a mish'nary or a pol'tician, one or
+t' other when I'm a grownup man 'cause I'm so good; I ain't got but five
+whippings this week. I been good ever since I let you 'suade me to play
+Injun. I'm the goodest little boy in this town, I 'spec'. Sometimes
+I get scared 'bout being so good 'cause I hear a woman say if you too
+good, you going to die or you ain't got no sense, one. You come on over
+here; you ain't trying to be good like what I'm trying, and Miss Minerva
+don't never do nothing a tall to you 'cepting put you to bed.”
+
+“I'd ruther to git whipped fifty hunderd times 'n to hafter go to bed
+in the daytime with Aunt Minerva lookin' at you. An' her specs can see
+right th'oo you plumb to the bone. Naw, I can't come over there 'cause
+she made me promise not to. I ain't never go back on my word yit.”
+
+“I hope mama won't never ask me to promise her nothing a tall, 'cause
+I'm mighty curious 'bout forgetting. I 'spec' I'm the most forgettingest
+little boy they is. But I'm so glad I'm so good. I ain't never going to
+be bad no more; so you might just as well quit begging me to come over
+and swing, you need n't ask me no more,--'tain't no use a tall.”
+
+“I ain't a-begging you,” cried Billy contemptuously, “you can set on yo'
+mammy's grass where you is, an' be good from now tell Jedgement Day an'
+'twon't make no change in my business.”
+
+“I ain't going to be 'ticed into no meanness, 'cause I'm so good,”
+ continued the reformed one, after a short silence during which he had
+seen Sarah Jane turn her back to him, “but I don't b'lieve it'll be
+no harm jus' to come over and set in the swing with you; maybe I can
+'fluence you to be good like me and keep you from 'ticing little boys
+into mischief. I think I'll just come over and set a while and help you
+to be good,” and he started to the fence. Sarah Jane turned around in
+time to frustrate his plans.
+
+“You git right back, Jimmy,” she yelled, “you git erway f'om dat-ar
+fence an' quit confabbin' wid datar Willyum. Fixin' to make some mo'
+Injuns out o' yo'selfs, ain't yeh, or some yuther kin' o' skeercrows?”
+
+Billy strolled to the other side of the big yard and climbed up and sat
+on the tall gate post. A stranger, coming from the opposite direction,
+stopped and spoke to him.
+
+“Does Mr. John Smith live here?” he asked.
+
+“Naw, sir,” was the reply; “don't no Mr. 'tall live here; jest me an'
+Aunt Minerva, an' she turns up her nose at anything that wears pants.”
+
+“And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?” the stranger's grin was
+ingratiating and agreeable.
+
+“Why, this here's Monday,” the little boy exclaimed. “Of course she's at
+the Aid; all the 'omans roun' here goes to the Aid on Monday.”
+
+“Your aunt is an old friend of mine,” went on the man, “and I knew she
+was at the Aid. I just wanted to find out if you'd tell the truth about
+her. Some little boys tell stories, but I am glad to find out you are so
+truthful. My name is Mr. Algernon Jones and I'm glad to know you. Shake!
+Put it there, partner,” and the fascinating stranger held out a grimy
+paw.
+
+Billy smiled down from his perch at him and thought he had never met
+such a pleasant man. If he was such an old friend of his aunt's maybe
+she would not object to him because he wore pants, he thought. Maybe she
+might be persuaded to take Mr. Jones for a husband. Billy almost
+hoped that she would hurry home from the Aid, he wanted to see the two
+together so.
+
+“Is you much of a cusser?” he asked solemnly, “'cause if you is you'll
+hafter cut it out on these premises.”
+
+Mr. Jones seemed much surprised and hurt at the question.
+
+“An oath never passed these lips,” replied the truthful gentleman.
+
+“Can you churn?”
+
+“Churn--churn?” with a reminiscent smile, “I can churn like a top.”
+
+Jimmy was dying of curiosity but the gate was too far away for him to
+do more than catch a word now and then. It was also out of Sarah Jane's
+visual line, so she knew nothing of the stranger's advent.
+
+“And you're here all by yourself?” insinuated Billy's new friend. “And
+the folks next door, where are they?”
+
+“Mrs. Garner's at the Aid an' Mr. Garner's gone to Memphis. That is they
+little boy a-settin' in they yard on they grass,” answered the child.
+
+“I've come to fix your Aunt Minerva's water pipe,” said truth-loving Mr.
+Jones. “Come, show me the way; I'm the plumber.”
+
+“In the bath-room?” asked the child. “I did n' know it needed no
+fixin'.”
+
+He led the agreeable plumber through the hall, down the long back-porch
+to the bathroom, remarking “I'll jes' watch you work.” And he seated
+himself in the only chair.
+
+Here is where Billy received one of the greatest surprises of his life.
+The fascinating stranger grabbed him with a rough hand and hissed:
+
+“Don't you dare open your mouth or I'll crack your head open and scatter
+your brains. I'll eat you alive.”
+
+The fierce, bloodshot eyes, which had seemed so laughing and merry
+before, now glared into those of the little boy as the man took a stout
+cord from his pocket, bound Billy to the chair, and gagged him with
+a large bath towel. Energetic Mr. Jones took the key out of the door,
+shook his fist at the child, went out, and locked the door behind him.
+
+Jimmy, seeing no hope of eluding Sarah Jane's vigilance, resorted to
+strategy and deceit.
+
+“'Tain't no fun setting out here,” he called to her, “so I 'm going in
+the house and take a nap.”
+
+She willingly consented, as she was through with her ironing and thought
+to snatch a few winks of sleep herself.
+
+The little boy slipped quietly through the house, noiselessly across
+the back-yard and into his father's big garden, which was separated
+from that of his neighbor by a high board-fence. He quickly climbed the
+fence, flew across Miss Minerva's tomato patch and tiptoed up her back
+steps to the back porch, his little bare feet giving no sign of his
+presence. Hearing curious noises coming from the bad-room, where Billy
+was bumping the chair up and down in his efforts to release his mouth,
+he made for that spot, promptly unlocked the door, and walked in. Billy
+by scuffling and tugging had freed his mouth from the towel that bound
+it at that moment.
+
+“Hush!” he whispered as Jimmy opened the door, “you'll get eat up alive
+if you don't look out.” His tone was so mysterious and thrilling and he
+looked so scared tied to the chair that the younger boy's blood almost
+froze in his veins.
+
+“What you doing all tied up so?” he asked in low, frightened tones.
+
+“Mr. Algernon Jones done it. I spec' he's a robber an' is jes'
+a-robberin' right now,” answered Billy.
+
+“I'll untie you,” said his chum.
+
+“Naw; you better not,” said Billy bravely. “He might git away. You leave
+me jes' like he fixed me so's you can try to ketch him. I hear him in
+the dinin'-room now. You leave me right here an' step over to yo' house
+an' 'phone to some mens to come and git him quick. Shet the do' ag'in
+an' don't make no noise. Fly, now!”
+
+And Jimmy did fly. He again took the garden route and in a minute was at
+the telephone with the receiver at his ear.
+
+“Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me,” he howled into the
+transmitter. “Gimme Miss Minerva's beau. I don't know his number, but
+he's got a office over my papa's bank.”
+
+His father being out of town, the little boy shrewdly decided that Miss
+Minerva's beau was the next best man to help capture the robber.
+
+“Miss Minerva what lives by me,” he shrieked.
+
+Fortunately Central recognized his childish voice and was willing to
+humor him, so as she too knew Miss Minerva's beau. The connection was
+quickly made.
+
+“Hello! Is that you, Major? This is me. If you don't want Mr. Algernon
+Jones to be robbering everything Miss Minerva's got you better get a
+move on and come right this minute. You got to hustle and bring 'bout a
+million pistols and guns and swords and tomahawks and all the mans you
+can find and dogs. He's the fiercest robber ever was, and he's already
+done tie Billy to a bath-room chair and done eat up 'bout a million cold
+biscuits, I spec'. All of us is 'bout to be slewed. Good-bye.”
+
+The plump, round gentleman at the other end of the wire heard
+this amazing message in the utmost confusion and consternation. He
+frantically rang the telephone again and again but could get no answer
+from the Garners' home so he put on his hat and walked the short
+distance to Miss Minerva's house.
+
+Jimmy was waiting to receive him at the front gate, having again eluded
+Sarah Jane's vigilance.
+
+“Hush!” he whispered mysteriously, “he's in the dining-room. Ain't you
+bringed nobody else? Get your pistol and come on.”
+
+Mr. Algernon Jones, feeling safe and secure for the next hour and having
+partaken of a light lunch, was in the act of transferring some silver
+spoons from the sideboard to his pockets when a noise at the dining-room
+door caused him to look in that direction. With an oath he sprang
+forward, and landed his fist upon the nose of a plump gentleman standing
+there, bringing a stream of blood and sending him sprawling to the
+floor. Mr. Jones overturned a big-eyed little boy who was in his way
+and, walking rapidly in the direction of the railroad, the erstwhile
+plumber was seen no more.
+
+Jimmy quickly recovered himself and sprang to his feet. Seeing the blood
+streaming down the white shirt front of Miss Minerva's unconscious beau,
+he gathered his wits together and took the thread of events again into
+his own little hands. He flung himself over the fence, careless of Sarah
+Jane this time, mounted a chair and once more rang the telephone.
+
+“Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me some more. Gimme Doctor
+Sanford's office, please.”
+
+“Hello! Is that you, Doctor? This is me. Mr. Algernon Jones done kilt
+Miss Minerva's beau. He's on her back-porch bloody all over. He's 'bout
+the deadest man they is. You 'd better come toreckly you can and bring
+the hearse, and a coffin and a clean shirt and a tombstone. He's wounded
+me but I ain't dead yet. Good-bye.”
+
+Doctor Sanford received Jimmy's crazy message in astonishment. He, too,
+rang the telephone again and again but could hear nothing more, so he
+walked down to Miss Minerva's house and rang the door-bell. Jimmy opened
+the door and led the way to the back-porch, where the injured man, who
+had just recovered consciousness, was sitting limply in a chair.
+
+“What does all this mean? Are you hurt?” asked the Doctor as he examined
+Mr. Jones's victim.
+
+“No, I think I'm all right now,” was the reply; “but that scoundrel
+certainly gave me a severe blow.”
+
+Billy, shut up in the bath-room and listening to all the noise and
+confusion, had been scared nearly out of his senses. He had kept as
+still as a mouse till now, when, thinking he heard friendly voices he
+yelled out, “Open the do' an' untie me.”
+
+“We done forgot Billy,” said the little rescuer, as he ran to the
+bath-room door and opened it. He was followed by the Doctor, who cut the
+cords that bound the prisoner.
+
+“Now, William,” commanded Doctor Sanford as they grouped themselves
+around the stout, plump gentleman in the chair, “begin at the beginning,
+and let us get at the bottom of this affair.”
+
+“Mr. Algernon Jones he come to the gate,” explained the little boy, “an'
+he say he goin' to fix the water pipe an' he say he's a plumber. He's a
+very 'greeable man, but I don't want Aunt Minerva to marry him, now. I
+was plumb tickled at him an' I tuck him to the bath-room an' fust thing
+I knowed he grabbed holter me an' shuck me like what you see a cat do a
+mouse, an' he say--”
+
+“And he'd more 'n a million whiskers,” interrupted Jimmy, who thought
+Billy was receiving too much attention, “and he--”
+
+“One at a time,” said the Doctor. “Proceed, William.”
+
+“An' he say he'll bust my brains outer my head if I holler, an' I ain't
+a-goin' to holler neither, an' he tie me to a chair an' tie my mouth up
+an' lock the do'--”
+
+“And I comed over,” said Jimmy eagerly, “and I run home and I see Mr.
+Algernon Jones is a robber and I 'phoned to Miss Minerva's beau, and
+if he'd brunged what I telled him, he wouldn't never got cracked in the
+face like Mr. Algernon Jones done crack him, and Billy got to all time
+let robbers in the house so they can knock mans and little boys down.”
+
+“While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away,” said the
+injured man.
+
+“That is so,” agreed Doctor Sanford, “so I'll go and find the Sheriff.”
+
+Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway, and she
+grabbed Jimmy by the arm.
+
+“Yaas,” she cried, “you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh 'ceitful
+caterpillar. Come on home dis minute.”
+
+“Lemme go, Sarah Jane,” protested the little boy, trying to jerk away
+from her, “I got to stay here and pertec' Billy and Miss Minerva's beau
+'cause they's a robber might come back and tie 'em up and make 'em bleed
+if I ain't here.”
+
+“Did Mr. Algernon Jones make all that blood?” asked an awe-stricken
+little boy gazing in admiration at the victim of Mr. Jones's energy.
+“You sho' is a hero to stan' up an' let him knock you down like he
+done.”
+
+“Yes,” cried Jimmy, as the black woman dragged him kicking and
+struggling through the hall, “we's all heroes, but I bet I'm the heroest
+hero they is, and I bet Miss Minerva's going to be mad 'bout you all
+spilling all that blood on her nice clean floor.”
+
+“Lemme see yo' big toe what was shot off by all them Yankees and Injuns
+what you killed in the war,” said Billy to Miss Minerva's beau.
+
+The Major smiled at the little boy; a man-to-man smile, full of good
+comradeship, humor, and understanding. Billy's little heart went out to
+him at once.
+
+“I can't take off my shoes at present,” said the veteran. “Well, I must
+be going; I feel all right now.”
+
+Billy looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
+
+“You couldn't never go 'thout yo' pants, could you?” he asked, “'cause
+Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises pants.”
+
+The man eyed him quizzically.
+
+“Well, no; I don't think I could,” he replied; “I don't think I'd look
+any better in a Mother Hubbard or a kimono.”
+
+The little boy sighed.
+
+“Which you think is the fitteness name,” asked he, “Billy or William.”
+
+“Billy, Billy,” enthusiastically came the reply.
+
+“I like mens,” said William Green Hill, “I sho' wisht you could come and
+live right here with me and Aunt Minerva.”
+
+“I wish so, too,” said the Major.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+                    BILLY, THE CREDULOUS
+
+
+After the advent and disappearance of the exciting Mr. Jones, Miss
+Minerva, much to Billy's joy, had a telephone put in the house. He sat
+in the hall the day it was put in waiting for it to ring.
+
+Jimmy, coming up on the front porch and through the half-open door and
+seeing him sitting there, rang the door bell just for a joke, ready to
+burst into a laugh when the other little boy turned around and saw
+who it was. Billy, however, in his eagerness mistook the ring for
+the telephone bell and joyfully climbed up on the chair, which he had
+stationed in readiness. He took down the receiver as he had seen Jimmy
+do in his home and, without once seeing that little boy standing a few
+feet from him, he yelled at the top of his lungs:
+
+“Hello! Who is that?”
+
+“This is Marie Yarbrough,” replied Jimmy from the doorway, instantly
+recognizing Billy's mistake.
+
+Marie Yarbrough was a little girl much admired by the two boys, as she
+had a pony and cart of her very own. However, she lived in a different
+part of the town and attended another Sunday-School, so they had no
+speaking acquaintance with her.
+
+“I jus' wanted to talk to you,” went on the counterfeit Marie, stifling
+a laugh and trying to talk like a girl. “I think you're 'bout the
+sweetest little boy they is and I want you to come to my party.”
+
+“I sho' will,” screamed the gratified Billy, “if Aunt Minerva'll lemme.
+What make you talk so much like Jimmy?”
+
+“Who?--that little old Jimmy Garner? I hope I don't talk like that
+chicken, he's 'bout the measliest boy they is and I like you 'nother
+sight better 'n him; you're a plumb jim-dandy, Billy,” came from the
+doorway.
+
+“So's you,” howled back the delighted and flattered Billy.
+
+Jimmy thought he would pop wide open in his efforts to keep from
+laughing.
+
+“How 'd you like to be my sweetheart?” he asked.
+
+“I's already promise' to marry Miss Cecilia when I puts on long pants,
+but if we ever gits a 'vorce I'd 'nother sight ruther have you 'n
+anybody. You can be my ladyfrien', anyhow,” was the loud reply.
+
+“I'm coming for you to go riding in my little pony and cart,” said a
+giggling Jimmy.
+
+“All right, I's going to ask Aunt Minerva to lemme go. Can't we take
+Jimmy too?”
+
+This was too much for the little boy. He had held himself in as long
+as possible. He burst into a peal of laughter so merry and so loud that
+Billy, turning, quickly, almost fell out of the chair.
+
+“What you doin', a-listening to me talk to Marie Yarbrough th'oo the
+telephone?” he questioned angrily.
+
+“Marie your pig's foot,” was the inelegant response. “That was just me
+a-talking to you all the time. You all time think you talking to little
+girls and all time 'tain't nobody but me.”
+
+A light dawned upon the innocent one. He promptly hung up the receiver
+and got down out of the chair. Before Jimmy was fully aware of his
+intention, Billy had thrown him to the floor and was giving him a good
+pommeling.
+
+“Say you got 'nough?” he growled from ibis position astride of the other
+boy.
+
+“I got 'nough, Billy,” repeated Jimmy.
+
+“Say you sorry you done it.”
+
+“I say I sorry I done it,” abjectly repeated the younger child. “Get up,
+Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open.”
+
+“Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart,” was the
+next command.
+
+“I say I ain't never going to tell nobody, cross my heart. Get up,
+Billy, 'fore you make me mad, and ain't no telling what I'll do to you
+if I get mad.”
+
+“Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk.”
+
+“I ain't going to say I'm nothing of the kind,” spiritedly replied the
+under-dog. “You all time wanting somebody to call theirselfs someping.
+You're a low-down Isabella skunk yourself.”
+
+“You got to say it,” insisted the victor, renewing hostilities.
+
+“I'll say I'm a Isabella 'cause Isabella discovered America and's in the
+Bible,” replied the tormented one; “Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me.”
+
+Billy accepted his compromise and Jimmy's flattened stomach, relieved of
+its burden, puffed out to its usual roundness as that little boy rose to
+his feet, saying:
+
+“Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you
+telephoning.”
+
+“He 'd better never hear tell of it,” was the threatening rejoinder.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+                    THE HUMBLE PETITION
+
+
+Billy, sitting in an old buggy in front of the livery stable, had just
+engaged in a long and interesting conversation with Sam Lamb.
+
+He was getting out of the vehicle when the sharp wire around a broken
+rod caught in the back of his trousers and tore a great hole. He felt
+a tingling pain and looked over his shoulder to investigate. Not being
+satisfied with the result, he turned his back to the negro and anxiously
+enquired, “Is my breeches tore, Sam?”
+
+“Dey am dat,” was the reply, “dey am busted Fm Dan ter Beersheba.”
+
+“What I goin' to do 'bout it?” asked the little boy, “Aunt Minerva sho'
+will be mad. These here's branspankin' new trousers what I ain't never
+wore tell today. Ain't you got a needle an' thread so's you can fix 'em.
+Sam?”
+
+“Nary er needle,” said Sam Lamb.
+
+“Is my union suit tore, too?” and Billy again turned his back for
+inspection.
+
+His friend made a close examination.
+
+“Yo' unions is injured plum scanerous,” was his discouraging decision,
+“and hit 'pears ter me dat yo' hide done suffer too; you's got er
+turrible scratch.”
+
+The child sighed. The injury to the flesh was of small importance,--he
+could hide that from his aunt--but the rent in his trousers was a
+serious matter.
+
+“I wish I could git 'em mended 'fore I goes home,” he said wistfully.
+
+“I tell you what do,” suggested Sam, “I 'low Miss Cecilia'll holp yeh;
+jest go by her house an' she'll darn 'em up fer yuh.”
+
+Billy hesitated.
+
+“Well, you see, Sam, me an' Miss Cecilia's engaged an' we's fixin' to
+marry jes' 's soon's I puts on long pants, an' I 'shame' to ask her. An'
+I don't berlieve young 'omans patches the breeches of young mans what
+they's goin' to marry nohow. Do you? Aunt Minerva ain' never patched no
+breeches for the Major. And then,” with a modest blush, “my unions is
+tore too, an' I ain't got on nothin' else to hide my skin.”
+
+Again he turned his back to his friend and, his clouded little face
+looking over his shoulder, he asked, “Do my meat show, Sam?”
+
+“She am visible ter the naked eye,” and Sam Lamb laughed loudly at his
+own wit.
+
+“I don't believe God pays me much attention nohow,” said the little
+boy dolefully; “ev'y day I gets put to bed 'cause sumpin's all time
+a-happenin'. If He'd had a eye on me like He oughter they wouldn't a
+been no snaggin'. Aunt Minerva's goin' to be mad th'oo an' th'oo.”
+
+“May be my of 'oman can fix 'em, so's dey won't be so turrible bad,”
+ suggested the negro, “'taint fer, so you jes' run down ter my cabin an'
+tell Sukey I say fix dem breeches.”
+
+The child needed no second bidding,--he fairly flew. Sam's wife was
+cooking, but she cheerfully stopped her work to help the little boy. She
+sewed up his union suit and put a bright blue patch on his brown linen
+breeches.
+
+Billy felt a little more cheerful, though he still dreaded confessing to
+his aunt and he loitered along the way till it was nearly dark. Supper
+was ready when he got home and he walked into the diningroom with his
+customary ease and grace. But he took his seat uneasily, and he was so
+quiet during the meal and ate so little that his aunt asked him if he
+were sick. He was planning in his mind how to break the news of the
+day's disaster to her.
+
+“You are improving, William,” she remarked presently, “you haven't got
+into any mischief to-day. You have been a mighty good little boy now for
+two days.”
+
+Billy flushed at the compliment and shifted uneasily in his seat. That
+patch seemed to burn him.
+
+“If God'd jest do His part,” he said darkly, “I wouldn't never git in no
+meanness.”
+
+After supper Miss Minerva washed the dishes in the kitchen sink and
+Billy carried them back to the dining-room. His aunt caught him several
+times prancing sideways in the most idiotic manner. He was making a
+valiant effort to keep from exposing his rear elevation to her; once he
+had to walk backward.
+
+“William,” she said sharply, “you will break my plates. What is the
+matter with you to-night?”
+
+A little later they were sitting quietly in Miss Minerva's room. She
+was reading “The Christian at Home,” and he was absently looking at a
+picture book.
+
+“Sam Lamb's wife Sukey sho' is a beautiful patcher,” he remarked,
+feeling his way.
+
+She made no answering comment, and the discouraged little boy was silent
+for a few minutes. He had worn Aunt Cindy's many-colored patches too
+often to be ashamed of this one for himself, but he felt that he would
+like to draw his aunt out and find how she stood on the subject of
+patches.
+
+“Aunt Minerva,” he presently asked, “what sorter patches 'd you ruther
+wear on yo' pants, blue patches or brown?”
+
+“On my what?” she asked, looking at him severely over her paper.
+
+“I mean if you's me,” he hastily explained. “Don't you think blue
+patches is the mos' nat'ral lookin'?”
+
+“What are you driving at, William?” she asked; but without waiting for
+his answer she went on with her reading.
+
+The child was silent for a long time, his little mind busy, then he
+began, “Aunt Minerva?”
+
+She peered at him over her glasses a second, then dropped her eyes to
+the paper where an interesting article on Foreign Missions held her
+attention.
+
+“Aunt Minerva, I snagged--Aunt Minerva, I snagged my--my skin, to-day.”
+
+“Let me see the place,” she said absently, her eyes glued to a paragraph
+describing a cannibal feast.
+
+“I's a-settin' on it right now,” he replied.
+
+Another long silence ensued. Billy resolved to settle the matter.
+
+“I's gettin' sleepy,” he yawned. “Aunt Minerva, I wants to say my
+prayers and go to bed.”
+
+She laid her paper down and he dropped to his knees by her side. He
+usually sprawled all over her lap during his lengthy devotions, but
+to-night he clasped his little hands and reared back like a rabbit on
+its haunches.
+
+After he had rapidly repeated the Lord's prayer, which he had
+recently learned, and had invoked blessings on all his new friends and
+never-to-be-forgotten old ones, he concluded with:
+
+“An', O Lord, You done kep' me f'om meddlin' with Aunt Minerva's hose
+any mo', an' you done kep' me f'om gittin' any mo' Easter eggs, an'
+playin' any mo' Injun, an' You done kep' me f'om lettin' Mr. Algernon
+Jones come ag'in, an' now, O Lord, please don't lemme worry the very
+'zistence outer Aunt Minerva any mo' 'n You can help, like she said I
+done this mornin,' an' please, if Thy will be done, don't lemme tear the
+next new breeches what she'll gimme like I done ruint thesehere what I
+got on.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+                     A GREEN-EYED BILLY
+
+
+“Have some candy?” said Miss Cecilia, offering a big box of bonbons to
+Billy, who was visiting her.
+
+“Where 'd you git 'em?” he asked, as he helped himself generously.
+
+“Maurice sent them to me this morning.”
+
+Billy put all his candy back into the box.
+
+“I don't believe I wants noner yo' candy,” he said, scowling darkly. “I
+reckon you likes him better 'n me anyhow, don't you?”
+
+“I love you dearly,” she replied.
+
+The child stood in front of her and looked her squarely in the eye. His
+little form was drawn to its full, proud height, his soft, fair cheeks
+were flushed, his big, beautiful, grey eyes looked somber and sad.
+
+“Is you in love with that red-headed Maurice Richmond an' jes' a-foolin'
+o' me?” he asked with dignity.
+
+A bright flush dyed crimson the young lady's pretty face.
+
+She put her arm around the childish, graceful figure and drew the little
+boy to the sofa beside her.
+
+“Now, honey, you mustn't be silly,” she said gently, “you are my own,
+dear, little sweetheart.”
+
+“An' I reckon he's yo' own, dear, big sweetheart,” said the jealous
+Billy. “Well, all I got to say is thishere; if he's a-goin' to come to
+see you ev'y day then I ain't never comin' no mo'. He's been acarryin'
+on his foolishness 'bout 's long as I can stand it. You got to chose
+'tween us right this minute; he come down here mos' ev'y day, he's tuck
+you drivin' more'n fifty hundred times, an' he's give you all the candy
+you can stuff.”
+
+“He is not the only one who comes to see me,” she said smiling down at
+him. “Jimmy comes often and Len Hamner and Will Reid. Don't you want
+them to come?”
+
+“Don't nobody pay no 'tention to Jimmy,” he replied contemptuously; “he
+ain't nothin' but a baby, an' them other mens can come if you wants
+'em to; but,” said Billy, with a lover's unerring intuition, “I ain't
+a-goin' to stand fer that long-legged, sorrel-top Maurice Richmond
+a-trottin' his great big carkiss down here ev'y minute. I wish Aunt
+Minerva 'd let me put on long pants to-morrer so 's we could git
+married.” He caught sight of a new ring sparkling on her finger.
+
+“Who give you that ring?” he asked sharply.
+
+“A little bird brought it to me,” she said, trying to speak gayly, and
+blushing again.
+
+“A big, red-headed peckerwood,” said Billy savagely.
+
+“Maurice loves you, too,”--she hoped to conciliate him; “he says you are
+the brightest kid in town.”
+
+“Kid,” was the scornful echo, “'cause he's so big and tall, he's got to
+call me a kid. Well, he'd jes' awasting' hi'self lovin' me; I don't like
+him an' I ain't agoin' to never like him an' soon's I puts on long pants
+he's goin' to get 'bout the worses' lickin' he ever did see.
+
+“Say, does you kiss him like you does me?” he asked presently, looking
+up at her with serious, unsmiling face.
+
+She hid her embarrassment in a laugh.
+
+“Don't be foolish, Billy,” she replied.
+
+“I'll bet he's kissed you more 'n fifty hunderd times.”
+
+“There's Jimmy whistling for you,” said Miss Cecilia. “How do you two
+boys make that peculiar whistle? I would recognize it anywhere.”
+
+“Is he ever kiss you yet?” asked the child.
+
+“I heard that you and Jimmy whipped Ed Brown because he imitated your
+own particular whistle. Did you?”
+
+“How many times is he kiss you?” asked Billy.
+
+The young girl put her arm around him and tried to nestle his little
+body against her own.
+
+“I'm too big, anyway, for your real sweetheart,” she said. “Why, by the
+time you are large enough to marry I should be an old maid. You must
+have Frances or Lina for your sweetheart.”
+
+“An' let you have Maurice!” he sneered.
+
+She stooped to lay her flushed cheek against his own.
+
+“Honey,” she softly said, “Maurice and I are going to be married soon; I
+love him very much and I want you to love him too.”
+
+He pushed her roughly from him.
+
+“An' you jes' 'ceived me all the time,” he cried, “an' me a-lovin' you
+better 'n anybody I ever see sence I's born? An' you a Sunday-School
+teacher? I ain't never a-goin' to trus' nobody no mo'. Good-bye, Miss
+Cecilia.”
+
+She caught his hand and held it fast; “I want you and Jimmy to be my
+little pages at the wedding, and wear dear little white satin suits all
+trimmed with gold braid,” she tried to be enthusiastic and arouse his
+interest; “and Lina and Frances can be little flower-girls and we'll
+have such a beautiful wedding.”
+
+“Jimmy an' Lina an' Frances can be all the pages an' flower-girls
+an' brides an' grooms they wants to, but you can't rope me in,” he
+scornfully replied. “I's done with you an' I ain't never goin' to have
+me no mo' sweetheart long's I live.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                   CLOSER THAN A BROTHER
+
+
+It was a bad, rainy day. Jimmy and Billy were playing in Sarah Jane's
+cabin, she, however, being in happy ignorance of the fact. Her large
+stays, worn to the preaching the night before, were hanging on the back
+of a chair. “Ain't I glad I don' have to wear no corset when I puts on
+long pants?” remarked Billy, pointing to the article. “Ain't that a big
+one? It's twice's big's Aunt Minerva's.”
+
+“My mama wears a big co'set, too,” said Jimmy; “I like fat womans
+'nother sight better 'n lean ones. Miss Minerva's 'bout the skinniest
+woman they is; when I get married I'm going to pick me out the fattest
+wife I can find, so when you set in her lap at night for her to rock you
+to sleep you'll have a soft place to put your head, while she sings to
+you.”
+
+“The Major--he's mos' plump enough for two,” said Billy, taking down the
+stays and trying to hook them around him.
+
+“It sho' is big,” he said; “I berlieve it's big 'nough to go 'round both
+of us.”
+
+“Le's see if 'tain't,” was the other boy's ready suggestion.
+
+He stood behind Billy and they put the stays around both little bodies,
+while, with much squeezing and giggling, Billy hooked them safely up
+the front. The boys got in front of Sarah Jane's one looking-glass and
+danced about laughing with glee.
+
+“We're like the twinses what was growed together like mama read me
+'bout,” declared the younger child.
+
+Presently they began to feel uncomfortable, especially Jimmy, whose fat,
+round little middle was tightly compressed.
+
+“Here, unhook this thing, Billy, and le's take her off,” he said. “I'm
+'bout to pop open.”
+
+“All right,” agreed his companion.
+
+He tugged and pulled, but could get only the top and bottom hooks
+unclasped; the middle ones refused to budge.
+
+“I can't get these-here hooks to come loose,” Billy said.
+
+Jimmy put his short, fat arms around him and tried his hand, but with
+no better success. The stays were such a snug fit that the hooks seemed
+glued.
+
+“We sho' is in a fix,” said Billy gloomily; “look like God all time
+lettin' us git in trouble.”
+
+“You think of more fool stunts to do, William Hill, than any boy they
+is,” cried the other; “you all time want to get us hooked up in Sarah
+Jane's corset and you all time can't get nobody loose. What you want to
+get us hooked up in this thing for?”
+
+“You done it yo'self,” defended the boy in front with rising passion.
+“Squeeze in, Jimmy; we jes' boun' to git outer this 'fore somebody finds
+it out.”
+
+He backed the other child close to the wall and pressed so hard against
+him that Jimmy screamed aloud and began to pound him on the head with
+his chubby fists.
+
+Billy would not submit tamely to any such treatment. He reached his hand
+behind him and gave the smaller boy's cheek a merciless pinch. The fight
+was on. The two little boys, laced up tightly as they were in a stout
+pair of stays, pinched and scratched, and kicked and jerked. Suddenly
+Billy, leaning heavily against Jimmy, threw him flat on his back and
+fell on top of him.
+
+Bennie Dick, sitting on the floor, had up to this time watched the
+proceedings with an interested eye; now, thinking murder was being
+committed, he opened his big, red mouth and emitted a howl that could be
+heard half a mile. It immediately brought his mother to the open door.
+When she saw the children squirming on the floor in her only corset, her
+indignation knew no bounds.
+
+“You, Jimmy Garner, an' you, too, William Hill, yuh little imps o'
+Satan, what you doin' in my house? didn't yo' mammy tell you not to
+tamper wid me no mo'? Git up an' come here an' lemme git my co'set off
+o' yuh.”
+
+Angry as she was she could not keep from laughing at the sight they
+presented, as, with no gentle hand, she unclasped the hooks and released
+their imprisoned bodies.
+
+“Billy all time--” began Jimmy.
+
+“Billy all time nothin,” said Sarah Jane, “'tain't no use fo' to try to
+lay dis-here co'set business onto Billy; both o' yuh is ekally in it.
+An' me a-aimin' fo' to go to three fun'els dis week an' a baptizin'
+on Sunday. S'pose y' all'd bruck one o' de splints, how'd I look
+a-presidin' at a fun'el 'thout nare co'set on, an' me shape' like what I
+is?”
+
+“Who's dead, Sarah Jane?” asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the torrent of her
+wrath.
+
+“Sis' Mary Ellen's las' husban', Brudder Littlejohn--dat 's a-who,” she
+replied, somewhat mollified at his interest.
+
+“When did he die?”--Jimmy pursued his advantage.
+
+“He got 'way f'om here 'bout moon-down las' night,” she replied, losing
+sight of her grievance in his flattering interrogations. “You know Sis'
+Littlejohn, she been married goin' on five times. Dis-here'll make fo'
+gentlemans she done buriet an' dey ain't nobody can manage a fun'el like
+she kin; 'pears like hit jes' come natchel to her. She sho' is done a
+good part by eb'ry single husban' too, an' she's figgerin' to outdo all
+the yuthers wid Brudder Littlejohn's co'pse.” Sarah Jane almost forgot
+her little audience in her intense absorption of her subject. “She say
+to me dis mornin', she say, 'Marri'ge am a lott'ry, Sis Beddinfiel', but
+I sho' is drawed some han'some prizes. 'She got 'em all laid out side
+by side in de buryin' groun' wid er little imige on ebry grabe; an', 'Sis
+Mary Ellen, seein' as she can't read de writin' on de tombstones, she
+got a diff'unt little animal asettin' on eb'ry head res' so's she kin
+tell which husban' am which. Her fus' husban' were all time ahuntin', so
+she got a little white marble pa'tridge arestin' on he' head, an' hit am
+a mighty consolement to a po' widda 'oman fo' to know dat she can tell
+de very minute her eyes light on er grabe which husban' hit am. Her
+secon' man he got er mighty kinky, woolly head an' he mighty meek, so
+she got a little white lamb a-settin' on he grabe; an' de nex husban' he
+didn't have nothin' much fo' to disgueese him f'om de res' 'cep'in' he
+so slow an' she might nigh rack her brain off, twell she happen to think
+'bout him bein' a Hardshell Baptis' an' so powerful slow, so she jest
+got a little tarrapim an' sot it on him. Hit sho' am a pretty sight jes'
+to go in dat buryin' groun' an' look at 'em all, side by side; an' now
+she got Brudder Littlejohn to add to de res'. He de onliest one what's
+got er patch o' whiskers so she gwine to put a little white cat on he'
+grabe. Yes, Lord, ef anythink could pearten' a widda 'oman hit would be
+jes' to know dat yuh could go to de grabeyard any time yuh want to an'
+look at dat han'some c'llection an' tell 'zactly which am which.”
+
+Sarah Jane stopped for breath and Billy hastened to inquire,
+
+“Who else is dead, Sarah Jane?”
+
+“'Tain't nobody else dead, yit, as I knows on, but my two cousins is
+turrible low; one's got a hemrage on de lung an' de yuther's got a
+congestin' on de brain, an' I 'lows dey'll bofe drap off 'twix' now an'
+sun-up to-morra.” Her eyes rolled around and happened to light on her
+corset. She at once returned to her grievance.
+
+“An' sposin' I hadn't 'av' came in here when I did? I'd 'a' had to went
+to my own cousins' fun'el 'thout nare co'set. Y' all gotta go right to
+y' all's mamas an' Miss Minerva dis very minute. I low dey'll settle yo'
+hashes. Don't y' all know dat Larroes ketch meddlers?”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+                     TWINS AND A SISSY
+
+
+Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Black were sitting on Miss Minerva's veranda
+talking to her, and Lira and Frances were in the swing with Billy.
+
+The attraction proved too great for Jimmy; he impolitely left a
+disconsolate little visitor sitting on his own porch while he jumped the
+fence and joined the other children.
+
+“Don't you all wish you could see Mrs. Brown's new twinses?” was his
+greeting as he took his seat by Billy.
+
+“Where'd she get 'em?” asked Frances.
+
+“Doctor Sanford tooken 'em to her last night.”
+
+“He muster found 'em in a holler stump,” remarked Billy. “I knows,
+'cause that's where Doctor Shacklefoot finds aller of Aunt Blue-Gum
+Tempy's Peruny Pearline's, an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been lookin'
+in evy holler stump we see ever sence we's born, an' we ain't never
+foun' no baby 't all, 'cause can't nobody but jes' doctors fin' 'em. I
+wish he'd a-give 'em to Aunt Minerva 'stidder Mrs. Brown.”
+
+“I wish he'd bringed 'em to my mama,” said Frances.
+
+“I certainly do think he might have given them to us,” declared Lina,
+“and I'm going to tell him so, too. As much money as father has paid him
+for doctor's bills and as much old, mean medicine as I have taken just
+to 'commodate him; then he gives babies to everybody but us.”
+
+“I'm awful glad he never give 'em to my mama,” said Jimmy, “'cause I
+never could had no more fun; they'd be stuck right under my nose all
+time, and all time put their mouth in everything you want to do, and all
+time meddling. You can't fool me 'bout twinses. But I wish I could see
+'em! They so weakly they got to be hatched in a nincubator.”
+
+“What's that?” questioned Frances.
+
+“That's a someping what you hatches chickens and babies in when they's
+delicate, and ain't got 'nough breath and ain't got they eyes open and
+ain't got no feathers on,” explained Jimmy.
+
+“Reckon we can see 'em?” she asked.
+
+“See nothing!” sniffed the little boy. “Ever sence Billy let Mr.
+Algernon Jones whack Miss Minerva's beau we can't do nothing at all
+'thout grown folks 'r' stuck right under your nose. I'm jes' cramped to
+death.”
+
+“When I'm a mama,” mused Frances, “I hope Doctor Sanford'll bring me
+three little twinses, and two Maltese kittens, and a little Japanee, and
+a monkey, and a parrit.”
+
+“When I'm a papa,” said Jimmy, “I don' want no babies at all, all they's
+good for is jus' to set 'round and yell.”
+
+“Look like God 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies,” remarked Billy.
+
+“Why, God don' have none 'a the trouble,” explained Jimmy. “He's just
+got Him a baby factory in Heaven like the chair factory and the canning
+factory down by the railroad, and angels jus' all time make they arms
+and legs, like niggers do at the chair factory, and all God got to do
+is jus' glue 'em together, and stick in their souls. God's got 'bout the
+easiest job they is.”
+
+“I thought angels jes' clam' the golden stair and play they harps,” said
+Billy.
+
+“Ain't we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia's wedding,” said Frances,
+after a short silence.
+
+“I'll betcher I'll be the cutest kid in that church,” boasted Jimmy
+conceitedly. “You coming, ain't you, Billy?”
+
+“I gotter go,” answered that jilted swain, gloomily, “Aunt Minerva ain't
+got nobody to leave me with at home. I jes' wish she'd git married.”
+
+“Why wouldn't you be a page, Billy?” asked Lina.
+
+“'Cause I didn't hafto,” was the snappish reply.
+
+“I bet my mama give her the finest present they is,” bragged the smaller
+boy; “I reckon it cost 'bout a million dollars.”
+
+“Mother gave her a handsome cut-glass vase,” said Lina.
+
+“It looks like Doctor Sanford would've give Miss Cecilia those twinses
+for a wedding present,” said Frances.
+
+“Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?” asked Lina,
+noticing for the first time a lonely-looking child.
+
+“That's Leon Tipton, Aunt Ella's little boy. He just come out from
+Memphis to spend the day with me and I'll be awful glad when he goes
+home; he's 'bout the stuck-up-est kid they is, and skeery? He's 'bout
+the 'fraidest young un ever you see. And look at him now? Wears long
+curls like a girl and don't want to never get his clean clo'es dirty.”
+
+“I think he's a beautiful little boy,” championed Lina. “Call him over
+here, Jimmy.”
+
+“Naw, I don't want to. You all'll like him a heap better over there;
+he's one o' these-here kids what the furder you get 'way from 'em, the
+better you like 'em.”
+
+“He sho' do look lonesome,” said Billy; “'vite him over, Jimmy.”
+
+“Leon!” screamed his cousin, “you can come over here if you wantta.”
+
+The lonesome-looking little boy promptly accepted the invitation, and
+came primly through the two gates. He walked proudly to the swing and
+stood, cap in hand, waiting for an introduction.
+
+“Why didn't you clam' the fence, 'stead of coming th'oo the gates?”
+ growled Jimmy. “You 'bout the prissiest boy they is. Well, why don't you
+set down?”
+
+“Introduce me, please,” said the elegant little city boy.
+
+“Interduce your grandma's pussy cats,” mocked Jimmy. “Set down, I tell
+you.”
+
+Frances and Lina made room for him between them and soon gave him their
+undivided attention, to the intense envy and disgust of the other two
+little boys.
+
+“I am Lina Hamilton,” said the little girl on his right.
+
+“And I'm Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to treat you like
+he does.”
+
+“I knows a turrible skeery tale,” remarked a malicious Billy, looking at
+Lina and Frances. “If y' all wa'n't girls I 'd tell it to you.”
+
+“We aren't any more scared 'n you, William Hill,” cried Frances, her
+interest at once aroused; “I already know 'bout 'raw meat and bloody
+bones' and nothing's scarier 'n that.”
+
+“And I know 'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be
+he alive or be he dead, I'll ground his bones to make me bread,”' said
+Lina.
+
+“This-here tale,” continued Billy, glueing his big eyes to those of the
+little stranger, “is one Tabernicle learnt fer a speech at school. It's
+all 'bout a 'oman what was buriet in a graveyard with a diamant ring on
+her finger, an' a robber come in the night--”
+
+The child's tones were guttural, thrilling, and hair-raising as he
+glared into the eyes of the effeminate Leon, “an' a robber come in the
+night an' try to cut it off, an' ha'nts was groanin' an' the win' moan
+'oo-oo' an--”
+
+Leon could stand it no longer.
+
+“I am going right back,” he cried rising with round, frightened eyes,
+“I am not going to sit here and listen to you, scaring little girls to
+death. You are a bad boy to scare Lina and Frances and I am not going
+to associate with you;” and this champion of the fair sex stalked with
+dignity across the yard to the gate.
+
+“I'm no more scared 'n nothing,” and indignant Frances hurled at his
+back, “you're just scared yourself.”
+
+Jimmy giggled happily. “What'd I tell you all,” he cried, gleefully.
+“Lina and Frances got to all time set little 'fraid cats 'tween 'em,” he
+snorted. “It's just like I tell you, he's the sissyest boy they is; and
+he don't care who kiss him neither; he'll let any woman kiss him what
+wants to. Can't no woman at all 'cepting my mama and Miss Cecilia kiss
+me. But Leon is 'bout the kissingest kid they is; why, he'd just as
+soon's not let Frances and Lina kiss him; he ain't got no better sense.
+'Course I gotta let Miss Cecilia kiss me 'cause she's 'bout the plumpest
+Sunday-School teacher they is and the Bible say 'If your Sunday-School
+teacher kiss you on one cheek turn the other cheek and let her kiss you
+on that, too,' and I all time bound to do what the Bible say. You 'd
+better call him back, Frances, and kiss him, you and Lina 're so stuck
+on him.”
+
+“I wouldn't kiss him to save his life,” declared Frances; “he's got the
+spindliest legs I ever saw.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+                    RISING IN THE WORLD
+
+
+The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of paint upon
+the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva's long back-porch. And he left his
+ladder leaning against the house while he went inside to confer with her
+in regard to some other work.
+
+Billy, Jimmy, Frances, and Lina had been playing “Fox and Geese.”
+ Running around the house they spied the ladder and saw no owner to deny
+them.
+
+“Le's clam' up and get on top the porch,” suggested Jimmy.
+
+“Aunt Minerva'll put me to bed if I do,” said Billy.
+
+“Mother'll make me learn a whole page of the catechism if I climb a
+ladder,” said Lina.
+
+“My mama'll shut me up in the closet, but our mamas aren't bound to know
+'bout it,”--this from Frances. “Come on, let's climb up.”
+
+“I ain't neverpromise not to clam' no ladder but--” Billy hesitated.
+
+“You-all 'bout the skeeriest folks they is,” sneered Jimmy. “Mama'll
+whip me going and coming if she finds out 'bout it, but I ain't skeered.
+I dare anybody to dare me to clam' up.”
+
+“I dare you to climb this ladder,” responded an accommodating Frances.
+
+“I ain't never tooken a dare yet,” boasted the little boy proudly, his
+foot on the bottom rung. “Who's going to foller me?”
+
+“Don't we have fun?” cried a jubilant Frances.
+
+“Yes,” answered Jimmy; “if grown folks don't all time be watching you
+and sticking theirselfs in your way.”
+
+“If people would let us alone,” remarked Lina, “we could enjoy ourselves
+every day.”
+
+“But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time,” cried
+Jimmy, “they don't never want us to play together.”
+
+He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy; and Lina
+brought up the rear. The children ran the long length of the porch
+leaving their footprints on the fresh, sticky paint.
+
+“Will it wash off?” asked Frances, looking gloomily down at her feet,
+which seemed to be encased in green moccasins.
+
+At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the roof. When
+the others helped her to her feet, she was a sight to behold, her white
+dress splotched with vivid green from top to bottom.
+
+“If that ain't jus' like you, Frances,” Jimmy exclaimed; “you all time
+got to fall down and get paint on your dress so we can't 'ceive nobody.
+Now our mamas bound to know 'bout us clamming up here.”
+
+“They would know it anyhow,” mourned Lina; “we'll never get this paint
+off of our feet. We had better get right down and see if we can't wash
+some of it off.”
+
+While they were talking the owner of the ladder, who had not noticed
+them--and was deaf in the bargain--had quietly removed it from the
+back-porch and carried it around to the front of the house.
+
+The children looked at each other in consternation when they perceived
+their loss.
+
+“What we goin' to do now?” asked Billy.
+
+“If this ain't just like Billy, all time got to perpose to clam' a
+ladder and all time got to let the ladder get loose from him,” growled
+Jimmy. “We done cooked a goose egg, this time. You got us up here,
+Billy, how you going to get us down?”
+
+“I didn't, neither.”
+
+“Well, it's Miss Minerva's house and she's your aunt and we's your
+company and you got to be 'sponsible.”
+
+“I can clam' down this-here post,” said the responsible party.
+
+“I can climb down it, too,” seconded Frances.
+
+“You can't clam' down nothing at all,” said Jimmy contemptuously. “Talk
+'bout you can clam' down a post; you'd fall and bust yourself wide open;
+you 'bout the clumsiest girl there is; 'sides, your legs 're too fat.”
+
+“We can holla,” was Lina's suggestion.
+
+“And have grown folks laughing fit to pop their sides open? I'm 'shame'
+to go anywheres now 'cause folks all time telling me when I'm going
+to dye some more Easter eggs! Naw, we better not holler,” said Jimmy.
+“Ain't you going to do nothing, Billy?”
+
+“I'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to bring
+his ladder back. Y' all wait up here.”
+
+Billy's solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they were soon
+released from their elevated prison.
+
+“I might as well go home and be learning the catechism,” groaned Lina.
+
+“I'm going to get right in the closet soon's I get to my house,” said
+Frances.
+
+“Go on and put on your night-shirt, Billy.” Billy took himself to the
+bath-room and scrubbed and scrubbed; but the paint refused to come off.
+He tiptoed by the kitchen where his aunt was cooking dinner and ran into
+his own room.
+
+He found the shoes and stockings which were reserved for Sunday wear,
+and soon had them upon his little feet.
+
+Miss Minerva rang the dinner-bell and he walked quietly into the
+dining-room trying to make as little noise and to attract as little
+attention from his aunt as possible; but she fastened her eyes at once
+upon his feet.
+
+“What are you doing with your shoes on, William?” she asked.
+
+Billy glanced nonchalantly at her.
+
+“Don't you think, Aunt Minerva,” he made answer, “I's gittin' too big
+to go 'thout any shoes? I's mos' ready to put on long pants, an' how'd
+I look, I'd jest like to know, goin' roun' barefooted an' got on long
+breeches. I don' believe I'll go barefooted no mo'--I'll jest wear my
+shoes ev'y day.”
+
+“I just believe you won't. Go take them off at once and hurry back to
+your dinner.”
+
+“Lemme jest wait tell I eats,” he begged, hoping to postpone the evil
+hour of exposure.
+
+“No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands.”
+
+Miss Minerva spied the paint the instant he made his second entrance and
+immediately inquired, “How did you get that paint on your feet?”
+
+The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at her with his
+sweet, attractive, winning smile.
+
+“Paint pertec's little boys' feets,” he said, “an' keeps 'em f'om
+gittin' hurted, Aunt Minerva, don't it?”
+
+Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her undivided
+attention.
+
+“You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William; now tell me
+all about it. Are you afraid of me?”
+
+“Yas 'm,” was his prompt response, “an' I don't want to be put to bed
+neither. The Major he wouldn't put little boys to bed day times.”
+
+She blushed and eyed him thoughtfully. She was making slow progress with
+the child, she knew, yet she still felt it her stern duty to be very
+strict with him and, having laid down certain rules to rear him by, she
+wished to adhere to them.
+
+“William,” she said after he had made a full confession, “I won't punish
+you this time for I know that Jimmy led you into it but--”
+
+“Naw'm, Jimmy didn't. Me an' him an' Frances an' Lina's all 'sponsible,
+but I promise you, Aunt Minerva, not to clam' no mo' ladders.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+                     PRETENDING REALITY
+
+
+The chain-gang had been working in the street not far from Miss
+Minerva's house, and Lina, Frances, Billy and Jimmy had hung on her
+front fence for an hour, watching them with eager interest. The negroes
+were chained together in pairs, and guarded by two, big, burly white
+men.
+
+“Let's us play chain-gang,” suggested Jimmy.
+
+“Where we goin' to git a chain?” queried Billy; “'t won't be no fun
+'thout a lock an' chain.”
+
+“I can get the lock and chain off 'm Sarah Jane's cabin.”
+
+“Yo' mama don't 'low you to go to her cabin,” said Billy.
+
+“My mama don't care if I just borra a lock and chain; so I 'm going to
+get it.”
+
+“I'm going to be the perlice of the gang,” said Frances.
+
+“Perlice nothing. You all time talking 'bout you going to be the
+perlice,” scoffed Jimmy. “I'm going to be the perlice myself.”
+
+“No, you are not,” interposed Lina, firmly. “Billy and I are the tallest
+and we are going to be the guards, and you and Frances must be the
+prisoners.”
+
+“Well, I ain't going to play 'thout I can be the boss of the niggers.
+It's Sarah Jane's chain and she's my mama's cook, and I'm going to be
+what I please.”
+
+“I'll tell you what do,” was Billy's suggestion, “we'll take it turn
+about; me an' Lina'll firs' be the perlice an' y' all be the chain-gang,
+an' then we'll be the niggers an' y' all be the bosses.”
+
+This arrangement was satisfactory, so the younger boy climbed the fence
+and soon returned with a short chain and padlock.
+
+Billy chained Jimmy and Frances together by two round, fat ankles and
+put the key to the lock in his pocket.
+
+“We must decide what crimes they have committed,” said Lina.
+
+“Frances done got 'rested fer shootin' craps an' Jimmy done got 'rested
+fer 'sturbin' public worship,” said the other boss.
+
+“Naw, I ain't neither,” objected the male member of the chain-gang, “I
+done cut my woman with a razor 'cause I see her racking down the street
+like a proud coon with another gent, like what Sarah Jane's brother
+telled me he done at the picnic.”
+
+The children played happily together for half an hour, Billy and Lina
+commanding, and the prisoners, entering thoroughly into the spirit
+of the game, according prompt obedience to their bosses. At last the
+captives wearied of their role and clamored for an exchange of parts.
+
+“All right,” agreed Lina. “Get the key, Billy, and we'll be the
+chain-gang.”
+
+Billy put his right hand in his pocket but found no key there; he tried
+the other pocket with the same success; he felt in his blouse, he looked
+in his cap, he jumped up and down, he nearly shook himself to pieces all
+without avail; the key had disappeared as if by magic.
+
+“I berlieve y' all done los' that key,” concluded he.
+
+“Maybe it dropped on the ground,” said Frances.
+
+They searched the yard over, but the key was not to be found.
+
+“Well, if that ain't just like you, Billy,” cried Jimmy, “you all time
+perposing to play chain-gang and you all time lose the key.”
+
+Lina grew indignant.
+
+“You proposed this yourself, Jimmy Garner,” she said; “we never would
+have thought of playing chain-gang but for you.”
+
+“It looks like we can't never do anything at all,” moaned Frances,
+“'thout grown folks 've got to know 'bout it.”
+
+“Yes, and laugh fit to pop theirselfs open,” said her fellow-prisoner.
+“I can't never pass by Owen Gibbs and Len Hamner now 'thout they laugh
+just like idjets and grin just like pole-cats.”
+
+“I ain't never hear tell of a pole-cat grinnin',” corrected Billy, “he
+jes' smell worser 'n what a billy goat do.”
+
+“It is Chessy cats that grin,” explained Lina.
+
+“Look like folks would get 'em a lot of pole-cats stead o' chillens
+always hafto be wearing assfetty bags 'round their nakes, so's they can
+keep off whopping-cough,” said Frances.
+
+“You can't wear a pole-cat roun' yo' nake,” grinned Billy.
+
+“And Len Hamner all time now asking me,” Jimmy continued, “when I'm
+going to wear Sarah Jane's co'set to Sunday-School. Grown folks 'bout
+the lunatickest things they is. Ain't you going to unlock this chain,
+Billy?” he demanded.
+
+“What I got to unlock it with?” asked Billy.
+
+As Jimmy's father was taking the crestfallen chaingang to the blacksmith
+shop to have their fetters removed, they had to pass by the livery
+stable; and Sam Lamb, bent double with intoxicating mirth at their
+predicament, yelled:
+
+“Lordee! Lordee! Y' all sho' is de outlandishest kids 'twixt de Bad
+Place an' de moon.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+                   A TRANSACTION IN MUMPS
+
+
+“Don't you come near me,” screamed Billy, sauntering slowly and
+deliberately toward the dividing fence; “keep way f'om me; they's
+ketchin'.”
+
+Jimmy was sitting on his front steps and the proverbial red flag could
+not have excited a bull to quicker action. He hopped down the steps and
+ran across his own yard toward Billy as fast as his short, fat legs,
+could carry him.
+
+“Git 'way f'om me; you'll ketch 'em if you teches me,” warned Billy;
+“an' you too little to have 'em,” and he waved an authoritative hand at
+the other child. But Jimmy's curiosity was aroused to the highest
+pitch. He promptly jumped the fence and gazed at his chum with critical
+admiration.
+
+“What's the matter,” he inquired, “you got the toothache?”
+
+“Toothache!” was the scornful echo, “well, I reckon not. Git back; don't
+you tech 'em; you ain't ol' 'nough to have 'em.”
+
+Billy's head was swathed in a huge, white cloth; his usually lean little
+cheeks were puffed out till he resembled a young hippopotamus, and his
+pretty grey eyes were almost invisible.
+
+“You better git 'way f'om me an' don't tech 'em, like I tells you,” he
+reiterated. “Aunt Minerva say you ain't never had 'em an' she say fer me
+to make you keep 'way f'om me 'cause you ain't a ol' chile like what I
+is.”
+
+“You ain't but six,” retorted angry Jimmy, “and I'll be six next month;
+you all time trying to 'suade little boys to think you're 'bout a
+million years old. What's the matter with you, anyhow? You 'bout the
+funniest looking kid they is.”
+
+Billy theatrically touched a distended cheek. “These here is mumps,”
+ he said impressively; “an' when you got 'em you can make grown folks do
+perzactly what you want 'em to. Aunt Minerva's in the kitchen right now
+makin' me a 'lasses custard if I'll be good an' stay right in the house
+an' don't come out here in the yard an' don't give you the mumps. Course
+I can't tech that custard now 'cause I done come out here an' it ain't
+honer'ble; but she's makin' it jes' the same. You better git 'way f'om
+me an' not tech 'em; you too little to have 'em.”
+
+“Are they easy to ketch?” asked the other little boy eagerly; “lemme
+jest tech 'em one time, Billy.”
+
+“Git 'way, I tell you,” warned the latter with a superior air. To
+increase Jimmy's envy he continued: “Grown folks tries to see how nice
+they can be to chillens what's got the mumps. Aunt Minerva ain't been
+impedent to me to-day; she lemme do jest 'bout like I please; it sho'
+is one time you can make grown folks step lively.” He looked at Jimmy
+meditatively, “It sho' is a plumb pity you ain't a ol' chile like what I
+is an' can't have the mumps. Yo' ma 'd be skeered to spank you, skeered
+she 'd injuh yo' mumps. Don't you come any closter to me,” he again
+warned, “you too little to have 'em.”
+
+“I'll give you five peewees if you'll lemme tech 'em so 's I can get
+'em,” pleaded the younger boy.
+
+Billy hesitated. “You mighty little--” he began.
+
+“And my stoney,” said the other child eagerly.
+
+“If you was a ol' little boy,” said Billy, “it wouldn't make no
+diffunce; I don't want to make yo' ma mad an' Aunt Minerva say for me to
+keep 'way f'om you anyhow, though I didn't make her no promises.”
+
+Jimmy grew angry.
+
+“You're the stingiest Peter they is, William Hill,” he cried; “won't let
+nobody tech your old mumps. My cousin in Memphis's got the measles; you
+just wait till I get 'em.”
+
+Billy eyed him critically.
+
+“If you was ol'--” he was beginning.
+
+Jimmy thought he saw signs of his yielding.
+
+“And I'll give you my china egg, too,” he quickly proposed.
+
+“Well, jest one tech,” agreed Billy; “an' I ain't a-goin' to be
+'sponsible neither,” and he poked out a swollen jaw for Jimmy to touch.
+
+Ikey Rosenstein at this moment was spied by the two little boys as he
+was Walking jauntily by the gate.
+
+“You better keep 'way f'om here, Goose-Grease,” Jimmy yelled at him;
+“you better get on the other side the street. Billy here's got the mumps
+an' he lemme tech 'em so's I can get 'em, so's my papa and mama'll lemme
+do just perzactly like I want to; but you're a Jew and Jews ain't got no
+business to have the mumps, so you better get 'way. I paid Billy 'bout
+a million dollars' worth to lemme tech his mumps,” he said proudly. “Get
+'way; you can't have em.”
+
+Ikey had promptly stopped at the gate.
+
+“What'll you take, Billy, to lemme get 'em?” he asked, his commercial
+spirit at once aroused.
+
+“What'll you gimme?” asked he of the salable commodity, with an eye to a
+bargain.
+
+Ikey pulled out a piece of twine and a blue glass bead from his
+pocket and offered them to the child with the mumps. These received a
+contemptuous rejection.
+
+“You can do perzactly like you please when you got the mumps,”
+ insinuated Jimmy, who had seemingly allied himself with Billy as a
+partner in business; “grown folks bound to do what little boys want 'em
+to when you got the mumps.”
+
+Ikey increased his bid by the stub of a lead pencil, but it was not
+until he had parted with his most cherished pocket possessions that he
+was at last allowed to place a gentle finger on the protuberant cheek.
+
+Two little girls with their baby-buggies were seen approaching.
+
+“G' 'way from here, Frances, you and Lina,” howled Jimmy. “Don't you
+come in here; me and Billy's got the mumps and you-all 'r' little girls
+and ought n' to have 'em. Don't you come near us; they 're ketching.”
+
+The two little girls immediately opened the gate, crossed the yard, mid
+stood in front of Billy. They inspected him with admiration; he bore
+their critical survey with affected unconcern and indifference, as
+befitted one who had attained such prominence.
+
+“Don't tech 'em,” he commanded, waving them off as he leaned gracefully
+against the fence.
+
+“I teched 'em,” boasted the younger boy. “What'll you all give us if we
+Il let you put your finger on 'em?”
+
+“I ain't a-goin' to charge little girls nothin',” said the gallant
+Billy, as he proffered his swollen jowl to each in turn.
+
+A little darkey riding a big black horse was galloping by; Jimmy hailed
+and halted him.
+
+“You better go fast,” he shrieked. “Me and Billy and Frances and Lina's
+got the mumps and you ain't got no business to have 'em 'cause you're
+a nigger, and you better take your horse to the lib'ry stable 'cause he
+might ketch 'em too.”
+
+The negro boy dismounted and hitched his horse to the fence. “I gotter
+little tarrapim--” he began insinuatingly.
+
+And thus it came to pass that there was an epidemic of mumps in the
+little town of Covington, and William Green Hill grew rich in marbles,
+in tops, in strings, in toads, in chewing gum, and in many other things
+which comprise the pocket treasures of little boys.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                   THE INFANT MIND SHOOTS
+
+
+Miss Minerva had bought a book for Billy entitled “Stories of Great
+and Good Men,” which she frequently read to him for his education and
+improvement. These stories related the principal events in the lives of
+the heroes but never mentioned any names, always asking at the end, “Can
+you tell me who this man was?”
+
+Her nephew heard the stories so often that he had some expression or
+incident by which he could identify each, without paying much attention
+while she was reading.
+
+He and his aunt had just settled themselves on the porch for a reading.
+
+Jimmy was on his own porch cutting up funny capers, and making faces for
+the other child's amusement.
+
+“Lemme go over to Jimmy's, Aunt Minerva,” pleaded her nephew, “an' you
+can read to me to-night. I 'd a heap ruther not hear you read right now.
+It'll make my belly ache.”
+
+Miss Minerva looked at him severely.
+
+“William,” she enjoined, “don't you want to be a smart man when you grow
+up?”
+
+“Yes 'm,” he replied, without much enthusiasm. “Well, jes' lemme ask
+Jimmy to come over here an' set on the other sider you whils' you read.
+He ain't never hear 'bout them tales, an' I s'pec' he'd like to come.”
+
+“Very well,” replied his flattered and gratified relative, “call him
+over.”
+
+Billy went to the fence, where he signaled Jimmy to meet him.
+
+“Aunt Minerva say you come over an' listen to her read some er the
+pretties' tales you ever hear,” he said, as if conferring a great favor.
+
+“Naw, sirree-bob!” was the impolite response across the fence, “them
+'bout the measliest tales they is. I'll come if she'll read my Uncle
+Remus book.”
+
+“Please come on,” begged Billy, dropping the patronizing manner that he
+had assumed, in hope of inducing his chum to share his martyrdom. “You
+know Aunt Minerva'd die in her tracks 'fore she'd read Uncle Remus.
+You'll like these-here tales 'nother sight better anyway. I'll give you
+my stoney if you'll come.”
+
+“Naw; you ain't going to get me in no such box as that. If she'd just
+read seven or eight hours I wouldn't mind; but she'll get you where she
+wants you and read 'bout a million hours. I know Miss Minerva.”
+
+Billy's aunt was growing impatient.
+
+“Come, William,” she called. “I am waiting for you.”
+
+Jimmy went back to his own porch and the other boy joined his kinswoman.
+
+“Why wouldn't Jimmy come?” she asked.
+
+“He--he ain't feeling very well,” was the considerate rejoinder.
+
+“Once there was a little boy who was born in Virginia--” began Miss
+Minerva.
+
+“Born in a manger,” repeated the inattentive little boy to himself, “I
+knows who that was.” So, this important question settled in his mind, he
+gave himself up to the full enjoyment of his chum and to the giving and
+receiving secret signals, the pleasure of which was decidedly enhanced
+by the fear of imminent detection.
+
+“Father, I can not tell a lie, I did it with my little hatchet,--” read
+the thin, monotonous voice at his elbow.
+
+Billy laughed aloud--at that minute Jimmy was standing on his head
+waving two chubby feet in the air.
+
+“William,” said his aunt reprovingly, peering at him over her
+spectacles, “I don't see anything to laugh at,”--and she did not, but
+then she was in ignorance of the little conspiracy.
+
+“He was a good and dutiful son and he studied his lessons so well that
+when he was only seventeen years old he was employed to survey vast
+tracts of land in Virginia--”
+
+Miss Minerva emphasized every word, hoping thus to impress her nephew.
+But he was so busy, keeping one eye on her and one on the little boy on
+the other porch, that he did not have time to use his ears at all and so
+did not hear one word.
+
+“Leaving his camp fires burning to deceive the enemy, he stole around by
+a circuitous route, fell upon the British and captured--”
+
+Billy held up his hands to catch a ball which Jimmy made believe to
+throw.
+
+Miss Minerva still read on, unconscious of her nephew's inattention:
+
+“The suffering at Valley Forge had been intense during the winter--”
+
+Billy made a pretense behind his aunt's upright back of throwing a ball
+while the other child held up two fat little hands to receive it. Again
+he laughed aloud as Jimmy spat on his hands and ground the imaginary
+ball into his hip.
+
+She looked at him sternly over her glasses:
+
+“What makes you so silly?” she inquired, and without waiting for a reply
+went on with her reading; she was nearing the close now and she read
+carefully and deliberately.
+
+“And he was chosen the first president of the United States.”
+
+Billy put his hands to his ears and wriggled his fingers at Jimmy, who
+promptly returned the compliment.
+
+“He had no children of his own, so he is called the Father of his
+Country.”
+
+Miss Minerva closed the book, turned to the little boy at her side, and
+asked:
+
+“Who was this great and good man, William?”
+
+“Jesus,” was his ready answer, in an appropriately solemn little voice.
+
+“Why, William Green Hill!” she exclaimed in disgust. “What are you
+thinking of? I don't believe you heard one word that I read.”
+
+Billy was puzzled; he was sure she had said “Born in a manger.” “I
+didn't hear her say nothin' 'bout bulrushes,” he thought, “so 'tain't
+Moses; she didn't say 'log cabin,' so 'tain't Ab'aham Lincoln; she
+didn't say 'Thirty cents look down upon you,' so 'tain't Napolyon. I
+sho' wish I'd paid 'tention.”
+
+“Jesus!” his aunt was saying, “born in Virginia and first president of
+the United States!”
+
+“George Washin'ton, I aimed to say,” triumphantly screamed the little
+boy, who had received his cue.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER, XXIV
+
+                    A FLAW IN THE TITLE
+
+
+“Come on over,” invited Jimmy.
+
+“All right; I believe I will,” responded Billy, running to the fence.
+His aunt's peremptory voice arrested his footsteps.
+
+“William, come here!” she called from the porch.
+
+He reluctantly retraced his steps.
+
+“I am going back to the kitchen to bake a cake and I want you to promise
+me not to leave the yard.”
+
+“Lemme jes' go over to Jimmy's a little while,” he begged.
+
+“No; you and Jimmy can not be trusted together; you are sure to get into
+mischief, and his mother and I have decided to keep the fence between
+you for a while. Now, promise me that you will stay right in my yard.”
+
+Billy sullenly gave her the promise and she went back to her baking.
+
+“That's always the way now,” he said, meeting his little neighbor at the
+fence, “ever sence Aunt Minerva got onto this-here promisin' business,
+I don' have no freedom 't all. It's 'William, promise me this,' an' it's
+'William, don't ferget yo' promise now,' tell I's jes' plumb sick
+'n tired of it. She know I ain't goin' back on my word an' she jest
+nachelly gits the 'vantage of me; she 'bout the hardest 'oman to manage
+I ever seen sence I's born.”
+
+“I can nearly all time make my mama do anything 'most if I jus' keep on
+trying and keep on a-begging,” bragged the other boy; “I just say
+'May I, mama?' and she'll all time say, 'No, go 'way from me and lemme
+'lone,' and I just keep on, 'May I, mama? May I, mama? May I, mama? 'and
+toreckly she'll say, 'Yes, go on and lemme read in peace.'”
+
+“Aunt Minerva won't give in much,” said Billy. “When she say 'No,
+William,' 'tain't no use 'tall to beg her; you jest wastin' yo' breath.
+When she put her foot down it got to go just like she say; she sho' do
+like to have her own way better 'n any 'oman I ever see.”
+
+“She 'bout the mannishest woman they is,” agreed Jimmy. “She got you
+under her thumb, Billy. I don' see what womans 're made fo' if you can't
+beg 'em into things. I wouldn't let no old spunky Miss Minerva get the
+best of me that 'way. Come on, anyhow.”
+
+“Naw, I can't come,” was the gloomy reply; “if she'd jest tol' me not
+to, I coulder went but she made me promise, an' I ain't never goin' back
+on my word. You come over to see me.”
+
+“I can't,” came the answer across the fence; “I'm earning me a baseball
+mask. I done already earnt me a mitt. My mama don't never make me
+promise her nothing, she just pays me to be good. That's huccome I'm
+'bout to get 'ligion and go to the mourner's bench. She's gone up town
+now and if I don't go outside the yard while she's gone, she's going
+to gimme a baseball mask. You got a ball what you bringed from the
+plantation, and I'll have a bat and mitt and mask and we can play ball
+some. Come on over just a little while; you ain't earning you nothing
+like what I'm doing.”
+
+“Naw; I promis' her not to an' I ain't ever goin' to break my promise.”
+
+“Well, then, Mr. Promiser,” said Jimmy, “go get your ball and we'll
+th'ow 'cross the fence. I can't find mine.”
+
+Billy kept his few toys and playthings in a closet, which was full of
+old plunder. As he reached for his ball something fell at his feet from
+a shelf above. He picked it up, and ran excitedly into the yard.
+
+“Look, Jimmy,” he yelled, “here's a baseball mask I found in the
+closet.”
+
+Jimmy, forgetful of the fact that he was to be paid for staying at home,
+immediately rolled over the fence and ran eagerly toward his friend.
+They examined the article in question with great care.
+
+“It looks perzactly like a mask,” announced Jimmy after a thorough
+inspection, “and yet it don't.” He tried it on. “It don't seem to fit
+your face right,” he said.
+
+Sarah Jane was bearing down upon them. “Come back home dis minute,
+Jimmy!” she shrieked, “want to ketch some mo' contagwous 'seases, don't
+yuh? What dat y' all got now?” As she drew nearer a smile of recognition
+and appreciation overspread her big good-natured face. Then she burst
+into a loud, derisive laugh. “What y' all gwine to do wid Miss Minerva's
+old bustle?” she enquired. “Y' all sho' am de contaritest chillens in
+dis here copperation.”
+
+“Bustle?” echoed Billy, “What's a bustle?”
+
+“Dat-ar's a bustle--dat's what's a bustle. Ladies useto wear 'em 'cause
+dey so stylish to make they dresses stick out in the back. Come on home,
+Jimmy, 'fore yuh ketch de yaller jandis er de epizootics; yo' ma tol'
+yuh to stay right at home.”
+
+“Well, I'm coming, ain't I?” scowled the little boy. “Mama needn't to
+know nothing 'thout you tell.”
+
+“Would you take yo' mama's present now, Jimmy?” asked Billy; “you ain't
+earnt it.”
+
+“Wouldn't you?” asked Jimmy, doubtfully.
+
+“Naw, I would n't, not 'thout I tol' her.”
+
+“Well, I'll tell her I just comed over a minute to see 'bout Miss
+Minerva's bustle,” he agreed as he again tumbled over the fence.
+
+A little negro boy, followed by a tiny, white dog, was passing by Miss
+Minerva's gate.
+
+Billy promptly flew to the gate and hailed him. Jimmy, looking around
+to see that Sarah Jane had gone back to the kitchen, as promptly rolled
+over the fence and joined him.
+
+“Lemme see yo' dog,” said the former.
+
+“Ain't he cute?” said the latter.
+
+The little darkey picked up the dog and passed it across the gate.
+
+“I wish he was mine,” said the smaller child, as he took the soft,
+fluffy little ball in his arms; “what'll you take for him?”
+
+The negro boy had never seen the dog before, but he immediately accepted
+the ownership thrust upon him and answered without hesitation, “I'll
+take a dollar for her.”
+
+“I ain't got but a nickel. Billy, ain't you got 'nough money to put with
+my nickel to make a dollar?”
+
+“Naw; I ain't got a red cent.”
+
+“I'll tell you what we'll do,” suggested Jimmy; “we'll trade you a
+baseball mask for him. My mama's going to give me a new mask 'cause
+I all time stay at home; so we'll trade you our old one. Go get it,
+Billy.”
+
+Thus commanded Billy ran and picked up the bustle where it lay neglected
+on the grass and handed it to the quasi-owner of the puppy.
+
+The deal was promptly closed and a little black negro went grinning down
+the street with Miss Minerva's old bustle tied across his face, leaving
+behind him a curly-haired dog.
+
+“Ain't he sweet?” said Jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close to his
+breast, “we got to name him, Billy.”
+
+“Le's name her Peruny Pearline,” was the suggestion of the other joint
+owner.
+
+“He ain't going to be name' nothing at all like that,” declared Jimmy;
+“you all time got to name our dogs the scalawaggest name they is. He's
+going to be name' 'Sam Lamb' 'cause he's my partner.”
+
+“She's a girl dog,” argued Billy, “an' she can't be name' no man's name.
+If she could I'd call her Major.”
+
+“I don't care what sort o' dog he is, girl or boy, he's going to be
+name' 'Sam Lamb'!” and he fondly stroked the little animal's soft head.
+
+“Here, Peruny! Here, Peruny!” and Billy tried to snatch her away.
+
+The boys heard a whistle; the dog heard it, too. Springing from the
+little boy's arms Sam Lamb Peruny Pearline ran under the gate and flew
+to meet her master, who was looking for her.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+                  EDUCATION AND ITS PERILS
+
+
+It was a warm day in early August and the four children were sitting
+contentedly in the swing. They met almost every afternoon now, but were
+generally kept under strict surveillance by Miss Minerva.
+
+“'Twon't be long 'fore we'll all hafto go to school,” remarked Frances,
+“and I'll be mighty sorry; I wish we didn't ever hafto go to any old
+school.”
+
+“I wisht we knowed how to read an' write when we's born,” said Billy.
+“If I was God I'd make all my babies so's they is already eddicated when
+they gits born. Reckon if we'd pray evy night an' ask God, He'd learn
+them babies what He's makin' on now how to read an' write?”
+
+“I don' care nothing at all 'bout them babies,” put in Jimmy, “'tain't
+going to do us no good if all the new babies what Doctor Sanford finds
+can read and write; it'd jes' make 'em the sassiest things ever was.
+'Sides, I got plenty things to ask God for 'thout fooling long other
+folks' brats, and I ain't going to meddle with God's business nohow.”
+
+“Did you all hear what Miss Larrimore, who teaches the little children
+at school, said about us?” asked Lina importantly.
+
+“Naw,” they chorused, “what was it?”
+
+“She told the Super'ntendent,” was the reply of Lina, pleased with
+herself and with that big word, “that she would have to have more money
+next year, for she heard that Lina Hamilton, Frances Black, William
+Hill, and Jimmy Garner were all coming to school, and she said we were
+the most notorious bad children in town.”
+
+“She is the spitefullest woman they is,” Jimmy's black eyes snapped;
+“she 'bout the meddlesomest teacher in that school.”
+
+“Who telled you 'bout it, Lina?” questioned the other little girl.
+
+“The Super'ntendent told his wife and you know how some ladies
+are,--they just can't keep a secret. Now it is just like burying it
+to tell mother anything; she never tells anybody but father, and
+grandmother, and grandfather, and Uncle Ed, and Brother Johnson, and
+she makes them promise never to breathe it to a living soul. But the
+Super'ntendent's wife is different; she tells ever'thing she hears, and
+now everybody knows what that teacher said about us.”
+
+“Everybody says she is the crankiest teacher they is,” cried Jimmy, “she
+won't let you bring nothing to school 'cepting your books; you can't
+even take your slingshot, nor your air-gun, nor--”
+
+“Nor your dolls,” chimed in Frances, “and she won't let you bat your
+eye, nor say a word, nor cross your legs, nor blow your nose.”
+
+“What do she think we's goin' to her of school fer if we can't have
+fun?” asked Billy. “Tabernicle sho' had fun when he went to school. He
+put a pin in the teacher's chair an' she set down on it plumb up to the
+head, an' he tie the strings together what two nigger gals had they hair
+wropped with, an' he squoze up a little boy's legs in front of him with
+a rooster foot tell he squalled out loud, an' he th'owed spitballs, an'
+he make him some watermelon teeth, an' he paint a chicken light red an'
+tuck it to the teacher fer a dodo, an' he put cotton in his pants 'fore
+he got licked, an' he drawed the teacher on a slate. That's what you
+go to school fer is to have fun, an' I sho' is goin' to have fun when I
+goes, an' I ain't goin' to take no bulldozin' offer her, neither.”
+
+“I bet we can squelch her,” cried Frances, vindictively.
+
+“Yes, we'll show her a thing or two”--for once Jimmy agreed with her,
+“she 'bout the butt-in-est old woman they is, and she's going to find
+out we 'bout the squelchingest kids ever she tackle.”
+
+“Alfred Gage went to school to her last year,” said Frances, “and he can
+read and write.”
+
+“Yes,” joined in Jimmy, “and he 'bout the proudest boy they is; all time
+got to write his name all over everything.”
+
+“You 'member 'bout last Communion Sunday,” went on the little girl,
+“when they hand roun' the little envellups and telled all the folks
+what was willing to give five dollars more on the pastor's sal'y just to
+write his name; so Alfred he so frisky 'cause he know how to write; so
+he tooken one of the little envellups and wroten 'Alfred Gage' on it; so
+when his papa find out 'bout it he say that kid got to work and pay that
+five dollars hi'self, 'cause he done sign his name to it.”
+
+“And if he ain't 'bout the sickest kid they is,” declared Jimmy; “I'll
+betcher he won't get fresh no more soon. He telled me the other day he
+ain't had a drink of soda water this summer, 'cause every nickel he
+gets got to go to Mr. Pastor's sal'ry; he says he plumb tired supporting
+Brother Johnson and all his family; and, he say, every time he go up
+town he sees Johnny Johnson a-setting on a stool in Baltzer's drug store
+just a-swigging milk-shakes; he says he going to knock him off some day
+'cause it's his nickels that kid's a-spending.”
+
+There was a short silence, broken by Billy, who remarked, apropos of
+nothing:
+
+“I sho' is glad I don't hafter be a 'oman when I puts on long pants,
+mens is heap mo' account.”
+
+“I wouldn't be a woman for nothing at all,” Jimmy fully agreed with him;
+“they have the pokiest time they is.”
+
+“I'm glad I am going to be a young lady when I grow up,” Lina declared,
+“I wouldn't be a gentleman for anything. I'm going to wear pretty
+clothes and be beautiful and be a belle like mother was, and have lots
+of lovers kneel at my feet on one knee and play the guitar with the
+other.”
+
+“How they goin' to play the guitar with they other knee?” asked the
+practical Billy.
+
+“And sing 'Call Me Thine Own,'” she continued, ignoring his
+interruption. “Father got on his knees to mother thirty-seven-and-a-half
+times before she'd say, 'I will.”'
+
+“Look like he'd 'a' wore his breeches out,” said Billy.
+
+“I don't want to be a lady,” declared Frances; “they can't ever ride
+straddle nor climb a tree, and they got to squinch up their waists and
+toes. I wish I could kiss my elbow right now and turn to a boy.”
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+                  UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
+
+
+“They's going to be a big nigger 'scursion to Memphis at 'leven
+o'clock,” said Jimmy as he met the other little boy at the dividing
+fence; “Sam Lamb's going and 'most all the niggers they is. Sarah Jane
+'lowed she's going, but she ain't got nobody to 'tend to Bennie Dick.
+Wouldn't you like to go, Billy?”
+
+“You can't go 'thout you's a nigger,” was the reply; “Sam Lamb say
+they ain't no white folks 'lowed on this train 'cepin' the engineer an'
+conductor.”
+
+“Sam Lamb'd take care of us if we could go,” continued Jimmy. “Let's
+slip off and go down to the depot and see the niggers get on. There'll
+be 'bout a million.”
+
+Billy's eyes sparkled with appreciation.
+
+“I sho' wish I could,” he said; “but Aunt Minerva'd make me stay in bed
+a whole week if I want near the railroad.”
+
+“My mama 'd gimme 'bout a million licks, too, if I projeckted with a
+nigger 'scursion she 'bout the spankingest woman they is. My papa put
+some burnt cork on his face in the Knights er Pythi's minstrels and I
+know where we can get some to make us black; you go get Miss Minerva's
+ink bottle too, that'll help some, and get some matches, and I'll go get
+the cork and we can go to Sarah Jane's house and make usselfs black.”
+
+“I ain't never promise not to black up and go down to the depot,” said
+Billy waveringly. “I promise not to never be no mo' Injun--I--”
+
+“Well, run then,” Jimmy interrupted impatiently. “We'll just slip down
+to the railroad and take a look at the niggers. You don't hafto get on
+the train just 'cause you down to the depot.”
+
+So Miss Minerva's nephew, after tiptoeing into the house for her ink
+bottle and filling his pockets with contraband matches, met his chum
+at the cabin. There, under the critical survey of Bennie Dick from his
+customary place on the floor, they darkened their faces, heads,
+hands, feet, and legs; then, pulling their caps over their eyes, these
+energetic little boys stole out of the back gate and fairly flew down an
+alley to the station. No one noticed them in that hot, perspiring, black
+crowd. A lively band was playing and the mob of good-humored, happy
+negroes, dressed in their Sunday best, laughing and joking, pushing and
+elbowing, made their way to the excursion train standing on the track.
+
+The two excited children got directly behind a broad, pompous negro and
+slipped on the car just after him. Fortunately they found a seat in the
+rear of the coach and there they sat unobserved, still and quiet, except
+for an occasional delighted giggle, till the bell clanged and the train
+started off. “We'll see Sam Lamb toreckly,” whispered Jimmy, “and he'll
+take care of us.”
+
+The train was made up of seven coaches, which had been taking on negroes
+at every station up the road as far as Paducah, and it happened that the
+two little boys did not know a soul in their car.
+
+But when they were nearing Woodstock, a little station not far from
+Memphis, Sam Lamb, making a tour of the cars, came into their coach and
+was promptly hailed by the children. When he recognized them, he burst
+into such a roar of laughter that it caused all the other passengers to
+turn around and look in their direction.
+
+“What y' all gwine to do nex' I jes' wonder,” he exclaimed. “Yo' ekals
+ain't made dis side o' 'ternity. Lordee, Lordee,” he gazed at
+them admiringly, “you sho' is genoowine corn-fed, sterlin' silver,
+all-woolan'-a-yard-wide, pure-leaf, Green-River Lollapaloosas. Does yo'
+folks know 'bout yer? Lordee! What I axin' sech a fool question fer?
+'Course dey don't. Come on, I gwine to take y' all off 'n dese cars
+right here at dis Woodstock, an' we kin ketch de 'commodation back
+home.”
+
+“But Sam,” protested Billy, “We don't want to go back home. We wants to
+go to Memphis.”
+
+“Hit don't matter what y' all wants,” was the negro's reply, “y' all
+gotta git right off. Dis-here 'scursion train don't leave Memphis twell
+twelve o'clock tonight an' yuh see how slow she am runnin', and ev'y
+no 'count nigger on her'll be full o' red eye. An' yo' folks is plumb
+'stracted 'bout yer dis minute, I 'low. Come on. She am gittin' ready to
+stop.”
+
+He grabbed the blackened hand of each, pushing Jimmy and pulling Billy,
+and towed the reluctant little boys through the coach.
+
+“Yuh sho' is sp'iled my fun,” he growled as he hustled them across the
+platform to the waitingroom. “Dis-here's de fus' 'scursion I been on
+widout Sukey a-taggin' long in five year an' I aimed fo' to roll 'em
+high; an' now, 'case o' ketchin' up wid y' all, I gotta go right back
+home. Now y' all set jes' as straight as yer kin set on dis here bench,”
+ he admonished, “whilst I send a telegraph to Marse Jeems Garner. An'
+don' yuh try to 'lope out on de flatform neider. Set whar I kin keep my
+eye skinned on yuh, yuh little slipp'ry-ellum eels. Den I gwine to come
+back an' wash yer, so y' all look like 'spectable white folks.”
+
+Miss Minerva came out of her front door looking for Billy at the same
+time that Mrs. Garner appeared on her porch in search of Jimmy.
+
+“William! You William!” called one woman.
+
+“Jimmee-ee! O Jimmee-ee-ee!” called the other.
+
+“Have you seen my nephew?” asked the one.
+
+“No. Have you seen anything of Jimmy?” was the reply of the other.
+
+“They were talking together at the fence about an hour ago,” said
+Billy's aunt. “Possibly they are down at the livery stable with Sam
+Lamb; I'll phone and find out.”
+
+“And I'll ring up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Hamilton. They may have gone to
+see Lina or Frances.”
+
+In a short time both women appeared on their porches again:
+
+“They have not been to the stable this morning,” said Miss Minerva
+uneasily, “and Sam went to Memphis on the excursion train.”
+
+“And they are not with Lina or Frances,”--Mrs. Garner's face wore an
+anxious look, “I declare I never saw two such children. Still, I don't
+think we need worry as it is nearly dinner time, and they never miss
+their meals, you know.”
+
+But the noon hour came and with it no hungry little boys. Then, indeed,
+did the relatives of the children grow uneasy. The two telephones were
+kept busy, and Mr. Garner, with several other men on horseback, scoured
+the village. Not a soul had seen either child.
+
+At three o'clock Miss Minerva, worn with anxiety and on the verge of a
+collapse, dropped into a chair on her veranda, her faithful Major by her
+side. He had come to offer help and sympathy as soon as he heard of her
+distress, and, finding her in such a softened, dependent, and receptive
+mood, the Major had remained to try to cheer her up.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Garner were also on the porch, discussing what further
+steps they could take.
+
+“It is all the fault of that William of yours,” snapped one little boy's
+mother to the other little boy's aunt: “Jimmy is the best child in the
+world when he is by himself, but he is easily led into mischief.”
+
+Miss Minerva's face blazed with indignation.
+
+“William's fault indeed!” she answered back. “There never was a sweeter
+child than William;” for the lonely woman knew the truth at last. At
+the thought that her little nephew might be hurt, a long forgotten
+tenderness stirred her bosom and she realized for the first time how the
+child had grown into her life.
+
+The telegram came.
+
+“They are all right,” shouted Mr. Garner joyously, as he quickly opened
+and read the yellow missive, “they went on the excursion and Sam Lamb is
+bringing them home on the accommodation.”
+
+
+As the Major, short, plump, rubicund, jolly, and Miss Minerva, tall,
+sallow, angular, solemn, were walking to the station to meet the train
+that was bringing home the runaways, the elderly lover knew himself to
+be at last master of the situation.
+
+“The trouble with Billy--” he began, adjusting his steps to Miss
+Minerva's mincing walk.
+
+“William,” she corrected, faintly.
+
+“The trouble with Billy,” repeated her suitor firmly, “is this: you have
+tried to make a girl out of a healthy, high-spirited boy; you haven't
+given him the toys and playthings a boy should have; you have not even
+given the child common love and affection.” He was letting himself go,
+for he knew that she needed the lecture, and, wonderful to tell, she was
+listening meekly. “You have steeled your heart,” he went on, “against
+Billy and against me. You have about as much idea how to manage a boy
+as a--as a--” he hesitated for a suitable comparison: he wanted to say
+“goat,” but gallantry forbade; “as any other old maid,” he blurted out,
+realizing as he did so that a woman had rather be called a goat than an
+old maid any time.
+
+The color mounted to Miss Minerva's face.
+
+“I don't have to be an old maid,” she snapped spunkily.
+
+“No; and you are not going to be one any longer,” he answered with
+decision. “I tell you what, Miss Minerva, we are going to make a fine,
+manly boy out of that nephew of yours.”
+
+“We?” she echoed faintly.
+
+“Yes, we! I said we, didn't I?” replied the Major ostentatiously. “The
+child shall have a pony to ride and every thing else that a boy ought to
+have. He is full of natural animal spirits and has to find some outlet
+for them; that is the reason he is always in mischief. Now, I think I
+understand children.” He drew himself up proudly. “We shall be married
+to-morrow,” he announced, “that I may assume at once my part of the
+responsibility of Billy's rearing.”
+
+Miss Minerva looked at him in fluttering consternation.
+
+“Oh, no, not to-morrow,” she protested; “possibly next year some time.”
+
+“To-morrow,” reiterated the Major, his white moustache bristling with
+determination. Having at last asserted himself, he was enjoying the
+situation immensely and was not going to give way one inch.
+
+“We will be married to-morrow and--”
+
+“Next month,” she suggested timidly.
+
+“To-morrow, I tell you!”
+
+“Next week,” she answered.
+
+“To-morrow! To-morrow! To-morrow!” cried the Major, happy as a
+schoolboy.
+
+“Next Sunday night after church,” pleaded Miss Minerva.
+
+“No, not next Sunday or Monday or Tuesday. We will be married
+to-morrow,” declared the dictatorial Confederate veteran.
+
+Billy's aunt succumbed.
+
+“Oh, Joseph,” she said with almost a simper, “you are so masterful.”
+
+“How would you like me for an uncle?” Miss Minerva's affianced asked
+Billy a few minutes later.
+
+“Fine an' dandy,” was the answer, as the child wriggled himself out of
+his aunt's embrace. The enthusiastic reception accorded him, when he got
+off the train, was almost too much for the little boy. He gazed at the
+pair in embarrassment. He was for the moment disconcerted and overcome;
+in place of the expected scoldings and punishment, he was received with
+caresses and flattering consideration. He could not understand it at
+all.
+
+The Major put a hand on the little boy's shoulder and smiled a kindly
+smile into his big, grey, astonished eyes as the happy lover delightedly
+whispered, “Your aunt Minerva is going to marry me to-morrow, Billy.”
+
+“Pants an' all?” asked William Green Hill.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by
+Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by Frances Boyd Calhoun
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by
+Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Miss Minerva and William Green Hill
+
+Author: Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+Release Date: April 20, 2009 [EBook #5187]
+Last Updated: March 15, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      MISS MINERVA AND WILLIAM GREEN HILL
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Frances Boyd Calhoun
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER, XXIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    A SCANDALIZED VIRGIN
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The bus drove up to the gate and stopped under the electric street-light.
+      Perched on the box by the big, black negro driver sat a little boy whose
+      slender figure was swathed in a huge rain coat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva was on the porch waiting to receive him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mercy on me, child,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;what on earth made you ride up there? Why
+      didn't you get inside?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I jest wanted to ride by Sam Lamb,&rdquo; replied the child as he was lifted
+      down. &ldquo;An' I see a nice fat little man name' Major&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He jes' wouldn' ride inside, Miss Minerva,&rdquo; interrupted the driver,
+      quickly, to pass over the blush that rose to the spinster's thin cheek at
+      mention of the Major. &ldquo;Twan't no use fer ter try ter make him ride nowhars
+      but jes' up by me. He jes' 'fused an' 'fused an' 'sputed an' 'sputed; he
+      jes' tuck ter me f'om de minute he got off 'm de train an' sot eyes on me;
+      he am one easy chile ter git 'quainted wid; so, I jes' h'isted him up by
+      me. Here am his verlise, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, Sam Lamb,&rdquo; said the child as the negro got back on the box and
+      gathered up the reins. &ldquo;I'll see you to-morrer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva imprinted a thin, old-maid kiss on the sweet, childish mouth.
+      &ldquo;I am your Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; she said, as she picked up his satchel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy carelessly drew the back of his hand across his mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Are you wiping my kiss off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw 'm,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;I's jest a&mdash;I's a-rubbin' it in, I reckon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, William,&rdquo; and his aunt led the way through the wide hall into w
+      big bedroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy, ma'am,&rdquo; corrected her nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; firmly repeated Miss Minerva. &ldquo;You may have been called Billy
+      on that plantation where you were allowed to run wild with the negroes,
+      but your name is William Green Hill and I shall insist upon your being
+      called by it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stooped to help him off with his coat, remarking as she did so, &ldquo;What
+      a big overcoat; it is several sizes too large for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Darned if 'tain't,&rdquo; agreed the child promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who taught you such a naughty word?&rdquo; she asked in a horrified voice.
+      &ldquo;Don't you know it is wrong to curse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You call that cussin'?&rdquo; came in scornful tones from the little boy. &ldquo;You
+      don't know cussin' when you see it; you jest oughter hear ole Uncle
+      Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, Aunt Cindy's husban'; he'll show you somer the
+      pretties' cussin' you ever did hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is Aunt Cindy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's the colored 'oman what 'tends to me ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth
+      Lincoln's born, an' Uncle Jup'ter is her husban' an' he sho' is a
+      stingeree on cussin'. Is yo' husban' much of a cusser?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A pale pink dyed Miss Minerva's thin, sallow face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not a married woman,&rdquo; she replied, curtly, &ldquo;and I most assuredly
+      would not permit any oaths to be used on my premises.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter is jest nach'elly boon' to cuss,&mdash;he's
+      got a repertation to keep up,&rdquo; said Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down in a chair in front of his aunt, crossed his legs and smiled
+      confidentially up into her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hell an' damn is jest easy ev'y day words to that nigger. I wish you
+      could hear him cuss on a Sunday jest one time, Aunt Minerva; he'd sho'
+      make you open yo' eyes an' take in yo' sign. But Aunt Cindy don't 'low me
+      an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln to say nothin' 't all only jest 'darn' tell we
+      gits grown mens, an' puts on long pants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wilkes Booth Lincoln?&rdquo; questioned his aunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't you never hear teller him?&rdquo; asked the child. &ldquo;He's ole Aunt
+      Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's boy; an' Peruny Pearline,&rdquo; he continued
+      enthusiastically, &ldquo;she ain't no ord'nary nigger, her hair ain't got nare
+      kink an' she's got the grandes' clo'es. They ain't nothin' snide 'bout
+      her. She got ten chillens an' ev'y single one of 'em's got a diff'unt
+      pappy, she been married so much. They do say she got Injun blood in her,
+      too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva, who had been standing prim, erect, and stiff, fell limply
+      into a convenient rocking chair, and looked closely at this orphaned
+      nephew who had come to live with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw a beautiful, bright, attractive, little face out of which big,
+      saucy, grey eyes shaded by long curling black lashes looked winningly at
+      her; she saw a sweet, childish, red mouth, a mass of short, yellow curls,
+      and a thin but graceful little figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knows the names of aller ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's
+      chillens,&rdquo; he was saying proudly: &ldquo;Admiral Farragut Moses the Prophet
+      Esquire, he's the bigges'; an' Alice Ann Maria Dan Step-an'-Go-Fetch-It,
+      she had to nuss all the res.'; she say fas' as she git th'oo nussin' one
+      an' 'low she goin' to have a breathin' spell here come another one an' she
+      got to nuss it. An' the nex' is Mount Sinai Tabernicle, he name fer the
+      church where of Aunt BlueGum Tempy's Peruny Pearline takes her sackerment;
+      an' the nex' is First Thessalonians; Second Thessalonians, he's dead an'
+      gone to the Bad Place 'cause he skunt a cat,&mdash;I don't mean skin the
+      cat on a actin' role like me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln does,&mdash;he skunt
+      a sho' 'nough cat what was a black cat, what was a ole witch, an' she come
+      back an' ha'nt him an' he growed thinner an' thinner an' weasler an'
+      weasler, tell finely he wan't nothin' 't all but a skel'ton, an' the Bad
+      Man won't 'low nobody 't all to give his parch' tongue no water, an' he
+      got to, ever after amen, be toast on a pitchfork. An' Oleander Magnolia
+      Althea is the nex',&rdquo; he continued, enumerating Peruny Pearline's offspring
+      on his thin, well molded fingers, &ldquo;she got the seven year itch; an'
+      Gettysburg, an' Biddle-&amp;-Brothers-Mercantile-Co.; he name fer the sto'
+      where ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline gits credit so she can pay
+      when she fetches in her cotton in the fall; an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln, him
+      an' me's twins, we was borned the same day only I's borned to my mama an'
+      he's borned to his 'n an' Doctor Jenkins fetched me an' Doctor Shacklefoot
+      fetched him. An' Decimus Ultimus,&rdquo;&mdash;the little boy triumphantly put
+      his right forefinger on his left little one, thus making the tenth, &ldquo;she's
+      the baby an' she's got the colic an' cries loud 'nough to wake up Israel;
+      Wilkes Booth Lincoln say he wish the little devil would die. Peruny
+      Pearline firs' name her 'Doctor Shacklefoot' 'cause he fetches all her
+      chillens, but the doctor he say that ain't no name fer a girl, so he name
+      her Decimus Ultimus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva, sober, proper, dignified, religious old maid unused to
+      children, listened in frozen amazement and paralyzed silence. She decided
+      to put the child to bed at once that she might collect her thoughts, and
+      lay some plans for the rearing of this sadly neglected, little orphaned
+      nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it is bedtime, and I know you must be sleepy after
+      your long ride on the cars. Would you like something to eat before I put
+      you to bed? I saved you some supper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw 'm, I ain't hongry; the Major man what I talk to on the train tuck me
+      in the dinin'-room an' gimme all I could hol'; I jest eat an' eat tell
+      they wan't a wrinkle in me,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;He axed me 'bout you, too. Is
+      he name' Major Minerva?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened a door in considerable confusion, and they entered a small,
+      neat room adjoining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is your own little room, William,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;you see it opens into
+      mine. Have you a nightshirt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw 'm, I don' need no night-shirt. I jest sleeps in my unions and
+      sometimes in my overalls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you may sleep in your union suit to-night,&rdquo; said his scandalized
+      relative, &ldquo;and I'll see what I can do for you to-morrow. Can you undress
+      yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her small nephew wrinkled his nose, disdainfully. &ldquo;Well, I reckon so,&rdquo; he
+      scornfully made answer. &ldquo;Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been undressin'
+      usself ever sence we's born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll come in here after a while and turn off the light. Good-night,
+      William.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; responded the little boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                THE RABBIT'S LEFT HIND FOOT
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      A few minutes later, as Miss Minerva sat rocking and thinking, the door
+      opened and a lean, graceful, little figure, clad in a skinny, grey union
+      suit, came into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't I a-goin' to say no prayers?&rdquo; demanded a sweet, childish voice.
+      &ldquo;Aunt Cindy hear me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln say us prayers ev'y night
+      sence we's born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course you must say your prayers,&rdquo; said his aunt, blushing at
+      having to be reminded of her duty by this young heathen; &ldquo;kneel down here
+      by me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy looked at his aunt's bony frame and thought of Aunt Cindy's soft,
+      fat, ample lap. A wistful look crossed his childish face as he dropped
+      down in front of her and laid his head against her knee, then the bright,
+      beautiful little face took on an angelic expression as he closed his eyes
+      and softly chanted: &ldquo;'Now I lays me down to sleep, I prays the Lord my
+      soul to keep, If I should die befo' I wake, I prays the Lord my soul to
+      take.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Keep way f'om me hoodoo an' witch, Lead my paf f'om the po'-house gate,
+      I pines fey the golden harps an' sich, Oh, Lord, I'll set an' pray an'
+      wait.' 'Oh, Lord, bless ev'ybody; bless me an' Aunt Cindy, an' Wilkes
+      Booth Lincoln, an' Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline, an' Uncle
+      Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, an' ev'ybody, an' Sam Lamb, an' Aunt Minerva, an'
+      alley Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's chillens, an' give Aunt
+      Minerva a billy goat or a little nanny if she'd ruther, an' bless Major
+      Minerva, an' make me a good boy like Sanctified Sophy, fey Jesus' sake.
+      Amen.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that you have tied around your neck, William?&rdquo; she asked, as the
+      little boy rose to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's my rabbit foot; you won't never have no 'sease 't all an' nobody
+      can't never conjure you if you wears a rabbit foot. This here one is the
+      lef' hin' foot; it was ketched by a red-headed nigger with crosseyes in a
+      graveyard at twelve er'clock on a Friday night, when they's a full moon.
+      He give it to Aunt Cindy to tie 'roun' my nake when I's a baby. Ain't you
+      got no abbit foot?&rdquo; he anxiously inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I have never had one and I have never been conjured
+      either. Give it to me, William; I can not allow you to be so
+      superstitious,&rdquo; and she held out her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, Aunt Minerva, jest lemme wear it to-night,&rdquo; he pleaded. &ldquo;Me an'
+      Wilkes Booth Lincoln's been wearin' us rabbit foots ever sence we's born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said firmly; &ldquo;I'll put a stop to such nonsense at once. Give it
+      to me, William.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy looked at his aunt's austere countenance and lovingly fingered his
+      charm; he opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated; slowly he
+      untied the string around his neck and laid his treasure on her lap; then
+      without looking up, he ran into his own little room, closing the door
+      behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob coming
+      from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked into a sad,
+      little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, William?&rdquo; she coldly asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't never slep' by myself,&rdquo; he sobbed. &ldquo;Wilkes Booth Lincoln always
+      sleep on a pallet by my bed ever sence we's born an'&mdash;'I wants Aunt
+      Cindy to tell me 'bout Uncle Piljerk Peter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His aunt sat down on the bed by his side. She was not versed in the ways
+      of childhood and could not know that the little boy wanted to pillow his
+      head on Aunt Cindy's soft and ample bosom, that he was homesick for his
+      black friends, the only companions he had ever known.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll you a Bible story,&rdquo; she temporized. &ldquo;You must not be a baby. You are
+      not afraid, are you, William? God is always with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' want no God,&rdquo; he sullenly made reply, &ldquo;I wants somebody with sho'
+      'nough skin an' bones, an'&mdash;n' I wants to hear 'bout Uncle Piljerk
+      Peter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you a Bible story,&rdquo; again suggested his aunt, &ldquo;I will tell
+      you about&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' want to hear no Bible story, neither,&rdquo; he objected, &ldquo;I wants to
+      hear Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter play his 'corjun an' sing:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;'Rabbit up the gum tree, Coon is in the holler
+  Wake, snake; Juney-Bug stole a half a dollar.&rdquo;'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll sing you a hymn,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva patiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' want to hear you sing no hymn,&rdquo; said Billy impolitely. &ldquo;I wants to
+      see Sanctified Sophy shout.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As his aunt could think of no substitute with which to tempt him in lieu
+      of Sanctified Sophy's shouting, she remained silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' I wants Wilkes Booth Lincoln to dance a clog,&rdquo; persisted her nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva still remained silent. She felt unable to cope with the
+      situation till she had adjusted her thoughts and made her plans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Billy, looking at her shrewdly, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gimme my rabbit foot, Aunt Minerva, an' I'll go right off to sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When she again looked in on him he was fast asleep, a rosy flush on his
+      babyish, tearstained cheek, his red lips half parted, his curly head
+      pillowed on his arm, and close against his soft, young throat there
+      nestled the left hind foot of a rabbit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva's bed time was half after nine o'clock, summer or winter. She
+      had hardly varied a second in the years that had elapsed since the runaway
+      marriage of her only relative, the young sister whose child had now come
+      to live with her. But on the night of Billy's arrival the stern, narrow
+      woman sat for hours in her rocking chair, her mind busy with thoughts of
+      that pretty young sister, dead since the boy's birth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now the wild, reckless, dissipated brother-in-law was dead, too, and
+      the child had been sent to her; to the aunt who did not want him, who did
+      not care for children, who had never forgiven her sister her unfortunate
+      marriage. &ldquo;If he had only been a girl,&rdquo; she sighed. What she believed to
+      be a happy thought entered her brain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall rear him,&rdquo; she promised herself, &ldquo;just as if he were a little
+      girl; then he will be both a pleasure and a comfort to me, and a companion
+      for my loneliness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva was strictly methodical; she worked ever by the clock, so
+      many hours for this, so many minutes for that. William, she now resolved,
+      for the first time becoming really interested in him, should grow up to be
+      a model young man, a splendid and wonderful piece of mechanism, a fine,
+      practical, machine-like individual, moral, upright, religious. She was
+      glad that he was young; she would begin his training on the morrow. She
+      would teach him to sew, to sweep, to churn, to cook, and when he was older
+      he should be educated for the ministry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva; &ldquo;I shall be very strict with him just at first,
+      and punish him for the slightest disobedience or misdemeanor, and he will
+      soon learn that my authority is not to be questioned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the little boy who had never had a restraining hand laid upon him in
+      his short life? He slept sweetly and innocently in the next room dreaming
+      of the care-free existence on the plantation and of his idle, happy, negro
+      companions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                     THE WILLING WORKER
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get up, William,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva, &ldquo;and come with me to the bath-room;
+      I have fixed your bath.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child's sleepy eyes popped wide open at this astounding command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't this-here Wednesday?&rdquo; he asked sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; to-day is Wednesday. Hurry up or your water will get cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln jest washed las' Sat'day. We ain't got
+      to wash no mo' till nex' Sat'day,&rdquo; he argued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said his relative; &ldquo;you must bathe every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never wash on a Wednesday sence we's
+      born,&rdquo; he protested indignantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's idea of a bath was taken from the severe weekly scrubbing which
+      Aunt Cindy gave him with a hard washrag, and he felt that he'd rather die
+      at once than have to bathe every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He followed his aunt dolefully to the bath-room at the end of the long
+      back-porch of the old-fashioned, one-story house; but once in the big
+      white tub he was delighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact he stayed in it so long Miss Minerva had to knock on the door and
+      tell him to hurry up and get ready for breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say,&rdquo; he yelled out to her, &ldquo;I likes this here; it's mos' as fine as
+      Johnny's Wash Hole where me and' Wilkes Booth Lincoln goes in swimmin'
+      ever sence we's born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he came into the dining-room he was a sight to gladden even a prim
+      old maid's heart. The water had curled his hair into riotous yellow
+      ringlets, his bright eyes gleamed, his beautiful, expressive little face
+      shone happily, and every movement of his agile, lithe figure was grace
+      itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sho' is hongry,&rdquo; he remarked, as he took his seat at the breakfast
+      table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva realized that now was the time to begin her small nephew's
+      training; if she was ever to teach him to speak correctly she must begin
+      at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she said sternly, &ldquo;you must not talk so much like a negro.
+      Instead of saying 'I sho' is hongry,' you should say, 'I am very hungry.'
+      Listen to me and try to speak more correctly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't! don't!&rdquo; she screamed as he helped himself to the meat and gravy,
+      leaving a little brown river on her fresh white tablecloth. &ldquo;Wait until I
+      ask a blessing; then I will help you to what you want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy enjoyed his breakfast very much. &ldquo;These muffins sho' is&mdash;&rdquo; he
+      began; catching his aunt's eye he corrected himself&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These muffins am very good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These muffins are very good,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva patiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever eat any bobbycued rabbit?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Me an' Wilkes Booth
+      Lincoln been eatin' chit'lins, an' sweet 'taters, an' 'possum, an'
+      squirrel, an' hoecake, an' Brunswick stew ever sence we's born,&rdquo; was his
+      proud announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Use your napkin,&rdquo; commanded she, &ldquo;and don't fill your mouth so full.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy flooded his plate with syrup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These-here 'lasses sho' is&mdash;&rdquo; he began, but instantly remembering
+      that he must be more particular in his speech, he stammered out:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These-here sho' is&mdash;am&mdash;are a nice messer 'lasses. I ain't
+      never eat sech a good bait. They sho' is&mdash;I aimed to say&mdash;these
+      'lasses sho' are a bird; they's 'nother sight tastier 'n sorghum, an' Aunt
+      Cindy 'lows that sorghum is the very penurity of a nigger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not again correct him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must be very patient,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;and go very slowly. I must not
+      expect too much of him at first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast Miss Minerva, who would not keep a servant, preferring to
+      do her own work, tied a big cook-apron around the little boy's neck, and
+      told him to churn while she washed the dishes. This arrangement did not
+      suit Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Boys don't churn,&rdquo; he said sullenly, &ldquo;me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln don'
+      never have to churn sence we's born; 'omans has to churn an' I ain't
+      agoing to. Major Minerva&mdash;he ain't never churn,&rdquo; he began
+      belligerently but his relative turned an uncompromising and rather
+      perturbed back upon him. Realizing that he was beaten, he submitted to his
+      fate, clutched the dasher angrily, and began his weary work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was glad his little black friend did not witness his disgrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he thought of Wilkes Booth Lincoln the big tears came into his eyes and
+      rolled down his cheeks; he leaned way over the churn and the great
+      glistening tears splashed right into the hole made for the dasher, and
+      rolled into the milk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy grew interested at once and laughed aloud; he puckered up his face
+      and tried to weep again, for he wanted more tears to fall into the churn;
+      but the tears refused to come and he couldn't squeeze another one out of
+      his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; he said mischievously, &ldquo;I done ruint yo' buttermilk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have you done?&rdquo; she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's done ruint,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;you'll hafter th'ow it away; 't ain't
+      fitten fer nothin.' I done cried 'bout a bucketful in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you cry?&rdquo; asked Miss Minerva calmly. &ldquo;Don't you like to work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes 'm, I jes' loves to work; I wish I had time to work all the time. But
+      it makes my belly ache to churn,&mdash;I got a awful pain right now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Churn on!&rdquo; she commanded unsympathetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He grabbed the dasher and churned vigorously for one minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon the butter's done come,&rdquo; he announced, resting from his labors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It hasn't begun to come yet,&rdquo; replied the exasperated woman. &ldquo;Don't waste
+      so much time, William.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child churned in silence for the space of two minutes, and suggested:
+      &ldquo;It's time to put hot water in it; Aunt Cindy always puts hot water in it.
+      Lemme git some fer you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never put hot water in my milk,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;it makes the butter puffy.
+      Work more and talk less, William.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again there was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the dasher
+      thumping against the bottom of the churn, and the rattle of the dishes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sho' is tired,&rdquo; he presently remarked, heaving a deep sigh. &ldquo;My arms is
+      'bout give out, Aunt Minerva. Ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline
+      see a man churn with his toes; lemme git a chair an' see if I can't churn
+      with my toes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed you shall not,&rdquo; responded his annoyed relative positively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sanctified Sophy knowed a colored 'oman what had a little dog went roun'
+      an' roun' an' churn fer her,&rdquo; remarked Billy after a short pause. &ldquo;If you
+      had a billy goat or a little nanny I could hitch him to the churn fer you
+      ev'ry day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; commanded his aunt, &ldquo;don't say another word until you have
+      finished your work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't I sing?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded permission as she went through the open door into the
+      dining-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Returning a few minutes later she found him sitting astride the churn,
+      using the dasher so vigorously that buttermilk was splashing in every
+      direction, and singing in a clear, sweet voice:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;He'll feed you when you's naked,
+    The orphan stear he'll dry,
+    He'll clothe you when you's hongry
+    An' take you when you die.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva jerked him off with no gentle hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I done now?&rdquo; asked the boy innocently, &ldquo;'tain't no harm as I can see
+      jes' to straddle a churn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go out in the front yard,&rdquo; commanded his aunt, &ldquo;and sit in the swing till
+      I call you. I'll finish the work without your assistance. And, William,&rdquo;
+       she called after him, &ldquo;there is a very bad little boy who lives next door;
+      I want you to have as little to do with him as possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                   SWEETHEART AND PARTNER
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Billy was sitting quietly in the big lawn-swing when his aunt, dressed for
+      the street, finally came through the front door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going up-town, William,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I want to buy you some things
+      that you may go with me to church Sunday. Have you ever been to
+      Sunday-School?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw 'm; but I been to pertracted meetin',&rdquo; came the ready response, &ldquo;I
+      see Sanctified Sophy shout tell she tore ev'y rag offer her back 'ceptin'
+      a shimmy. She's one 'oman what sho' is got 'ligion; she ain't never
+      backslid 't all, an' she ain't never fell f'om grace but one time&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay right in the yard till I come back. Sit in the swing and don't go
+      outside the front yard. I shan't be gone long,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His aunt had hardly left the gate before Billy caught sight of a round,
+      fat little face peering at him through the palings which separated Miss
+      Minerva's yard from that of her next-door neighbor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello!&rdquo; shouted Billy. &ldquo;Is you the bad little boy what can't play with
+      me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?&rdquo; came the answering interrogation
+      across the fence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I's come to live with her,&rdquo; replied Billy. &ldquo;My mama an' papa is dead.
+      What's yo' name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm Jimmy Garner. How old are you? I'm most six, I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shucks, I's already six, a-going on seven. Come on, le's swing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't,&rdquo; said the new acquaintance, &ldquo;I've runned off once to-day, and got
+      licked for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't never got no whippin' sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln 's born,&rdquo;
+       boasted Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't you?&rdquo; asked Jimmy. &ldquo;I 'spec' I been whipped more 'n a million
+      times, my mama is so pertic'lar with me. She's 'bout the pertic'larest
+      woman ever was; she don't 'low me to leave the yard 'thout I get a
+      whipping. I believe I will come over to see you 'bout half a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Suiting the action to the word Jimmy climbed the fence, and the two little
+      boys were soon comfortably settled facing each other in the big
+      lawn-swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who lives over there?&rdquo; asked Billy, pointing to the house across the
+      street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's Miss Cecilia's house. That's her coming out of the front gate
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young lady smiled and waved her hand at them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't she a peach?&rdquo; asked Jimmy. &ldquo;She's my sweetheart and she is 'bout
+      the swellest sweetheart they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's mine, too,&rdquo; promptly replied Billy, who had fallen in love at first
+      sight. &ldquo;I's a-goin' to have her fer my sweetheart too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, she ain't yours, neither; she's mine,&rdquo; angrily declared the other
+      little boy, kicking his rival's legs. &ldquo;You all time talking 'bout you
+      going to have Miss Cecilia for your sweetheart. She's done already
+      promised me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you what,&rdquo; proposed Billy, &ldquo;lemme have her an' you can have
+      Aunt Minerva.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't have Miss Minerva to save your life,&rdquo; replied Jimmy
+      disrespectfully, &ldquo;her nake ain't no bigger 'n that,&rdquo; making a circle of
+      his thumb and forefinger. &ldquo;Miss Cecilia, Miss Cecilia,&rdquo; he shrieked
+      tantalizingly, &ldquo;is my sweetheart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll betcher I have her fer a sweetheart soon as ever I see her,&rdquo; said
+      Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's your name?&rdquo; asked Jimmy presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva says it's William Green Hill, but 'tain't, it's jest plain
+      Billy,&rdquo; responded the little boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't God a nice, good old man,&rdquo; remarked Billy, after they had swung in
+      silence for a while, with an evident desire to make talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That He is,&rdquo; replied Jimmy, enthusiastically. &ldquo;He's 'bout the
+      forgivingest person ever was. I just couldn't get 'long at all 'thout Him.
+      It don't make no differ'nce what you do or how many times you run off, all
+      you got to do is just ask God to forgive you and tell him you're sorry and
+      ain't going to do so no more, that night when you say your prayers, and
+      it's all right with God. S'posing He was one of these wants-his-own-way
+      kind o' mans, He could make Hi'self the troublesomest person ever was, and
+      little boys couldn't do nothing a tall. I sure think a heap of God. He
+      ain't never give me the worst of it yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what He looks like,&rdquo; mused Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I s'pec' He just looks like the three-headed giant in Jack the
+      Giant-Killer,&rdquo; explained Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause He's got three heads and one body.
+      His heads are name' Papa, Son, and Holy Ghost, and His body is just name'
+      plain God. Miss Cecilia 'splained it all to me and she is 'bout the
+      splendidest 'splainer they is. She's my Sunday-School teacher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's goin' to be my Sunday-School teacher, too,&rdquo; said Billy serenely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yours nothing; you all time want my Sunday-School teacher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jimmee!&rdquo; called a voice from the interior of the house in the next yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Somebody's a-callin' you,&rdquo; said Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That ain't nobody but mama,&rdquo; explained Jimmy composedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jimmee-ee!&rdquo; called the voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't make no noise,&rdquo; warned that little boy, &ldquo;maybe she'll give up
+      toreckly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You Jimmee!&rdquo; his mother called again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy made no move to leave the swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' never have to go 'less she says 'James Lafayette Garner,' then I
+      got to hustle,&rdquo; he remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jimmy Garner!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's mighty near got me,&rdquo; he said softly; &ldquo;but maybe she'll get tired
+      and won't call no more. She ain't plumb mad yet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James Garner!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's coming now,&rdquo; said Jimmy dolefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two little boys sat very still and quiet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James Lafayette Garner!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The younger child sprang to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got to get a move on now,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;when she calls like that she means
+      business. I betcher she's got a switch and a hair-brush and a slipper in
+      her hand right this minute. I'll be back toreckly,&rdquo; he promised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was as good as his word, and in a very short time he was sitting again
+      facing Billy in the swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She just wanted to know where her embroid'ry scissors was,&rdquo; he explained.
+      &ldquo;It don't matter what's lost in that house I'm always the one that's got
+      to be 'sponsible and all time got to go look for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you find 'em?&rdquo; asked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yep; I went right straight where I left 'em yeste'day. I had 'em trying
+      to cut a piece of wire. I stole off and went down to Sam Lamb's house this
+      morning and tooken breakfast with him and his old woman, Sukey,&rdquo; he
+      boasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knows Sam Lamb,&rdquo; said Billy, &ldquo;I rode up on the bus with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's my partner,&rdquo; remarked Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's mine, too,&rdquo; said Billy quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he ain't neither; you all time talking 'bout you going to have Sam
+      Lamb for a partner. You want everything I got. You want Miss Cecilia and
+      you want Sam Lamb. Well, you just ain't a-going to have 'em. You got to
+      get somebody else for your partner and sweetheart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you jest wait an' see,&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;I got Major Minerva.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shucks, they ain't no Major name' that away,&rdquo; and Jimmy changed the
+      subject. &ldquo;Sam Lamb's sow's got seven little pigs. He lemme see 'em suck,&rdquo;
+       said Sam Lamb's partner proudly. &ldquo;He's got a cow, too; she's got the
+      worrisomest horns ever was. I believe she's a steer anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shucks,&rdquo; said the country boy, contemptuously, &ldquo;You do' know a steer when
+      you see one; you can't milk no steer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    TURNING ON THE HOSE
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look! Ain't that a snake?&rdquo; shrieked Billy, pointing to what looked to him
+      like a big snake coiled in the yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Snake, nothing!&rdquo; sneered his companion, &ldquo;that's a hose. You all time got
+      to call a hose a snake. Come on, let's sprinkle,&rdquo; and Jimmy sprang out of
+      the swing, jerked up the hose, and dragged it to the hydrant. &ldquo;My mama
+      don't never 'low me to sprinkle with her hose, but Miss Minerva she's so
+      good I don' reckon she'll care,&rdquo; he cried mendaciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy followed, watched his companion screw the hose to the faucet, and
+      turn the water on. There was a hissing, gurgling sound and a stream of
+      water shot out, much to the rapture of the astonished Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't Aunt Minerva care?&rdquo; he asked, anxiously. &ldquo;Is she a real 'ligious
+      'oman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is the Christianest woman they is,&rdquo; announced the other child. &ldquo;Come
+      on, we'll sprinkle the street&mdash;and I don't want nobody to get in our
+      way neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish Wilkes Booth Lincoln could see us,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva's nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A big, fat negress, with a bundle of clothes tied in a red table cloth on
+      her head, came waddling down the sidewalk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy looked at Jimmy and giggled, Jimmy looked at Billy and giggled;
+      then, the latter took careful aim and a stream of water hit the old woman
+      squarely in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who dat? What's yo' doin'?&rdquo; she yelled, as she backed off. &ldquo;'I's a-gwine
+      to tell yo' pappy, Jimmy Garner,&rdquo; as she recognized one of the culprits.
+      &ldquo;Pint dat ar ho'e 'way f'om me, 'fo' I make yo' ma spank yuh slabsided. I
+      got to git home an' wash. Drap it, I tell yuh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two little girls rolling two doll buggies in which reposed two enormous
+      rag-babies were seen approaching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's Lina Hamilton and Frances Black,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;they're my chums.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy took a good look at them. &ldquo;They's goin' to be my chums, too,&rdquo; he
+      said calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your chums, nothing!&rdquo; angrily cried Jimmy, swelling up pompously. &ldquo;You
+      all time trying to claim my chums. I can't have nothing a tall 'thout you
+      got to stick your mouth in. You 'bout the selfishest boy they is. You want
+      everything I got, all time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little girls were now quite near and Jimmy hailed them gleefully,
+      forgetful of his anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on, Lina, you and Frances,&rdquo; he shrieked, &ldquo;and we can have the
+      mostest fun. Billy here's done come to live with Miss Minerva and she's
+      done gone up town and don't care if we sprinkle, 'cause she's got so much
+      'ligion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know none of us are allowed to use a hose,&rdquo; objected Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's so much fun,&rdquo; said Jimmy; &ldquo;and Miss Minerva she's so Christian
+      she ain't going to raise much of a rough-house, and if she do we can run
+      when we see her coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't run,&rdquo; said Billy, &ldquo;I ain't got nowhere to run to an'&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that ain't just like you, Billy,&rdquo; interrupted Jimmy, &ldquo;all time talking
+      'bout you ain't got nowhere to run to; you don't want nobody to have no
+      fun. You 'bout the picayunest boy they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Little Ikey Rosenstein, better known as &ldquo;GooseGrease,&rdquo; dressed in a
+      cast-off suit of his big brother's, with his father's hat set rakishly
+      back on his head and over his ears, was coming proudly down the street
+      some distance off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yonder comes Goose-Grease Rosenstein,&rdquo; said Jimmy gleefully. &ldquo;When he
+      gets right close le's make him hop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; agreed Billy, his good humor restored, &ldquo;le's baptize him
+      good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we can't baptize him,&rdquo; exclaimed the other little boy, &ldquo;'cause he's a
+      Jew and the Bible says not to baptize Jews. You got to mesmerize 'em. How
+      come me to know so much?&rdquo; he continued condescendingly, &ldquo;Miss Cecilia
+      teached me in the Sunday-School. Sometimes I know so much I I feel like
+      I'm going to bust. She teached me 'bout 'Scuffle little chillens and
+      forbid 'em not,' and 'bout 'Ananias telled Sapphira he done it with his
+      little hatchet,' and 'bout 'Lijah jumped over the moon in a automobile: I
+      know everything what's in the Bible. Miss Cecilia sure is a crackerjack;
+      she's 'bout the stylishest Sunday-School teacher they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'T was the cow jumped over the moon,&rdquo; said Frances, &ldquo;and it isn't in the
+      Bible; it's in Mother Goose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Elijah went to Heaven in a chariot of fire,&rdquo; corrected Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I know all 'bout Gabr'el,&rdquo; continued Jimmy unabashed. &ldquo;When folks
+      called him to blow his trumpet he was under the haystack fast asleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ikey was quite near by this time to command the attention of the four
+      children.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's mesmerize Goose-Grease,&rdquo; yelled Jimmy, as he turned the stream of
+      water full upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frances, Lina, and Billy clapped their hands and laughed for joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a terrified and angry shriek their victim, dripping water at every
+      step, ran howling by his tormentors. When he reached a safe distance he
+      turned around, shook a fist at them, and screamed back:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My papa is going to have you all arrested and locked up in the
+      calaboose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Calaboose, nothing!&rdquo; jeered Jimmy. &ldquo;You all time wanting to put somebody
+      in the calaboose 'cause they mesmerize you. You got to be mesmerized
+      'cause it's in the Bible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A short, stout man, dressed in neat black clothes, was coming toward them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's the Major!&rdquo; screamed Billy delightedly, taking the hose and
+      squaring himself to greet his friend of the train, but Jimmy jerked it out
+      of his hand, before either of them noticed him turning about, as if for
+      something forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't got the sense of a one-eyed tadpole, Billy,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That's
+      Miss Minerva's beau. He's been loving her more 'n a million years. My mama
+      says he ain't never going to marry nobody a tall 'thout he can get Miss
+      Minerva, and Miss Minerva she just turns up her nose at anything that
+      wears pants. You better not sprinkle him. He's been to the war and got his
+      big toe shot off. He kilt 'bout a million Injuns and Yankees and he's
+      name' Major 'cause he's a Confed'rit vetrun. He went to the war when he
+      ain't but fourteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he have on long pants?&rdquo; asked Billy. &ldquo;I call him Major Minerva&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gladys Maude's got the pennyskeeters,&rdquo; broke in Frances importantly,
+      fussing over her baby, &ldquo;and I'm going to see Doctor Sanford. Don't you
+      think she looks pale, Jimmy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pale, nothing!&rdquo; sneered the little boy. &ldquo;Girls got to all time play their
+      dolls are sick. Naw; I don't know nothing a tall 'bout your Gladys Maude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lina gazed up the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That looks like Miss Minerva to me 'way up yonder,&rdquo; she remarked. &ldquo;I
+      think we had better get away from here before she sees us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two little girls rolling two doll buggies fairly flew down the street and
+      one little boy quickly climbed to the top of the dividing fence. From this
+      safe vantage point he shouted to Billy, who was holding the nozzle of the
+      hose out of which poured a stream of water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You 'd better turn that water off 'cause Miss Minerva's going to be
+      madder 'n a green persimmon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do' know how to,&rdquo; said Billy forlornly. &ldquo;You turnt it on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drop the hose and run to the hydrant and twist that little thing at the
+      top,&rdquo; screamed Jimmy. &ldquo;You all time got to perpose someping to get little
+      boys in trouble anyway,&rdquo; he added ungenerously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You perposed this yo'self,&rdquo; declared an indignant Billy. &ldquo;You said Aunt
+      Minerva's so 'ligious she wouldn't git mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christian womans can get just as mad as any other kind,&rdquo; declared the
+      other boy, sliding from his perch on the fence and running across his lawn
+      to disappear behind his own front door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Holding her skirts nearly up to her knees Miss Minerva stepped gingerly
+      along the wet and muddy street till she got to her gate, where her nephew
+      met her, looking a little guilty, but still holding his head up with that
+      characteristic, manly air which was so attractive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she said sternly, &ldquo;I see you have been getting into mischief,
+      and I feel it my duty to punish you, so that you may learn to be
+      trustworthy. I said nothing to you about the hose because I did not think
+      you would know how to use it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy remained silent. He did not want to betray his little companions of
+      the morning, so he said nothing in his own defense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come with me into the house,&rdquo; continued his aunt, &ldquo;you must go to bed at
+      once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the child protested vigorously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don' make me go to bed in the daytime, Aunt Minerva; me an' Wilkes Booth
+      Lincoln ain't never went to bed in the daytime since we's born, an' I
+      ain't never hear tell of a real 'ligious 'oman a-puttin' a little boy in
+      bed 'fore it's dark; an' I ain't never a-goin' to meddle with yo' ole hose
+      no mo'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Miss Minerva was obdurate, and the little boy spent a miserable hour
+      between the sheets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    SUCCESSFUL STRATEGY.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have a present for you,&rdquo; said his aunt, handing Billy a long,
+      rectangular package.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, ma'am,&rdquo; said her beaming nephew as he sat down on the floor,
+      all eager anticipation, and began to untie the string. His charming,
+      changeful face was bright and happy again, but his expression became one
+      of indignant amaze as he saw the contents of the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I want with a doll?&rdquo; he asked angrily, &ldquo;I ain't no girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think every little boy should have a doll and learn to make clothes for
+      it,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva. &ldquo;I don't want you to be a great, rough boy; I want
+      you to be sweet and gentle like a little girl; I am going to teach you how
+      to sew and cook and sweep, so you may grow up a comfort to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a gloomy forecast for the little boy accustomed, as he had been,
+      to the freedom of a big plantation, and he scowled darkly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hafter play with no dolls sence
+      we's born,&rdquo; he replied sullenly, &ldquo;we goes in swimmin' an' plays baseball.
+      I can knock a home-run an' pitch a curve an' ketch a fly. Why don't you
+      gimme a baseball bat? I already got a ball what Admiral Farragut gimme.
+      An' I ain't agoin' to be no sissy neither. Lina an' Frances plays dolls,
+      me an' Jimmy&mdash;&rdquo; he stopped in sudden confusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lina and Frances and James!&rdquo; exclaimed his aunt. &ldquo;What do you know about
+      them, William?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child's face flushed. &ldquo;I seen 'em this mornin',&rdquo; he acknowledged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva put a hand on either shoulder der and looked straight into
+      his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William, who started that sprinkling this morning?&rdquo; she questioned,
+      sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy flushed guiltily and lowered his eyelids; but only for an instant.
+      Quickly recovering his composure he returned her gaze steadily and ignored
+      her question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see yo' beau too, Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; he remarked tranquilly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Miss Minerva this time who lost her composure, for her thin, sallow
+      face became perfectly crimson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My beau?&rdquo; she asked confusedly. &ldquo;Who put that nonsense into your head?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jimmy show him to me,&rdquo; he replied jauntily, once more master of the
+      situation and in full realization of the fact. &ldquo;Why don't you marry him,
+      Aunt Minerva, so's he could live right here with us? An' I could learn him
+      how to churn. I s'pec' he 'd make a beautiful churner. He sho' is a pretty
+      little fat man,&rdquo; he continued flatteringly. &ldquo;An' dress? That beau was jest
+      dressed plumb up to the top notch. I sho' would marry him if I's you an'
+      not turn up my nose at him 'cause he wears pants, an' you can learn him
+      how to talk properer'n what he do an' I betcher he'd jest nachelly take to
+      a broom, an' I s'pec' he ain't got nobody 'tall to show him how to sew.
+      An' y' all could get the doctor to fetch you a little baby so he wouldn't
+      hafter play with no doll. I sho' wisht we had him here,&rdquo; ended a selfish
+      Billy, &ldquo;he could save me a lot of steps. An' I sho' would like to hear
+      'bout all them Injuns an' Yankees what he's killed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's aunt was visibly embarrassed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The persistent admiration of this, her one lover, had been pleasing to
+      her, yet she had never been willing to sacrifice her independence for the
+      cares and trials of matrimony. The existing state of affairs between the
+      two was known to every one in the small town, but such was Miss Minerva's
+      dignified aloofness that Billy was the first person who had ever dared to
+      broach the subject to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down here, William,&rdquo; she commanded, &ldquo;and I will read to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me a tale,&rdquo; he said, looking up at her with his bright, sweet smile.
+      The doll lay neglected on a chair near by and Billy wanted her to forget
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me 'bout Piljerk Peter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Piljerk Peter?&rdquo; there was an interrogation in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yas 'm. Ain't you never hear tell 'bout Piljerk Peter? He had fifteen
+      chillens an' one time the las' one of 'em an' his ole 'oman was down with
+      the fever an' he ain't got but one pill an' they so sick they mos' 'bout
+      to die an' ain't nobody in the fiel' fer to pick the cotton an' he can't
+      git no doctor an' he ain't got but jest that one pill; so he tie that pill
+      to a string an' let the bigges' chile swaller it an' draw it back up an'
+      let the nex' chile swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex, Chile
+      swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex' Chile swaller it an' jerk
+      it back up an' let the nex'&mdash;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe in telling tales to children,&rdquo; interrupted his aunt, &ldquo;I
+      will tell you biographical and historical stories and stories from the
+      Bible. Now listen, while I read to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up,&rdquo; continued Billy
+      serenely, &ldquo;an' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up tell
+      finely ev'y single one of 'em, plumb down to the baby, swaller that pill
+      an' the las' one of 'em got well an' that one pill it done the work. Then
+      he tuck the pill and give it to his ole 'oman an' she swaller it an' he
+      jerk it back up but didn't nothin' 'tall come up but jest the string an'
+      his ole 'oman she died 'cause all the strenk done gone outer that pill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva opened a book called &ldquo;Gems for the Household,&rdquo; which she had
+      purchased from a silvertongued book-agent. She selected an article the
+      subject of which was &ldquo;The Pure in Heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy listened with a seemingly attentive ear to the choice flow of words,
+      but in reality his little brain was busy with its own thoughts. The
+      article closed with the suggestion that if one were innocent and pure he
+      would have a dreamless sleep&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;If you have a conscience clear,
+    And God's commands you keep;
+    If your heart is good and pure,
+    You will have a perfect sleep.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Billy's aunt concluded. Wishing to know if he had understood what she had
+      just read she asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What people sleep the soundest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Niggers,&rdquo; was his prompt reply, as he thought of the long summer days and
+      the colored folk on the plantation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was disappointed, but not discouraged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, William,&rdquo; she admonished, &ldquo;I'm going to read you another piece, and
+      I want you to tell me about it, when I get through. Pay strict attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yas 'm,&rdquo; he readily agreed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She chose an article describing the keen sense of smell in animals. Miss
+      Minerva was not an entertaining reader and the words were long and fairly
+      incomprehensible to the little boy sitting patiently at her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again his thoughts wandered, though every now and then he caught a word or
+      two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What animals have the keenest sense of smell, William?&rdquo; was her query at
+      the conclusion of her reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy goats,&rdquo; was Billy's answer without the slightest hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have goats on the brain,&rdquo; she said in anger. &ldquo;I did not read one word
+      about billy goats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if 'taint a billy goat,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;I do' know what 'tis 'thout
+      it's a skunk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bought you a little primer this morning,&rdquo; she remarked after a short
+      silence, &ldquo;and I want you to say a lesson every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I already knows a lot,&rdquo; he boasted. &ldquo;Tabernicle, he 'an' Mercantile both
+      been to school an' they learnt me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln. I knows
+      crooked S, an' broken back K, an' curly tail Q, an' roun' O, an' I can
+      spell c-a-t cat, an' d-o-g dog an' A stands fer apple.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That night he concluded his ever lengthy prayer at his kinswoman's knee
+      with:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Lord, please make for Aunt Minerva a little baby, make her two of 'em.
+      O Lord, if you got 'em to spare please make her three little babies an'
+      let 'em all be girls so's she can learn 'em how to churn an' sew. An'
+      bless Aunt Minerva and Major Minerva, f'r ever 'nd ever. Amen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he rose from his knees he asked: &ldquo;Aunt Minerva, do God work on Sunday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No-o,&rdquo; answered his relative, hesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it look like He'd jest hafter work on Sunday, He's so busy jest
+      a-makin' babies. He makes all the niggers an' heathens an' Injuns an'
+      white chillens; I reckon He gits somebody to help him. Don't you, Aunt
+      Minerva?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                  RABBITS' AND OTHER EGGS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Billy was sitting in the swing. Jimmy crawled over the fence and joined
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Cecilia's dyeing me some Easter eggs,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;all blue and pink
+      and green and yelluh and every kind they is; I tooken her some of our
+      hen's eggs and she is going to fix 'em for me and they'll be just like
+      rabbit's eggs; I reckon I'll have 'bout a million. I'll give you one,&rdquo; he
+      added generously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want more 'n one,&rdquo; declared Billy, who was used to having the lion's
+      share of everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You all time talking 'bout you want more 'n one egg,&rdquo; said Jimmy. &ldquo;You
+      'bout the stingiest Peter they is. Ain't you got no eggs? Get Miss Minerva
+      to give you some of hers and I'll take 'em over and ask Miss Cecilia to
+      dye 'em for you 'cause you ain't 'quainted with her yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva ain't got none 'cep'in' what she put under a of hen fer to
+      set this mornin':&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you get 'em from under the old hen? Miss Minerva is such a
+      Christian woman, she ain't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You done fool me 'bout that 'ligious business befo',&rdquo; interrupted Billy,
+      &ldquo;an' I got put to bed in the daytime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she won't never miss two or three eggs,&rdquo; coaxed Jimmy. &ldquo;How many
+      did she put under the old hen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She put fifteen,&rdquo; was the response, &ldquo;an' I don't believe she'd want me to
+      tech 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They 're 'bout the prettiest eggs ever was,&rdquo; continued the tempter, &ldquo;all
+      blue and pink and green, and 'bout a million kinds. They're just perzactly
+      like rabbit's eggs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hear teller no rabbit's eggs
+      sence we's born,&rdquo; said Billy; &ldquo;I don't berlieve rabbits lays eggs nohow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They don' lay 'em 'cept to Easter,&rdquo; said Jimmy. &ldquo;Miss Cecilia 'splained
+      it all to me and she's my Sunday-School teacher and rabbits is bound to
+      lay eggs 'cause it's in the Bible and she's 'bout the prettiest 'splainer
+      they is. I'm going over there now to see 'bout my eggs,&rdquo; and he made
+      believe to leave the swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le's us slip roun' to the hen-house an' see what the of hen's a-doin',&rdquo;
+       suggested the sorely tempted Billy. &ldquo;Aunt Minerva is a-makin' me some
+      nightshirts an' she ain't takin' no notice of nothin' else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They tiptoed stealthily around the house to the back-yard, but found the
+      hen-house door locked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you get the key?&rdquo; asked the younger child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I can't,&rdquo; replied the other boy, &ldquo;but you can git in th'oo this-here
+      little hole what the chickens goes in at, whiles I watches fer Aunt
+      Minerva. I'll stand right here an' hol' my cap whiles you fetches me the
+      eggs. An' don't you take more 'n five or six,&rdquo; he warned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm skeered of the old hen,&rdquo; objected Jimmy. &ldquo;Is she much of a pecker?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, she ain't a-goin' to hurt you,&rdquo; was the encouraging reply. &ldquo;Git up
+      an' crawl th'oo; I'll help you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy, having overcome his scruples, now entered into the undertaking with
+      great zest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy climbed the chicken ladder, kicked his chubby legs through the
+      aperture, hung suspended on his fat little middle for an instant, and
+      finally, with much panting and tugging, wriggled his plump, round body
+      into the hen-house. He walked over where a lonesome looking hen was
+      sitting patiently on a nest. He put out a cautious hand and the hen
+      promptly gave it a vicious peck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy,&rdquo; he called angrily, &ldquo;you got to come in here and hold this old
+      chicken; she's 'bout the terriblest pecker they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy stuck his head in the little square hole. &ldquo;Go at her from behind,&rdquo;
+       he suggested; &ldquo;put yo' hand under her easy like, an' don' let her know
+      what you's up to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy tried to follow these instructions, but received another peck for
+      his pains. He promptly mutinied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you want any eggs,&rdquo; he declared, scowling at the face framed in the
+      aperture, &ldquo;you can come get 'em yourself. I done monkeyed with this
+      chicken all I'm going to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Billy climbed up and easily got his lean little body through the
+      opening. He dexterously caught the hen by the nape of the neck, as he had
+      seen Aunt Cindy do, while Jimmy reached for the eggs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we ain't done lef' my cap outside on the groun',&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;What we
+      goin' to put the eggs in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's just like you, Billy, you all time got to leave your cap on
+      the ground. I'll put 'em in my blouse till you get outside and then I'll
+      hand 'em to you. How many you going to take?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We might just as well git 'em all now,&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;Aunt Cindy say
+      they's some kinder hens won't lay no chickens 't all if folks put they
+      hands in they nests an' this here hen look like to me she's one of them
+      kind, so the rester the egg'll jest be waste, any how, 'cause you done put
+      yo' han's in her nes', an' a dominicker ain't a-goin' to stan' no
+      projeckin' with her eggs. Hurry up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy carefully distributed the eggs inside his blouse, and Billy once
+      more crawled through the hole and stood on the outside waiting, cap in
+      hand, to receive them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the patient hen had at last raised her voice in angry protest and set
+      up a furious cackling, which so frightened the little boy on the inside
+      that he was panic-stricken. He caught hold of a low roost pole, swung
+      himself up and, wholly unmindful of his blouse full of eggs, pushed his
+      lower limbs through the hole and stuck fast. A pair of chubby, sturdy
+      legs, down which were slowly trickling little yellow rivulets, and half of
+      a plump, round body were all that would go through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pull!&rdquo; yelled the owner of the short fat legs. &ldquo;I'm stuck and can't go no
+      furder. Pull me th'oo, Billy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      About this time the defrauded fowl flew from her nest and attempted to get
+      out by her rightful exit. Finding it stopped up by a wriggling, squirming
+      body she perched herself on the little boy's neck and flapped her enraged
+      wings in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pull!&rdquo; yelled the child again, &ldquo;help me th'oo, Billy, 'fore this fool
+      chicken pecks all the meat off 'm my bones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy grabbed the sticky limbs and gave a valiant tug, but the body did
+      not move an inch. Alas, Jimmy with his cargo of broken eggs was fast
+      imprisoned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pull again!&rdquo; yelled the scared and angry child, &ldquo;you 'bout the idjetest
+      idjet they is if you can't do no better 'n that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy jerked with all his strength, but with no visible result.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pull harder! You no-count gump!&rdquo; screamed the prisoner, beating off the
+      hen with his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy on the outside, who was strong for his years, braced himself and
+      gave a mighty wrench of the other child's stout extremities. Jimmy howled
+      in pain and gave his friend an energetic kick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme go!&rdquo; he shrieked, &ldquo;you old impe'dunt backbiter. I'm going to tell
+      Miss Minerva you pulled my legs out by the roots.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A small portion of the prisoner's blouse was visible. Billy caught hold of
+      it and gave a strong jerk. There was a sound of ripping and tearing and
+      the older boy fell sprawling on his back with a goodly portion of the
+      younger child's raiment in his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now see what you done,&rdquo; yelled the victim of his energy, &ldquo;you ain't got
+      the sense of a buffalo gnat. Oh! oh! This hole is 'bout to cut my stomach
+      open.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, Jimmy!&rdquo; warned the other child. &ldquo;Don't make so much noise. Aunt
+      Minerva'll hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want her to hear me,&rdquo; screamed Jimmy. &ldquo;You'd like me to stay stuck in a
+      chicken hole all night. Oh! oh! oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The noise did indeed bring Billy's aunt out on a tour of investigation.
+      She had to knock a plank off the hen-house with an axe before Jimmy's
+      release could be accomplished. He was lifted down, red, angry, sticky, and
+      perspiring, and was indeed a sight to behold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy got to all time perpose something to get little boys in trouble,&rdquo;
+       he growled, &ldquo;and got to all time get 'em stuck in a hole in a
+      chicken-house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My nephew's name is William,&rdquo; corrected she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You perposed this here yo'self!&rdquo; cried an indignant Billy. &ldquo;Me an' Wilkes
+      Booth Lincoln don' know nothin' 't all 'bout no rabbit's eggs sence we's
+      born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't matter who proposed it,&rdquo; said his aunt firmly. &ldquo;You are going
+      to be punished, William. I have just finished one of your night-shirts.
+      Come with me and put it on and go to bed. Jimmy, you go home and show
+      yourself to your mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pick up yo' shirt-tail offer the groun' what I tore off, Jimmy,&rdquo; advised
+      Billy, &ldquo;an' take it home to yo' ma. Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; he pleaded, following
+      mournfully behind her, &ldquo;please don't put me to bed; the Major he don' go
+      to bed no daytimes; I won't never get me no mo' eggs to make rabbit's eggs
+      outer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                      TELLERS OF TALES
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The days flew rapidly by. Miss Minerva usually attempted to train Billy
+      all the morning, and by the midday dinner hour she was so exhausted that
+      she was glad to let him play in the front yard during the afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here he was often joined by the three children whose acquaintance he had
+      made the day after his arrival, and the quartette became staunch friends
+      and chums.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All four were sitting in the swing one warm spring day, under the
+      surveillance of Billy's aunt, sewing on the veranda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's tell tales,&rdquo; suggested Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; agreed Frances. &ldquo;I'll tell the first. Once there's&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, you ain't neither,&rdquo; interrupted the little boy. &ldquo;You all time
+      talking 'bout you going to tell the first tale. I'm going to tell the
+      first tale myself. One time they's&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you are not either,&rdquo; said Lina positively. &ldquo;Frances is a girl and she
+      ought to be the first if she wants to. Don't you think so, Billy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yas, I does,&rdquo; championed he; &ldquo;go on, Frances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That little girl, thus encouraged, proceeded to tell the first tale:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once there's a man named Mr. Elisha, and he had a friend named Mr.
+      Elijah, so his mantelpiece fell on top of his head and make him perfectly
+      bald; he hasn't got a single hair and he hasn't got any money, 'cause mama
+      read me 'bout he rented his garments, which is clo'es, 'cause he didn't
+      have none at all what belong to him. I spec' he just rented him a shirt
+      and a pair o' breeches and wore 'em next to his hide 'thout no undershirt
+      at all. He was drea'ful poor and had a miser'ble time and old mean Mr.
+      Per'dventure took him up on a high mountain and left him, so when he come
+      down some bad little childern say, 'Go 'long back, bald head!' and they
+      make pockmocks on him. Seems like everybody treat him bad, so he cuss 'em,
+      so I never see anybody with a bald head 'thout I run, 'cause I don't want
+      to get cussed. So two Teddy bears come out of the woods and ate up
+      forty-two hunderd of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Frances,&rdquo; reproved Lina, &ldquo;you always get things wrong. I don't
+      believe they ate up that many children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, they did too,&rdquo; championed Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause it's in the Bible and Miss
+      Cecilia 'splained all 'bout it to me, and she's our Sunday-School teacher
+      and 'bout the bullyest 'splainer they is. Them Teddy bears ate up 'bout a
+      million chillens, which is all the little boys and girls two Teddy bears
+      can hold at a time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knows a man what ain't got no hair 't all on his head,&rdquo; remarked Billy;
+      &ldquo;he's a conjure-man an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been talkin' to him
+      ever sence we's born an' he ain't never cuss us, an' I ain't never got eat
+      up by no Teddy bears neither. Huccome him to be bald? He's out in the
+      fiel' one day a-pickin' cotton when he see a tu'key buzzard an' he talk to
+      her like this:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'I say tu'key buzzard, I say,
+     Who shall I see unexpected today?'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she flop her wings three times you goin' to see yo' sweetheart, but
+      this-here buzzard ain't flop no wings 't all; she jes' lean over an' th'ow
+      up on his head an' he been bald ever sence; ev'y single hair come out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you-all hear 'bout that 'Talian Dago that works on the section gang
+      eating a buzzard?&rdquo; asked Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw,&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;Did it make him sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That it did,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;he sent for Doctor Sanford and tells him,
+      'Me killa de big bird, me eat-a de big bird, de big bird make-a me seek.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Them Dagoes 'bout the funniest talking folks they is,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;but
+      they got to talk that way 'cause it's in the Bible. They 'sputed on the
+      tower of Babel and the Lord say 'Confound you!' Miss Cecilia 'splained it
+      all to me and she's 'bout the dandiest 'splainer they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may tell your tale now, Jimmy,&rdquo; said Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to tell 'bout William Tell 'cause he's in the Bible,&rdquo; said
+      Jimmy. &ldquo;Once they's a man name'&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William Tell isn't in the Bible,&rdquo; declared Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he is too,&rdquo; contended the little boy, &ldquo;Miss Cecilia 'splained it to
+      me. You all time setting yourself up to know more'n me and Miss Cecilia.
+      One time they's a man name' William Tell and he had a little boy what's
+      the cutest kid they is and the Devil come 'long and temp' him. Then the
+      Lord say, 'William Tell, you and Adam and Eve can taste everything they is
+      in the garden 'cepting this one apple tree; you can get all the pears and
+      bunnanas and peaches and grapes and oranges and plums and persimmons and
+      scalybarks and fig leaves and 'bout a million other kinds of fruit if you
+      want to, but don't you tech a single apple.' And the Devil temp' him and
+      say he going to put his cap on a pole and everybody got to bow down to it
+      for a idol and if William Tell don't bow down to it he got to shoot a
+      apple for good or evil off 'm his little boy's head. That's all the little
+      boy William Tell and Adam and Eve got, but he ain't going to fall down and
+      worship no gravy image on top a pole, so he put a tomahawk in his bosom
+      and he tooken his bow and arrur and shot the apple plumb th'oo the middle
+      and never swinge a hair of his head. And Eve nibble off the apple and give
+      Adam the core, and Lina all time 'sputing 'bout Adam and Eve and William
+      Tell ain't in the Bible. They 're our first parents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Billy, you tell a tale and then it will be my time,&rdquo; said Lina with
+      a savingthe-best-for-the-last air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once they was a of witch,&rdquo; said Billy, &ldquo;what got outer her skin ev'y
+      night an' lef' it on the he'rth an' turnt herself to a great, big, black
+      cat an' go up the chim'ly an' go roun' an' ride folks fer horses, an' set
+      on ev'ybody's chis' an' suck they breath an' kill 'em an' then come back
+      to bed. An' can't nobody ketch her tell one night her husban' watch her
+      an' he see her jump outer her skin an' drop it on the he'rth an' turn to a
+      'normous black cat an' go up the chim'ly. An' he got outer the bed an' put
+      some salt an' pepper an' vinegar on the skin an' she come back an' turnt
+      to a 'oman an' try to git back in her skin an' she can't 'cause the salt
+      an' pepper an' vinegar mos' burn her up, an' she keep on a-tryin' an' she
+      can't never snuggle inter her skin 'cause it keep on a burnin' worser 'n
+      ever, an' there she is a 'oman 'thout no skin on. So she try to turn back
+      to a cat an' she can't 'cause it's pas' twelve erclock, an' she jest
+      swivvle an' swivvle tell fine'ly she jest swivvle all up. An' that was the
+      las' of the ole witch an' her husban' live happy ever after. Amen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once upon a time,&rdquo; said Lina, &ldquo;there was a beautiful maiden and she was
+      in love, but her wicked old parent wants her to marry a rich old man
+      threescore and ten years old, which is 'most all the old you can get
+      unless you are going to die; and the lovely princess said, 'No, father,
+      you may cut me in the twain but I will never marry any but my true love.'
+      So the wicked parent shut up the lovely maiden in a high tower many miles
+      from the ground, and made her live on turnips and she had nothing else to
+      eat; so one day when she was crying a little fairy flew in at the window
+      and asked, 'Why do you weep, fair one?' And she said, 'A wicked parent
+      hath shut me up and I can't ever see my lover any more.' So the fairy
+      touched her head with her wand and told her to hang her hair out of the
+      window, and she did and it reached the ground, and her lover, holding a
+      rope ladder in one hand and playing the guitar and singing with the other,
+      climbed up by her hair and took her down on the ladder and his big black
+      horse was standing near, all booted and spurred, and they rode away and
+      lived happy ever after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How he goin' to clam' up, Lina,&rdquo; asked Billy, &ldquo;with a rope ladder in one
+      hand and his guitar in the other?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the dignified answer. &ldquo;That is the way it is told in
+      my fairy-tale book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                   CHANGING THE ETHIOPIAN
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Billy and Jimmy were sitting in the swing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What makes your hair curl just like a girl's?&rdquo; asked the latter. &ldquo;It's
+      'bout the curliest hair they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it do,&rdquo; was Billy's mournful response. &ldquo;It done worry me 'mos' to
+      death. Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born we done try ev'ything
+      fer to get the curl out. They was a Yankee man came 'long las' fall
+      a-sellin' some stuff in a bottle what he call 'No-To-Kink' what he say
+      would take the kink outer any nigger's head. An' Aunt Cindy bought a
+      bottle fer to take the kink outer her hair an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln
+      put some on us heads an' it jes' make mine curlier 'n what it was already.
+      I's 'shame' to go roun' folks with my cap off, a-lookin' like a frizzly
+      chicken. Miss Cecilia say she like it though, an' we's engaged. We's goin'
+      to git married soon's I puts on long pants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long you been here, Billy?&rdquo; asked the other boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't know perxactly, but I been to Sunday-School four times. I
+      got engaged to Miss Cecilia that very firs' Sunday, but she didn' know it
+      tell I went over to her house the nex' day an' tol' her 'bout it. She say
+      she think my hair is so pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty nothin',&rdquo; sneered his rival. &ldquo;She jus' stuffin' you fuller 'n a
+      tick with hot air. It just makes you look like a girl. There's a young
+      lady come to spend a week with my mama not long ago and she put somepin'
+      on her head to make it right yeller. She left the bottle to our house and
+      I know where 't is. Maybe if you'd put some o' that on your head 't would
+      take the curl out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tain't nothin' a-goin' to do it no good,&rdquo; gloomily replied Billy.
+      &ldquo;'Twould jest make it yeller 'n what 'tis now. Won't I be a pretty sight
+      when I puts on long pants with these here yaller curls stuck on topper my
+      head? I'd 'nuther sight ruther be bal'headed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bennie Dick's got 'bout the kinkiest head they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bennie Dick was the two-year-old baby of Mrs. Garner's cook, Sarah Jane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sho' is,&rdquo; replied Billy. &ldquo;Wouldn't he look funny if he had yaller
+      hair, 'cause his face is so black?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know where the bottle is,&rdquo; cried Jimmy, snatching eagerly at the
+      suggestion. &ldquo;Let's go get it and put some on Bennie Dick's head and see if
+      it'll turn it yeller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva don' want me to go over to yo' house,&rdquo; objected Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You all time talking 'bout Miss Minerva won't let you go nowheres; she
+      sure is imperdunt to you. You 'bout the 'fraidest boy they is.... Come on,
+      Billy,&rdquo; pleaded Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to git Aunt Minerva's dander der up any more 'n I jest
+      natchelly boun' to,&rdquo; he said, following Jimmy reluctantly to the fence;
+      &ldquo;but I'll jes' take a look at that bottle an' see ef it looks anything 't
+      all like 'No-To-Kink'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Giggling mightily, they jumped the dividing fence and slipped with
+      stealthy tread around the house to Sarah Jane's cabin in the back-yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bennie Dick was sitting on the floor before the open door, the entrance of
+      which was, securely barricaded to keep him inside. Sarah Jane was in the
+      kitchen cooking supper; they could hear her happy voice raised in
+      religious melody; Mrs. Garner had not yet returned from a card party; the
+      coast was clear, and the time propitious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy tiptoed to the house and soon returned with a big bottle of a
+      powerful &ldquo;blondine&rdquo; in one hand and a stick of candy in the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bennie Dick,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;here's a nice stick of candy for you if you'll
+      let us wash your head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The negro baby's thick, red lips curved in a grin of delight, his shiny
+      ebony face beamed happily, his round black eyes sparkled as he held out
+      his fat, rusty little hands. He sucked greedily at the candy as the two
+      mischievous little boys uncorked the bottle and, poured a generous supply
+      of the liquid on his head. They rubbed it in well, grinning with delight.
+      They made a second and a third application before the bottle was
+      exhausted; then they stood off to view the result of their efforts. The
+      effect was ludicrous. The combination of coal black skin and red gold hair
+      presented by the little negro exceeded the wildest expectations of Jimmy
+      and Billy. They shrieked with laughter and rolled over and over on the
+      floor in their unbounded delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; warned Jimmy suddenly, &ldquo;I believe Sarah Jane's coming out here to
+      see 'bout Benny Dick. Let's get behind the door and see what she's going
+      to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      An' hit's good ernough fer me.'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      floated Sarah Jane's song nearer and nearer.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'Hit's de ole time erligion,
+      Hit's de ole time'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      She caught sight of her baby with his glistening black face and golden
+      hair. She threw up her hands, closed her eyes, and uttered a terrified
+      shriek. Presently she slowly opened her eyes and took a second peep at her
+      curious-looking offspring. Sarah Jane screamed aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hit's de handiwork er de great Jehoshaphat! Hit's de Marster's sign. Who
+      turnt yo' hair, Benny Dick?&rdquo; she asked of the sticky little pickaninny
+      sitting happily on the floor. &ldquo;Is a angel been here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of comprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hit's de doing er de Lord,&rdquo; cried his mother. &ldquo;He gwine turn my chile
+      white an' he done begunt on his head!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an ecstatic giggle from behind the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sarah Jane rushed inside as fast as her mammoth proportions would admit
+      and caught a culprit in each huge black paw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;What yer been er-doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sudden suspicion entered her mind as she caught sight of the empty bottle
+      lying on a chair. &ldquo;You been er-putting' suthin' on my chile's head! I
+      knows yer, I's er-gwine ter make yo' mammy gi' ye de worses' whippin' yer
+      eber got an' I's gwine ter take dis here William right ober ter Miss
+      Minerva. Ain't y' all 'shame' er yerselves? Er tamperin' wid de ha'r what
+      de good Lord put on er colored pusson's head an' ertryin' fer ter scarify
+      my feelin's like yer done. An' yer hear me, I's gwine see dat somebody got
+      ter scarify yer hides.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that ain't just like you, Billy,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;you all time got to
+      perpose to make nigger heads yeller and you all time getting little boys
+      in trouble. You 'bout the smart Alexist jack-rabbit they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You perposed this here hair business yo'self, Jimmy,&rdquo; retorted his
+      fellow-conspirator. &ldquo;You's always blamin' yo' meanness on somebody else
+      ever sence you's born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hit don't matter who perposed hit,&rdquo; said Sarah Jane firmly; &ldquo;meanness has
+      been did, an' y' all gotter be structified on de place pervided by natur
+      fer ter lem my chile erlone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    LO! THE POOR INDIANS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Billy had just decided to run down to the livery stable to pay Sam Lamb a
+      visit when the gate opened, and Lina and Frances, their beloved dolls in
+      their arms, came skipping in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy, who had had a difference with Billy and was in the sulks on his own
+      side of the fence, immediately crawled over and joined the others in the
+      swing. He was lonesome and the prospect of companionship was too alluring
+      for him to nurse his anger longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva's gone to the Aid Society,&rdquo; remarked the host. &ldquo;Don't y' all
+      wish it met ev'y day 'stid 'er jes' meetin' ev'y Monday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do,&rdquo; agreed Frances, &ldquo;you can have so much fun when our mamas go
+      to the Aid. My mama's gone too, so she left me with Brother and he's
+      writing a love letter to Ruth Shelton, so I slipped off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother has gone to the Aid, too,&rdquo; said Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama too,&rdquo; chimed in Jimmy, &ldquo;she goes to the Aid every Monday and to
+      card parties nearly all the time. She telled Sarah Jane to 'tend to me and
+      Sarah Jane's asleep. I hear her snoring. Ain't we glad there ain't no
+      grown folks to meddle? Can't we have fun?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What'll we play?&rdquo; asked Frances, who had deliberately stepped in a mud
+      puddle on the way, and splashed mud all over herself, &ldquo;let's make mud
+      pies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, we ain't a-going to make no mud pies,&rdquo; objected Jimmy. &ldquo;We can make
+      mud pies all time when grown folks 'r' looking at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le's's play sumpin' what we ain't never play, sence we 's born,&rdquo; put in
+      Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope grandmother won't miss me.&rdquo; said Lina, &ldquo;she 's reading a very
+      interesting book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's play Injun!&rdquo; yelled Jimmy; &ldquo;we ain't never play' Injun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This suggestion was received with howls of delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama's got a box of red stuff that she puts on her face when she goes
+      to the card parties. She never puts none on when she just goes to the Aid.
+      I can run home and get the box to make us red like Injuns,&rdquo; said Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mother has a box of paint, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't never see Aunt Minerva put no red stuff on her face,&rdquo; remarked
+      Billy, disappointedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Minerva, she don't never let the Major come to see her, nor go to no
+      card parties is the reason,&rdquo; explained the younger boy, &ldquo;she just goes to
+      the Aid where they ain't no men, and you don't hafter put no red on your
+      face at the Aid. We'll let you have some of our paint, Billy. My mama's
+      got 'bout a million diff'ent kinds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We got to have pipes,&rdquo; was Frances's next suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My papa's got 'bout a million pipes,&rdquo; boasted Jimmy, &ldquo;but he got 'em all
+      to the office, I spec'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father has a meerschaum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Minerva's 'bout the curiousest woman they is,&rdquo; said Jimmy; &ldquo;she
+      ain't got nothing a tall; she ain't got no paint and she ain't got no
+      pipe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway,&rdquo; said Lina,
+      &ldquo;but we must have feathers; all Indians wear feathers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll get my mama's duster,&rdquo; said Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me, too,&rdquo; chimed in Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss Minerva's
+      waning reputation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva's got a great, big buncher tu'key feathers an' I can git 'em
+      right now,&rdquo; and the little boy flew into the house and was back in a few
+      seconds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must have blankets, of course,&rdquo; said Lina, with the air of one whose
+      word is law; &ldquo;mother has a genuine Navajo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me,&rdquo; put in Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can use hatchets for tomahawks,&rdquo; continued the little girl. &ldquo;Come on,
+      Frances; let us go home and get our things and come back here to dress up.
+      Run, Jimmy, get your things! You, too, Billy!&rdquo; she commanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The children ran breathlessly to their homes nearby and collected the
+      different articles necessary to transform them into presentable Indians.
+      They soon returned, Jimmy dumping his load over the fence and tumbling
+      after; and the happy quartette sat down on the grass in Miss Minerva's
+      yard. First the paint boxes were opened and generously shared with Billy,
+      as with their handkerchiefs they spread thick layers of rouge over their
+      charming, bright, mischievous little faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The feather decoration was next in order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How we goin' to make these feathers stick?&rdquo; asked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the rescue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Jack
+      Robinson'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully holding
+      up a bottle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This muc'lage'll make 'em stick,&rdquo; he panted, almost out of breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lina assumed charge of the head-dresses. She took Billy first, rubbed the
+      mucilage well into his sunny curls, and filled his head full of his aunt's
+      turkey feathers, leaving them to stick out awkwardly in all directions and
+      at all angles. Jimmy and Frances, after robbing their mothers' dusters,
+      were similarly decorated, and last, Lina, herself, was tastefully arrayed
+      by the combined efforts of the other three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last all was in readiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy, regardless of consequences, had pinned his aunt's newest grey
+      blanket around him and was viewing, with satisfied admiration, its long
+      length trailing on the-grass behind him; Lina had her mother's treasured
+      Navajo blanket draped around her graceful little figure; Frances, after
+      pulling the covers off of several beds and finding nothing to suit her
+      fanciful taste, had snatched a gorgeous silk afghan from the leather couch
+      in the library. It was an expensive affair of intricate pattern, delicate
+      stitches; and beautiful embroidery with a purple velvet border and a
+      yellow satin lining. She had dragged one corner of it through the mud
+      puddle and torn a big rent in another place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy was glorious in a bright red blanket, carrying his little bow and
+      arrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to be the Injun chief,&rdquo; he boasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to be a Injun chief, too,&rdquo; parroted Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chief, nothing!&rdquo; he sneered, &ldquo;you all time trying to be a Injun chief.
+      You 'bout the pompousest little girl they is. You can't be a chief nohow;
+      you got to be a squash, Injun ladies 'r' name' squashes; me an' Billy's
+      the chiefs. I'm name' old Setting Bull, hi'self.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't be named 'Bull,' Jimmy,&rdquo; reproved Lina, &ldquo;it isn't genteel to
+      say 'bull' before people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am too,&rdquo; he contended. &ldquo;Setting Bull's the biggest chief they is
+      and I'm going to be name' him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am not going to play then,&rdquo; said Lina primly, &ldquo;my mother wants me
+      to be genteel, and 'bull' is not genteel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you what, Jimmy,&rdquo; proposed Frances, &ldquo;you be name' 'Setting Cow.
+      'Cow' is genteel 'cause folks milk 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I ain't going to be name' no cow, neither,&rdquo; retorted the little
+      Indian, &ldquo;you all time trying to 'suade somebody to be name' 'Setting
+      Cow'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He can't be name' a cow,&rdquo;&mdash;Billy now entered into the discussion&mdash;&ldquo;'cause
+      he ain't no girl. Why don' you be name' 'Settin' Steer'? Is 'steer'
+      genteel, Lina?&rdquo; he anxiously inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he can be named 'Sitting Steer',&rdquo; she granted. Jimmy agreeing to the
+      compromise, peace was once more restored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frances and Lina got to be the squashes,&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't 'squashes,' it is 'squaws,&rdquo;' corrected Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, 'tis squashes too,&rdquo; persisted Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause it's in the Bible and
+      Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she's 'bout the high-steppingest
+      'splainer they is. Me and Billy is the chiefs,&rdquo; he shouted, capering
+      around, &ldquo;and you and Frances is the squashes and got to have papooses
+      strop' to your back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bennie Dick can be a papoose,&rdquo; suggested Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not going to be a Injun squash if I got to have a nigger papoose
+      strapped to my back!&rdquo; cried an indignant Frances. &ldquo;You can strap him to
+      your own back, Billy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I ain't no squash,&rdquo; objected that little Indian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can have our dolls for papooses,&rdquo; said Lina, going to the swing where
+      the dolls had been left. Billy pulled a piece of string from his pocket
+      and the babies were safely strapped to their mothers' backs. With stately
+      tread, headed by Sitting Steer, the children marched back and forth across
+      the lawn in Indian file.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So absorbed were they in playing Indian that they forgot the flight of
+      time until their chief suddenly stopped, all his brave valor gone as he
+      pointed with trembling finger up the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That part of the Ladies' Aid Society which lived in West Covington was
+      bearing down upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yonder's our mamas and Miss Minerva,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;Now look what a mess
+      Billy's done got us in; he all time got to perpose someping to get
+      chillens in trouble and he all time got to let grown folks ketch em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren't you ashamed to tell such a story, Jimmy Garner?&rdquo; cried Frances.
+      &ldquo;Billy didn't propose any such thing. Come on, let's run,&rdquo; she suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tain't no use to run,&rdquo; advised Jimmy. &ldquo;They're too close and done
+      already see us. We boun' to get what's coming to us anyway, so you might
+      jus' as well make 'em think you ain't 'fraid of 'em. Grown folks got to
+      all time think little boys and girls 'r' skeered of 'em, anyhow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva'll sho' put me to bed this time,&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;Look like
+      ev'y day I gotter go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother will make me study the catechism all day to-morrow,&rdquo; said Lina
+      dismally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mama'll lock me up in the little closet under the stairway,&rdquo; said
+      Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama'll gimme 'bout a million licks and try to take all the hide off
+      o' me,&rdquo; said Jimmy; &ldquo;but we done had a heap of fun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was some hours later. Billy's aunt had ruthlessly clipped the turkey
+      feathers from his head, taking the hair off in great patches. She had then
+      boiled his scalp, so the little boy thought, in her efforts to remove the
+      mucilage. Now, shorn of his locks and of some of his courage, the child
+      was sitting quietly by her side, listening to a superior moral lecture and
+      indulging in a compulsory heart-to-heart talk with his relative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see that it does you any good, William, to put you to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' see as it do neither,&rdquo; agreed Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can not whip you; I am constitutionally opposed to corporal punishment
+      for children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I's 'posed to it too,&rdquo; he assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe I will hire a servant, so that I may devote my entire time to
+      your training.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This prospect for the future did not appeal to her nephew. On the contrary
+      it filled him with alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A husban' 'd be another sight handier,&rdquo; he declared with energy; &ldquo;he 'd
+      be a heap mo' 'count to you 'n a cook, Aunt Minerva. There's that Major&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will never make a preacher of yourself, William, unless you improve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child looked up at her in astonishment; this was the first he knew of
+      his being destined for the ministry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A preacher what 'zorts an' calls up mourners?&rdquo; he said,&mdash;&ldquo;not on yo'
+      tin-type. Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How many times have I expressed the wish not to have you bring that
+      negro's name into the conversation?&rdquo; she impatiently interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' perzactly know, 'm,&rdquo; he answered good humoredly, &ldquo;'bout fifty
+      hunerd, I reckon. Anyways, Aunt Minerva, I ain't goin' to be no preacher.
+      When I puts on long pants I's goin' to be a Confedrit Vet'run an' kill
+      'bout fifty hunderd Yankees an' Injuns, like my Major man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                     NOW RIDDLE ME THIS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The children were sitting in the swing. Florence Hammer, a little girl
+      whose mother was spending the day at Miss Minerva's, was with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you-all wish Santa Claus had his birthday right now 'stead 'o
+      waiting till Christmas to hang up our stockings?&rdquo; asked Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christmas isn't Santa Claus' birthday,&rdquo; corrected Lina. &ldquo;God was born on
+      Christmas and that's the reason we hang up our stockings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; it is old Santa's birthday, too,&rdquo; argued Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause it's in the
+      Bible and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she 'bout the dandiest
+      'splainer they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which you-all like the best: God or Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus?&rdquo; asked
+      Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like God 'nother sight better 'n I do anybody,&rdquo; declared Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause
+      He so forgivingsome. He's 'bout the forgivingest person they is. Santa
+      Claus can't let you go to Heaven nor Doctor Sanford neither, nor our papas
+      and mamas nor Miss Minerva. Now wouldn't we be in a pretty fix if we had
+      to 'pend on Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus to forgive you every time you
+      run off or fall down and bust your breeches. Naw; gimme God evy time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like Santa Claus the best,&rdquo; declared Frances, &ldquo;'cause he isn't f'rever
+      getting in your way, and hasn't any castor oil like Doctor Sanford, and
+      you don't f'rever have to be telling him you're sorry you did what you
+      did, and he hasn't all time got one eye on you either, like God, and got
+      to follow you 'round. And Santa Claus don't all time say, Shet your eyes
+      and open your mouth,' like Doctor Sanford, 'and poke out your tongue.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like Doctor Sanford the best,&rdquo; said Florence, &ldquo;'cause he 's my uncle,
+      and God and Santa Claus ain't kin to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Bible say, 'Love your kin-folks,' Miss Cecilia 'splained&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I use to like my Uncle Doc' heap better 'n what I do now,&rdquo; went on the
+      little girl, heedless of Jimmy's interruption, &ldquo;till I went with daddy to
+      his office one day. And what you reckon that man's got in his office? He's
+      got a dead man 'thout no meat nor clo'es on, nothing a tall but just his
+      bones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he a hant?&rdquo; asked Billy. &ldquo;I like the Major best&mdash;he 's got meat
+      on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; he didn't have no sheet on&mdash;just bones,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No sheet on; no meat on!&rdquo; chirruped Billy, glad of the rhyme.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he a angel, Florence?&rdquo; questioned Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; he didn't have no harp and no wings neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must have been a skeleton,&rdquo; explained Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Uncle Doc' just keeps that poor man there and won't let him go to
+      Heaven where dead folks b'longs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I spec' he wasn't a good man 'fore he died and got to go to the Bad
+      Place,&rdquo; suggested Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll betcher he never asked God to forgive him when he 'ceived his papa
+      and sassed his mama,&rdquo;&mdash;this from Jimmy, &ldquo;and Doctor Sanford's just
+      a-keeping old Satan from getting him to toast on a pitchfork.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope they'll have a Christmas tree at Sunday-School next Christmas,&rdquo;
+       said Frances, harking back, &ldquo;and I hope I'll get a heap o' things like I
+      did last Christmas. Poor little Tommy Knott he's so skeered he wasn't
+      going to get nothing at all on the tree so he got him a great, big, red
+      apple an' he wrote on a piece o' paper 'From Tommy Knott to Tommy Knott,'
+      and tied it to the apple and put it on the tree for hi'self.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's ask riddles,&rdquo; suggested Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; shouted Frances, &ldquo;I'm going to ask the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; you ain't neither,&rdquo; objected Jimmy. &ldquo;You all time got to ask the
+      first riddle. I'm going to ask the first one&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'Round as a biscuit, busy as a bee,
+      Prettiest little thing you ever did see?'&mdash;
+                                      'A watch.'
+
+    &ldquo;Humpty Dumpty set on a wall,
+     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
+     All the king's horses and all the king's men
+     Can't put Humpty Dumpty back again.'
+                                      'A egg.'
+
+    &ldquo;'Round as a ring, deep as a cup,
+      All the king's horses can't pull it up.'
+                                      'A well.'
+
+    &ldquo;'House full, yard full, can't ketch&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, Jimmy!&rdquo; cried Lina, in disgust. &ldquo;You don't know how to ask riddles.
+      You must n't give the answers, too. Ask one riddle at a time and let some
+      one else answer it. I'll ask one and see who can answer it:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'As I was going through a field of wheat
+      I picked up something good to eat,
+     'Twas neither fish nor flesh nor bone,
+      I kept it till it ran alone?'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A snake! A snake!&rdquo; guessed Florence. &ldquo;That's a easy riddle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Snake, nothing!&rdquo; scoffed Jimmy, &ldquo;you can't eat a snake. 'Sides Lina
+      wouldn't 'a' picked up a snake. Is it a little baby rabbit, Lina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was neither fish nor flesh nor bone,&rdquo; she declared; &ldquo;and a rabbit is
+      flesh and bone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it's boun' to be a apple,&rdquo; was Jimmy's next guess; &ldquo;that ain't no
+      flesh and blood and it's good to eat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An apple can't run alone,&rdquo; she triumphantly answered. &ldquo;Give it up? Well,
+      it was an egg and it hatched to a chicken. Now, Florence, you ask one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;S'pose a man was locked up in a house,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;how'd he get out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Clam' outer a winder,&rdquo; guessed Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twa'n't no winder to the house,&rdquo; she declared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Crawled out th'oo the chim'ly, like Santa Claus,&rdquo; was Billy's next guess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twa'n't no chim'ly to it. Give it up? Give it up?&rdquo; the little girl
+      laughed gleefully. &ldquo;Well, he just broke out with measles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Billy's time,&rdquo; said Lina, who seemed to be mistress of ceremonies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tabernicle learnt this here one at school; 'see, if y' all can guess it:
+      'Tabby had four kittens but Stillshee didn't have none 't all&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see no sense a tall in that,&rdquo; argued Jimmy, &ldquo;'thout some bad
+      little boys drownded 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tabby was a cat,&rdquo; explained the other boy, &ldquo;and she had four kittens; and
+      Stillshee was a little girl, and she didn't have no kittens 't all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's this,&rdquo; asked Jimmy: &ldquo;'A man rode'cross a bridge and Fido walked?
+      'Had a little dog name' Fido.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't ask that right, Jimmy,&rdquo; said Lina, &ldquo;you always get things
+      wrong. The riddle is, 'A man rode across a bridge and Yet he walked,' and
+      the answer is, 'He had a little dog named Yet who walked across the
+      bridge.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'd 'nother sight ruther have a little dog name' Fido,&rdquo; declared
+      Jimmy. &ldquo;A little dog name' Yet and a little girl name' Stillshee ain't got
+      no sense a tall to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should a hangman wear suspenders?&rdquo; asked Lina. &ldquo;I'll bet nobody can
+      answer that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To keep his breeches from falling off,&rdquo; triumphantly answered Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you goose, a hangman should wear suspenders so that he 'd always have
+      a gallows handy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                 IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The pulpit of the Methodist Church was
+      not occupied by its regular pastor, Brother Johnson. Instead, a traveling
+      minister, collecting funds for a church orphanage in Memphis, was the
+      speaker for the day. Miss Minerva rarely missed a service in her own
+      church. She was always on hand at the Love Feast and the Missionary Rally
+      and gave liberally of her means to every cause. She was sitting in her own
+      pew between Billy and Jimmy, Mr. and Mrs. Garner having remained at home.
+      Across the aisle from her sat Frances Black, between her father and
+      mother; two pews in front of her were Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, with Lina on
+      the outside next the aisle. The good Major was there, too; it was the only
+      place he could depend upon for seeing Miss Minerva.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The preacher, after an earnest and eloquent discourse from the text, &ldquo;He
+      will remember the fatherless,&rdquo; closed the big Bible with a bang calculated
+      to wake any who might be sleeping. He came down from the pulpit and stood
+      close to his hearers as he made his last pathetic appeal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My own heart,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;goes out to every orphan child, for in the
+      yellow fever epidemic of '78, when but two years old, I lost both father
+      and mother. If there are any little orphan children here to-day, I should
+      be glad if they would come up to the front and shake hands with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Miss Minerva always faithfully responded to every proposal made by a
+      preacher; it was a part of her religious conviction. At revivals she was
+      ever a shining, if solemn and austere, light. When a minister called for
+      all those who wanted to go to Heaven to rise, she was always the first one
+      on her feet. If he asked to see the raised hands of those who were members
+      of the church at the tender age of ten years, Miss Minerva's thin, long
+      arm gave a prompt response. Once when a celebrated evangelist was holding
+      a big protracted meeting under canvas in the town and had asked all those
+      who had read the book of Hezekiah in the Bible to stand up, Miss Minerva
+      on one side of the big tent and her devoted lover on the other side were
+      among the few who had risen to their feet. She had read the good book from
+      cover to cover from Genesis to Revelation over and over so she thought she
+      had read Hezekiah a score of times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So now, when the preacher called for little orphans to come forward, she
+      leaned down and whispered to her nephew, &ldquo;Go up to the front, William, and
+      shake hands with the nice kind preacher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wha' fer?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I don' want to go up there; ev'ybody here'll look
+      right at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are there no little orphans here?&rdquo; the minister was saying. &ldquo;I want to
+      shake the hand of any little child who has had the misfortune to lose its
+      parents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on, William,&rdquo; commanded his aunt. &ldquo;Go shake hands with the preacher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy again demurred but, Miss Minerva insisting, he obediently
+      slipped by her and by his chum. Walking gracefully and jauntily up the
+      aisle to the spot where the lecturer was standing by a broad table, he
+      held out his slim, little hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy looked at these proceedings of Billy's in astonishment, not
+      comprehending at all. He was rather indignant that the older boy had not
+      confided in him and invited his participation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Jimmy was not the one to sit calmly by and be ignored when there was
+      anything doing, so he slid awkwardly from the bench before Miss Minerva
+      knew what he was up to. Signaling Frances to follow, he swaggered
+      pompously behind Billy and he, too, held out a short, fat hand to the
+      minister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker smiled benignly down upon them; lifting them up in his arms he
+      stood the little boys upon the table. He thought the touching sight of
+      these innocent and tender little orphans would empty the pockets of the
+      audience. Billy turned red with embarrassment at his conspicuous position,
+      while Jimmy grinned happily at the amused congregation. Horrified Miss
+      Minerva half rose to her feet, but decided to remain where she was. She
+      was a timid woman and did not know what course she ought to pursue.
+      Besides, she had just caught the Major's smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how long have you been an orphan?&rdquo; the preacher was asking of Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born,&rdquo; sweetly responded the
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I 'bout the orphantest boy they is,&rdquo; volunteered Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frances, responding to the latter's invitation, had crawled over her
+      father's legs before he realized what was happening. She, too, went
+      sailing down the aisle, her stiff white dress standing straight up in the
+      back like a strutting gobbler's tail. She grabbed hold of the man's hand,
+      and was promptly lifted to the table beside the other &ldquo;orphans.&rdquo; Tears
+      stood in the good preacher's eyes as he turned to the tittering audience
+      and said in a pathetic voice, &ldquo;Think of it, my friends, this beautiful
+      little girl has no mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Mrs. Black! A hundred pairs of eyes sought her pew and focused
+      themselves upon the pretty young woman sitting there, red, angry, and
+      shamefaced. Mr. Black was visibly amused and could hardly keep from
+      laughing aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Frances passed by the Hamiltons' pew in her promenade down the aisle,
+      Mrs. Hamilton leaned across her husband and made an attempt to clutch
+      Lina; but she was too late; already that dignified little &ldquo;orphan&rdquo; was
+      gliding with stately, conscious tread to join the others. This was too
+      much for the audience. A few boys laughed out and for the first time the
+      preacher's suspicions were aroused. As he clasped Lina's slender, graceful
+      little hand he asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have no father or mother, little girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I have, too,&rdquo; she angrily retorted. &ldquo;My father and mother are
+      sitting right there,&rdquo; and she pointed a slim forefinger to her crimson,
+      embarrassed parents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                   JOB AND POLLIE BUMPUS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never have told a downright falsehood,&rdquo; said Lina. &ldquo;Mother taught me
+      how wicked it is to tell stories. Did you ever tell a fib to your mother,
+      Frances?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tain't no use to try to 'ceive my mama,&rdquo; was the reply of the other
+      little girl; &ldquo;she's got such gimlet eyes and ears she can tell with 'em
+      shut if you're fibbing. I gave up hope long ago, so I just go 'long and
+      tell her the plain gospel truth when she asks me, 'cause I know those
+      gimlet eyes and ears of hers 're going to worm it out o' me somehow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grown folks pin you down so close sometimes,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;you bound to
+      'varicate a little; and I always tell God I'm sorry. I tell my mama the
+      truth 'most all time 'cepting when she asks questions 'bout things ain't
+      none of her business a tall, and she all time want to know 'Who done it?'
+      and if I let on it's me, I know she'll wear out all the slippers and
+      hair-brushes they is paddling my canoe, 'sides switches, so I jus' say 'I
+      do' know, 'm'&mdash;which all time ain't perzactly the truth. You ever
+      tell Miss Minerva stories, Billy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Cindy always say, 't wa'n't no harm 't all to beat 'bout the bush
+      an' try to th'ow folks offer the track 'long as you can, but if it come to
+      the point where you got to tell a out-an'-out fib, she say for me always
+      to tell the truth, an' I jest nachelly do like she say ever sence I's
+      born,&rdquo; replied Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The children swung awhile in silence. Presently Jimmy broke the quiet by
+      remarking,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you all feel sorry for old Miss Pollie Bumpus? She live all by
+      herself, and she 'bout a million years old, and Doctor Sanford ain't never
+      brung her no chillens 'cause she ain't got 'er no husban' to be their
+      papa, and she got a octopus in her head, and she poor as a post and deaf
+      as job's old turkey-hen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Job's old turkey-hen wasn't deaf,&rdquo; retorted Lina primly; &ldquo;she was very,
+      very poor and thin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was deaf, too,&rdquo; insisted Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause it's in the Bible. I know all
+      'bout job,&rdquo; bragged he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know all 'bout job, too,&rdquo; chirped Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Job, nothing!&rdquo; said Jimmy, with a sneer; &ldquo;you all time talking 'bout you
+      know all 'bout job; you 'bout the womanishest little girl they is. Now I
+      know job 'cause Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout him to me. He's in the
+      Bible and he sold his birthmark for a mess of potatoes and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never can get anything right, Jimmy,&rdquo; interrupted Lina; &ldquo;that was
+      Esau and it was not his birthmark, it was his birthstone; and he sold his
+      birthstone for a mess of potash.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yas,&rdquo; agreed Frances; &ldquo;he saw Esau kissing Kate and Esau had to sell him
+      his birthstone to keep his mouth shut.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother read me all about job,&rdquo; continued Lina; &ldquo;he was afflicted with
+      boils and his wife knit him a job's comforter to wrap around him, and he&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he sat under a 'tato vine;&rdquo; put in Frances eagerly, &ldquo;what God grew to
+      keep the sun off o' his boils and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was Jonah,&rdquo; said Lina, &ldquo;and it wasn't a potato vine; it was&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, 't wasn't Jonah neither; Jonah is inside of a whale's bel&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frances!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stommick,&rdquo; Frances corrected herself, &ldquo;and a whale swallow him, and how's
+      he going to sit under a pumpkin vine when he's inside of a whale?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not a pumpkin vine, it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting under a
+      morning-glory vine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The whale vomicked him up,&rdquo; said Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in Miss Pollie
+      Bumpus's head?&rdquo; asked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tain't a octopus, it's a polypus,&rdquo; explained Frances, &ldquo;'cause she's
+      named Miss Pollie. It's a someping that grows in your nose and has to be
+      named what you's named. She's named Miss Pollie and she's got a polypus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm mighty glad my mama ain't got no Eva-pus in her head,&rdquo; was Jimmy's
+      comment. &ldquo;Ain't you glad, Billy, your Aunt Minerva ain't got no Miss
+      Minervapus?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sho' is,&rdquo; fervently replied Miss Minerva's nephew; &ldquo;she's hard 'nough
+      to manage now like she is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm awful good to Miss Pollie,&rdquo; said Frances. &ldquo;I take her someping good
+      to eat 'most every day. I took her two pieces of pie this morning; I ate
+      up one piece on the way and she gimme the other piece when I got there. I
+      jus' don't believe she could get 'long at all 'thout me to carry her the
+      good things to eat that my mama sends her; I takes her pies all the time,
+      she says they're the best smelling pies ever she smelt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You 'bout the piggiest girl they is,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;all time got to eat up
+      a poor old woman's pies. You'll have a Frances-pus in your stomach first
+      thing you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's got a horn that you talk th'oo,&rdquo; continued the little girl,
+      serenely contemptuous of Jimmy's adverse criticism, &ldquo;and 'fore I knew how
+      you talk into it, she says to me one day, 'How's your ma?' and stuck that
+      old horn at me; so I put it to my ear, too, and there we set; she got one
+      end of the horn to her ear and I got the other end to my ear; so when I
+      saw this wasn't going to work I took it and blew into it; you-all 'd died
+      a-laughing to see the way I did. But now I can talk th'oo it 's good's
+      anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is an ear trumpet, Frances,&rdquo; said Lina, &ldquo;it is not a horn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le's play 'Hide the Switch,'&rdquo; suggested Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to hide it first,&rdquo; cried Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, you ain't,&rdquo; objected Jimmy, &ldquo;you all time got to hide the switch
+      first. I'm going to hide it first myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm going to say 'William Com Trimbleton,'&rdquo; said Frances, &ldquo;and see
+      who's going to hide it first. Now you-all spraddle out your fingers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                     Mr. ALGERNON JONES
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Again was it Monday, with the Ladies Aid Society in session. Jimmy was
+      sitting on the grass in his own front yard, in full view of Sarah Jane,
+      who was ironing clothes in her cabin with strict orders to keep him at
+      home. Billy was in the swing in Miss Minerva's yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on over,&rdquo; he invited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't,&rdquo; was the reply across the fence, &ldquo;I'm so good now I 'bout got
+      'ligion; I reckon I'm going to be a mish'nary or a pol'tician, one or t'
+      other when I'm a grownup man 'cause I'm so good; I ain't got but five
+      whippings this week. I been good ever since I let you 'suade me to play
+      Injun. I'm the goodest little boy in this town, I 'spec'. Sometimes I get
+      scared 'bout being so good 'cause I hear a woman say if you too good, you
+      going to die or you ain't got no sense, one. You come on over here; you
+      ain't trying to be good like what I'm trying, and Miss Minerva don't never
+      do nothing a tall to you 'cepting put you to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd ruther to git whipped fifty hunderd times 'n to hafter go to bed in
+      the daytime with Aunt Minerva lookin' at you. An' her specs can see right
+      th'oo you plumb to the bone. Naw, I can't come over there 'cause she made
+      me promise not to. I ain't never go back on my word yit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope mama won't never ask me to promise her nothing a tall, 'cause I'm
+      mighty curious 'bout forgetting. I 'spec' I'm the most forgettingest
+      little boy they is. But I'm so glad I'm so good. I ain't never going to be
+      bad no more; so you might just as well quit begging me to come over and
+      swing, you need n't ask me no more,&mdash;'tain't no use a tall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't a-begging you,&rdquo; cried Billy contemptuously, &ldquo;you can set on yo'
+      mammy's grass where you is, an' be good from now tell Jedgement Day an'
+      'twon't make no change in my business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't going to be 'ticed into no meanness, 'cause I'm so good,&rdquo;
+       continued the reformed one, after a short silence during which he had seen
+      Sarah Jane turn her back to him, &ldquo;but I don't b'lieve it'll be no harm
+      jus' to come over and set in the swing with you; maybe I can 'fluence you
+      to be good like me and keep you from 'ticing little boys into mischief. I
+      think I'll just come over and set a while and help you to be good,&rdquo; and he
+      started to the fence. Sarah Jane turned around in time to frustrate his
+      plans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You git right back, Jimmy,&rdquo; she yelled, &ldquo;you git erway f'om dat-ar fence
+      an' quit confabbin' wid datar Willyum. Fixin' to make some mo' Injuns out
+      o' yo'selfs, ain't yeh, or some yuther kin' o' skeercrows?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy strolled to the other side of the big yard and climbed up and sat on
+      the tall gate post. A stranger, coming from the opposite direction,
+      stopped and spoke to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Mr. John Smith live here?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, sir,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;don't no Mr. 'tall live here; jest me an' Aunt
+      Minerva, an' she turns up her nose at anything that wears pants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?&rdquo; the stranger's grin was
+      ingratiating and agreeable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, this here's Monday,&rdquo; the little boy exclaimed. &ldquo;Of course she's at
+      the Aid; all the 'omans roun' here goes to the Aid on Monday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your aunt is an old friend of mine,&rdquo; went on the man, &ldquo;and I knew she was
+      at the Aid. I just wanted to find out if you'd tell the truth about her.
+      Some little boys tell stories, but I am glad to find out you are so
+      truthful. My name is Mr. Algernon Jones and I'm glad to know you. Shake!
+      Put it there, partner,&rdquo; and the fascinating stranger held out a grimy paw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy smiled down from his perch at him and thought he had never met such
+      a pleasant man. If he was such an old friend of his aunt's maybe she would
+      not object to him because he wore pants, he thought. Maybe she might be
+      persuaded to take Mr. Jones for a husband. Billy almost hoped that she
+      would hurry home from the Aid, he wanted to see the two together so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is you much of a cusser?&rdquo; he asked solemnly, &ldquo;'cause if you is you'll
+      hafter cut it out on these premises.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Jones seemed much surprised and hurt at the question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An oath never passed these lips,&rdquo; replied the truthful gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you churn?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Churn&mdash;churn?&rdquo; with a reminiscent smile, &ldquo;I can churn like a top.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy was dying of curiosity but the gate was too far away for him to do
+      more than catch a word now and then. It was also out of Sarah Jane's
+      visual line, so she knew nothing of the stranger's advent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you're here all by yourself?&rdquo; insinuated Billy's new friend. &ldquo;And the
+      folks next door, where are they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Garner's at the Aid an' Mr. Garner's gone to Memphis. That is they
+      little boy a-settin' in they yard on they grass,&rdquo; answered the child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've come to fix your Aunt Minerva's water pipe,&rdquo; said truth-loving Mr.
+      Jones. &ldquo;Come, show me the way; I'm the plumber.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the bath-room?&rdquo; asked the child. &ldquo;I did n' know it needed no fixin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He led the agreeable plumber through the hall, down the long back-porch to
+      the bathroom, remarking &ldquo;I'll jes' watch you work.&rdquo; And he seated himself
+      in the only chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here is where Billy received one of the greatest surprises of his life.
+      The fascinating stranger grabbed him with a rough hand and hissed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you dare open your mouth or I'll crack your head open and scatter
+      your brains. I'll eat you alive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The fierce, bloodshot eyes, which had seemed so laughing and merry before,
+      now glared into those of the little boy as the man took a stout cord from
+      his pocket, bound Billy to the chair, and gagged him with a large bath
+      towel. Energetic Mr. Jones took the key out of the door, shook his fist at
+      the child, went out, and locked the door behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy, seeing no hope of eluding Sarah Jane's vigilance, resorted to
+      strategy and deceit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tain't no fun setting out here,&rdquo; he called to her, &ldquo;so I 'm going in the
+      house and take a nap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She willingly consented, as she was through with her ironing and thought
+      to snatch a few winks of sleep herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy slipped quietly through the house, noiselessly across the
+      back-yard and into his father's big garden, which was separated from that
+      of his neighbor by a high board-fence. He quickly climbed the fence, flew
+      across Miss Minerva's tomato patch and tiptoed up her back steps to the
+      back porch, his little bare feet giving no sign of his presence. Hearing
+      curious noises coming from the bad-room, where Billy was bumping the chair
+      up and down in his efforts to release his mouth, he made for that spot,
+      promptly unlocked the door, and walked in. Billy by scuffling and tugging
+      had freed his mouth from the towel that bound it at that moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; he whispered as Jimmy opened the door, &ldquo;you'll get eat up alive if
+      you don't look out.&rdquo; His tone was so mysterious and thrilling and he
+      looked so scared tied to the chair that the younger boy's blood almost
+      froze in his veins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you doing all tied up so?&rdquo; he asked in low, frightened tones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Algernon Jones done it. I spec' he's a robber an' is jes' a-robberin'
+      right now,&rdquo; answered Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll untie you,&rdquo; said his chum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; you better not,&rdquo; said Billy bravely. &ldquo;He might git away. You leave
+      me jes' like he fixed me so's you can try to ketch him. I hear him in the
+      dinin'-room now. You leave me right here an' step over to yo' house an'
+      'phone to some mens to come and git him quick. Shet the do' ag'in an'
+      don't make no noise. Fly, now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Jimmy did fly. He again took the garden route and in a minute was at
+      the telephone with the receiver at his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me,&rdquo; he howled into the
+      transmitter. &ldquo;Gimme Miss Minerva's beau. I don't know his number, but he's
+      got a office over my papa's bank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His father being out of town, the little boy shrewdly decided that Miss
+      Minerva's beau was the next best man to help capture the robber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Minerva what lives by me,&rdquo; he shrieked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately Central recognized his childish voice and was willing to humor
+      him, so as she too knew Miss Minerva's beau. The connection was quickly
+      made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello! Is that you, Major? This is me. If you don't want Mr. Algernon
+      Jones to be robbering everything Miss Minerva's got you better get a move
+      on and come right this minute. You got to hustle and bring 'bout a million
+      pistols and guns and swords and tomahawks and all the mans you can find
+      and dogs. He's the fiercest robber ever was, and he's already done tie
+      Billy to a bath-room chair and done eat up 'bout a million cold biscuits,
+      I spec'. All of us is 'bout to be slewed. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The plump, round gentleman at the other end of the wire heard this amazing
+      message in the utmost confusion and consternation. He frantically rang the
+      telephone again and again but could get no answer from the Garners' home
+      so he put on his hat and walked the short distance to Miss Minerva's
+      house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy was waiting to receive him at the front gate, having again eluded
+      Sarah Jane's vigilance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; he whispered mysteriously, &ldquo;he's in the dining-room. Ain't you
+      bringed nobody else? Get your pistol and come on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Algernon Jones, feeling safe and secure for the next hour and having
+      partaken of a light lunch, was in the act of transferring some silver
+      spoons from the sideboard to his pockets when a noise at the dining-room
+      door caused him to look in that direction. With an oath he sprang forward,
+      and landed his fist upon the nose of a plump gentleman standing there,
+      bringing a stream of blood and sending him sprawling to the floor. Mr.
+      Jones overturned a big-eyed little boy who was in his way and, walking
+      rapidly in the direction of the railroad, the erstwhile plumber was seen
+      no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy quickly recovered himself and sprang to his feet. Seeing the blood
+      streaming down the white shirt front of Miss Minerva's unconscious beau,
+      he gathered his wits together and took the thread of events again into his
+      own little hands. He flung himself over the fence, careless of Sarah Jane
+      this time, mounted a chair and once more rang the telephone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me some more. Gimme Doctor
+      Sanford's office, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello! Is that you, Doctor? This is me. Mr. Algernon Jones done kilt Miss
+      Minerva's beau. He's on her back-porch bloody all over. He's 'bout the
+      deadest man they is. You 'd better come toreckly you can and bring the
+      hearse, and a coffin and a clean shirt and a tombstone. He's wounded me
+      but I ain't dead yet. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Doctor Sanford received Jimmy's crazy message in astonishment. He, too,
+      rang the telephone again and again but could hear nothing more, so he
+      walked down to Miss Minerva's house and rang the door-bell. Jimmy opened
+      the door and led the way to the back-porch, where the injured man, who had
+      just recovered consciousness, was sitting limply in a chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does all this mean? Are you hurt?&rdquo; asked the Doctor as he examined
+      Mr. Jones's victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I think I'm all right now,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;but that scoundrel
+      certainly gave me a severe blow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy, shut up in the bath-room and listening to all the noise and
+      confusion, had been scared nearly out of his senses. He had kept as still
+      as a mouse till now, when, thinking he heard friendly voices he yelled
+      out, &ldquo;Open the do' an' untie me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We done forgot Billy,&rdquo; said the little rescuer, as he ran to the
+      bath-room door and opened it. He was followed by the Doctor, who cut the
+      cords that bound the prisoner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, William,&rdquo; commanded Doctor Sanford as they grouped themselves around
+      the stout, plump gentleman in the chair, &ldquo;begin at the beginning, and let
+      us get at the bottom of this affair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Algernon Jones he come to the gate,&rdquo; explained the little boy, &ldquo;an'
+      he say he goin' to fix the water pipe an' he say he's a plumber. He's a
+      very 'greeable man, but I don't want Aunt Minerva to marry him, now. I was
+      plumb tickled at him an' I tuck him to the bath-room an' fust thing I
+      knowed he grabbed holter me an' shuck me like what you see a cat do a
+      mouse, an' he say&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he'd more 'n a million whiskers,&rdquo; interrupted Jimmy, who thought
+      Billy was receiving too much attention, &ldquo;and he&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One at a time,&rdquo; said the Doctor. &ldquo;Proceed, William.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' he say he'll bust my brains outer my head if I holler, an' I ain't
+      a-goin' to holler neither, an' he tie me to a chair an' tie my mouth up
+      an' lock the do'&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I comed over,&rdquo; said Jimmy eagerly, &ldquo;and I run home and I see Mr.
+      Algernon Jones is a robber and I 'phoned to Miss Minerva's beau, and if
+      he'd brunged what I telled him, he wouldn't never got cracked in the face
+      like Mr. Algernon Jones done crack him, and Billy got to all time let
+      robbers in the house so they can knock mans and little boys down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away,&rdquo; said the
+      injured man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so,&rdquo; agreed Doctor Sanford, &ldquo;so I'll go and find the Sheriff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway, and she grabbed
+      Jimmy by the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yaas,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh 'ceitful
+      caterpillar. Come on home dis minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme go, Sarah Jane,&rdquo; protested the little boy, trying to jerk away from
+      her, &ldquo;I got to stay here and pertec' Billy and Miss Minerva's beau 'cause
+      they's a robber might come back and tie 'em up and make 'em bleed if I
+      ain't here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did Mr. Algernon Jones make all that blood?&rdquo; asked an awe-stricken little
+      boy gazing in admiration at the victim of Mr. Jones's energy. &ldquo;You sho' is
+      a hero to stan' up an' let him knock you down like he done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; cried Jimmy, as the black woman dragged him kicking and struggling
+      through the hall, &ldquo;we's all heroes, but I bet I'm the heroest hero they
+      is, and I bet Miss Minerva's going to be mad 'bout you all spilling all
+      that blood on her nice clean floor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme see yo' big toe what was shot off by all them Yankees and Injuns
+      what you killed in the war,&rdquo; said Billy to Miss Minerva's beau.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Major smiled at the little boy; a man-to-man smile, full of good
+      comradeship, humor, and understanding. Billy's little heart went out to
+      him at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't take off my shoes at present,&rdquo; said the veteran. &ldquo;Well, I must be
+      going; I feel all right now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You couldn't never go 'thout yo' pants, could you?&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;'cause
+      Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises pants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man eyed him quizzically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no; I don't think I could,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;I don't think I'd look any
+      better in a Mother Hubbard or a kimono.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which you think is the fitteness name,&rdquo; asked he, &ldquo;Billy or William.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy, Billy,&rdquo; enthusiastically came the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like mens,&rdquo; said William Green Hill, &ldquo;I sho' wisht you could come and
+      live right here with me and Aunt Minerva.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish so, too,&rdquo; said the Major.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    BILLY, THE CREDULOUS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      After the advent and disappearance of the exciting Mr. Jones, Miss
+      Minerva, much to Billy's joy, had a telephone put in the house. He sat in
+      the hall the day it was put in waiting for it to ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy, coming up on the front porch and through the half-open door and
+      seeing him sitting there, rang the door bell just for a joke, ready to
+      burst into a laugh when the other little boy turned around and saw who it
+      was. Billy, however, in his eagerness mistook the ring for the telephone
+      bell and joyfully climbed up on the chair, which he had stationed in
+      readiness. He took down the receiver as he had seen Jimmy do in his home
+      and, without once seeing that little boy standing a few feet from him, he
+      yelled at the top of his lungs:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello! Who is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is Marie Yarbrough,&rdquo; replied Jimmy from the doorway, instantly
+      recognizing Billy's mistake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Marie Yarbrough was a little girl much admired by the two boys, as she had
+      a pony and cart of her very own. However, she lived in a different part of
+      the town and attended another Sunday-School, so they had no speaking
+      acquaintance with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I jus' wanted to talk to you,&rdquo; went on the counterfeit Marie, stifling a
+      laugh and trying to talk like a girl. &ldquo;I think you're 'bout the sweetest
+      little boy they is and I want you to come to my party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sho' will,&rdquo; screamed the gratified Billy, &ldquo;if Aunt Minerva'll lemme.
+      What make you talk so much like Jimmy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who?&mdash;that little old Jimmy Garner? I hope I don't talk like that
+      chicken, he's 'bout the measliest boy they is and I like you 'nother sight
+      better 'n him; you're a plumb jim-dandy, Billy,&rdquo; came from the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So's you,&rdquo; howled back the delighted and flattered Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy thought he would pop wide open in his efforts to keep from laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How 'd you like to be my sweetheart?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I's already promise' to marry Miss Cecilia when I puts on long pants, but
+      if we ever gits a 'vorce I'd 'nother sight ruther have you 'n anybody. You
+      can be my ladyfrien', anyhow,&rdquo; was the loud reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm coming for you to go riding in my little pony and cart,&rdquo; said a
+      giggling Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, I's going to ask Aunt Minerva to lemme go. Can't we take Jimmy
+      too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too much for the little boy. He had held himself in as long as
+      possible. He burst into a peal of laughter so merry and so loud that
+      Billy, turning, quickly, almost fell out of the chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you doin', a-listening to me talk to Marie Yarbrough th'oo the
+      telephone?&rdquo; he questioned angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marie your pig's foot,&rdquo; was the inelegant response. &ldquo;That was just me
+      a-talking to you all the time. You all time think you talking to little
+      girls and all time 'tain't nobody but me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A light dawned upon the innocent one. He promptly hung up the receiver and
+      got down out of the chair. Before Jimmy was fully aware of his intention,
+      Billy had thrown him to the floor and was giving him a good pommeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say you got 'nough?&rdquo; he growled from ibis position astride of the other
+      boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got 'nough, Billy,&rdquo; repeated Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say you sorry you done it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say I sorry I done it,&rdquo; abjectly repeated the younger child. &ldquo;Get up,
+      Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart,&rdquo; was the
+      next command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say I ain't never going to tell nobody, cross my heart. Get up, Billy,
+      'fore you make me mad, and ain't no telling what I'll do to you if I get
+      mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't going to say I'm nothing of the kind,&rdquo; spiritedly replied the
+      under-dog. &ldquo;You all time wanting somebody to call theirselfs someping.
+      You're a low-down Isabella skunk yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You got to say it,&rdquo; insisted the victor, renewing hostilities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll say I'm a Isabella 'cause Isabella discovered America and's in the
+      Bible,&rdquo; replied the tormented one; &ldquo;Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy accepted his compromise and Jimmy's flattened stomach, relieved of
+      its burden, puffed out to its usual roundness as that little boy rose to
+      his feet, saying:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you
+      telephoning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He 'd better never hear tell of it,&rdquo; was the threatening rejoinder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    THE HUMBLE PETITION
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Billy, sitting in an old buggy in front of the livery stable, had just
+      engaged in a long and interesting conversation with Sam Lamb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was getting out of the vehicle when the sharp wire around a broken rod
+      caught in the back of his trousers and tore a great hole. He felt a
+      tingling pain and looked over his shoulder to investigate. Not being
+      satisfied with the result, he turned his back to the negro and anxiously
+      enquired, &ldquo;Is my breeches tore, Sam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dey am dat,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;dey am busted Fm Dan ter Beersheba.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I goin' to do 'bout it?&rdquo; asked the little boy, &ldquo;Aunt Minerva sho'
+      will be mad. These here's branspankin' new trousers what I ain't never
+      wore tell today. Ain't you got a needle an' thread so's you can fix 'em.
+      Sam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nary er needle,&rdquo; said Sam Lamb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is my union suit tore, too?&rdquo; and Billy again turned his back for
+      inspection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His friend made a close examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yo' unions is injured plum scanerous,&rdquo; was his discouraging decision,
+      &ldquo;and hit 'pears ter me dat yo' hide done suffer too; you's got er turrible
+      scratch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child sighed. The injury to the flesh was of small importance,&mdash;he
+      could hide that from his aunt&mdash;but the rent in his trousers was a
+      serious matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could git 'em mended 'fore I goes home,&rdquo; he said wistfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you what do,&rdquo; suggested Sam, &ldquo;I 'low Miss Cecilia'll holp yeh;
+      jest go by her house an' she'll darn 'em up fer yuh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you see, Sam, me an' Miss Cecilia's engaged an' we's fixin' to
+      marry jes' 's soon's I puts on long pants, an' I 'shame' to ask her. An' I
+      don't berlieve young 'omans patches the breeches of young mans what they's
+      goin' to marry nohow. Do you? Aunt Minerva ain' never patched no breeches
+      for the Major. And then,&rdquo; with a modest blush, &ldquo;my unions is tore too, an'
+      I ain't got on nothin' else to hide my skin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he turned his back to his friend and, his clouded little face
+      looking over his shoulder, he asked, &ldquo;Do my meat show, Sam?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She am visible ter the naked eye,&rdquo; and Sam Lamb laughed loudly at his own
+      wit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe God pays me much attention nohow,&rdquo; said the little boy
+      dolefully; &ldquo;ev'y day I gets put to bed 'cause sumpin's all time
+      a-happenin'. If He'd had a eye on me like He oughter they wouldn't a been
+      no snaggin'. Aunt Minerva's goin' to be mad th'oo an' th'oo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May be my of 'oman can fix 'em, so's dey won't be so turrible bad,&rdquo;
+       suggested the negro, &ldquo;'taint fer, so you jes' run down ter my cabin an'
+      tell Sukey I say fix dem breeches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child needed no second bidding,&mdash;he fairly flew. Sam's wife was
+      cooking, but she cheerfully stopped her work to help the little boy. She
+      sewed up his union suit and put a bright blue patch on his brown linen
+      breeches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy felt a little more cheerful, though he still dreaded confessing to
+      his aunt and he loitered along the way till it was nearly dark. Supper was
+      ready when he got home and he walked into the diningroom with his
+      customary ease and grace. But he took his seat uneasily, and he was so
+      quiet during the meal and ate so little that his aunt asked him if he were
+      sick. He was planning in his mind how to break the news of the day's
+      disaster to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are improving, William,&rdquo; she remarked presently, &ldquo;you haven't got
+      into any mischief to-day. You have been a mighty good little boy now for
+      two days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy flushed at the compliment and shifted uneasily in his seat. That
+      patch seemed to burn him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If God'd jest do His part,&rdquo; he said darkly, &ldquo;I wouldn't never git in no
+      meanness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After supper Miss Minerva washed the dishes in the kitchen sink and Billy
+      carried them back to the dining-room. His aunt caught him several times
+      prancing sideways in the most idiotic manner. He was making a valiant
+      effort to keep from exposing his rear elevation to her; once he had to
+      walk backward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she said sharply, &ldquo;you will break my plates. What is the matter
+      with you to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A little later they were sitting quietly in Miss Minerva's room. She was
+      reading &ldquo;The Christian at Home,&rdquo; and he was absently looking at a picture
+      book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sam Lamb's wife Sukey sho' is a beautiful patcher,&rdquo; he remarked, feeling
+      his way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She made no answering comment, and the discouraged little boy was silent
+      for a few minutes. He had worn Aunt Cindy's many-colored patches too often
+      to be ashamed of this one for himself, but he felt that he would like to
+      draw his aunt out and find how she stood on the subject of patches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; he presently asked, &ldquo;what sorter patches 'd you ruther
+      wear on yo' pants, blue patches or brown?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On my what?&rdquo; she asked, looking at him severely over her paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean if you's me,&rdquo; he hastily explained. &ldquo;Don't you think blue patches
+      is the mos' nat'ral lookin'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you driving at, William?&rdquo; she asked; but without waiting for his
+      answer she went on with her reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The child was silent for a long time, his little mind busy, then he began,
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She peered at him over her glasses a second, then dropped her eyes to the
+      paper where an interesting article on Foreign Missions held her attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva, I snagged&mdash;Aunt Minerva, I snagged my&mdash;my skin,
+      to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see the place,&rdquo; she said absently, her eyes glued to a paragraph
+      describing a cannibal feast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I's a-settin' on it right now,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another long silence ensued. Billy resolved to settle the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I's gettin' sleepy,&rdquo; he yawned. &ldquo;Aunt Minerva, I wants to say my prayers
+      and go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laid her paper down and he dropped to his knees by her side. He
+      usually sprawled all over her lap during his lengthy devotions, but
+      to-night he clasped his little hands and reared back like a rabbit on its
+      haunches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After he had rapidly repeated the Lord's prayer, which he had recently
+      learned, and had invoked blessings on all his new friends and
+      never-to-be-forgotten old ones, he concluded with:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An', O Lord, You done kep' me f'om meddlin' with Aunt Minerva's hose any
+      mo', an' you done kep' me f'om gittin' any mo' Easter eggs, an' playin'
+      any mo' Injun, an' You done kep' me f'om lettin' Mr. Algernon Jones come
+      ag'in, an' now, O Lord, please don't lemme worry the very 'zistence outer
+      Aunt Minerva any mo' 'n You can help, like she said I done this mornin,'
+      an' please, if Thy will be done, don't lemme tear the next new breeches
+      what she'll gimme like I done ruint thesehere what I got on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                     A GREEN-EYED BILLY
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have some candy?&rdquo; said Miss Cecilia, offering a big box of bonbons to
+      Billy, who was visiting her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where 'd you git 'em?&rdquo; he asked, as he helped himself generously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maurice sent them to me this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy put all his candy back into the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe I wants noner yo' candy,&rdquo; he said, scowling darkly. &ldquo;I
+      reckon you likes him better 'n me anyhow, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love you dearly,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The child stood in front of her and looked her squarely in the eye. His
+      little form was drawn to its full, proud height, his soft, fair cheeks
+      were flushed, his big, beautiful, grey eyes looked somber and sad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is you in love with that red-headed Maurice Richmond an' jes' a-foolin'
+      o' me?&rdquo; he asked with dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A bright flush dyed crimson the young lady's pretty face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her arm around the childish, graceful figure and drew the little
+      boy to the sofa beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, honey, you mustn't be silly,&rdquo; she said gently, &ldquo;you are my own,
+      dear, little sweetheart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' I reckon he's yo' own, dear, big sweetheart,&rdquo; said the jealous Billy.
+      &ldquo;Well, all I got to say is thishere; if he's a-goin' to come to see you
+      ev'y day then I ain't never comin' no mo'. He's been acarryin' on his
+      foolishness 'bout 's long as I can stand it. You got to chose 'tween us
+      right this minute; he come down here mos' ev'y day, he's tuck you drivin'
+      more'n fifty hundred times, an' he's give you all the candy you can
+      stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not the only one who comes to see me,&rdquo; she said smiling down at
+      him. &ldquo;Jimmy comes often and Len Hamner and Will Reid. Don't you want them
+      to come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't nobody pay no 'tention to Jimmy,&rdquo; he replied contemptuously; &ldquo;he
+      ain't nothin' but a baby, an' them other mens can come if you wants 'em
+      to; but,&rdquo; said Billy, with a lover's unerring intuition, &ldquo;I ain't a-goin'
+      to stand fer that long-legged, sorrel-top Maurice Richmond a-trottin' his
+      great big carkiss down here ev'y minute. I wish Aunt Minerva 'd let me put
+      on long pants to-morrer so 's we could git married.&rdquo; He caught sight of a
+      new ring sparkling on her finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who give you that ring?&rdquo; he asked sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little bird brought it to me,&rdquo; she said, trying to speak gayly, and
+      blushing again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A big, red-headed peckerwood,&rdquo; said Billy savagely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maurice loves you, too,&rdquo;&mdash;she hoped to conciliate him; &ldquo;he says you
+      are the brightest kid in town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kid,&rdquo; was the scornful echo, &ldquo;'cause he's so big and tall, he's got to
+      call me a kid. Well, he'd jes' awasting' hi'self lovin' me; I don't like
+      him an' I ain't agoin' to never like him an' soon's I puts on long pants
+      he's goin' to get 'bout the worses' lickin' he ever did see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, does you kiss him like you does me?&rdquo; he asked presently, looking up
+      at her with serious, unsmiling face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She hid her embarrassment in a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be foolish, Billy,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll bet he's kissed you more 'n fifty hunderd times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's Jimmy whistling for you,&rdquo; said Miss Cecilia. &ldquo;How do you two boys
+      make that peculiar whistle? I would recognize it anywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he ever kiss you yet?&rdquo; asked the child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard that you and Jimmy whipped Ed Brown because he imitated your own
+      particular whistle. Did you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How many times is he kiss you?&rdquo; asked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl put her arm around him and tried to nestle his little body
+      against her own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm too big, anyway, for your real sweetheart,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Why, by the
+      time you are large enough to marry I should be an old maid. You must have
+      Frances or Lina for your sweetheart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' let you have Maurice!&rdquo; he sneered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stooped to lay her flushed cheek against his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Honey,&rdquo; she softly said, &ldquo;Maurice and I are going to be married soon; I
+      love him very much and I want you to love him too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pushed her roughly from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' you jes' 'ceived me all the time,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;an' me a-lovin' you
+      better 'n anybody I ever see sence I's born? An' you a Sunday-School
+      teacher? I ain't never a-goin' to trus' nobody no mo'. Good-bye, Miss
+      Cecilia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She caught his hand and held it fast; &ldquo;I want you and Jimmy to be my
+      little pages at the wedding, and wear dear little white satin suits all
+      trimmed with gold braid,&rdquo; she tried to be enthusiastic and arouse his
+      interest; &ldquo;and Lina and Frances can be little flower-girls and we'll have
+      such a beautiful wedding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jimmy an' Lina an' Frances can be all the pages an' flower-girls an'
+      brides an' grooms they wants to, but you can't rope me in,&rdquo; he scornfully
+      replied. &ldquo;I's done with you an' I ain't never goin' to have me no mo'
+      sweetheart long's I live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                   CLOSER THAN A BROTHER
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      It was a bad, rainy day. Jimmy and Billy were playing in Sarah Jane's
+      cabin, she, however, being in happy ignorance of the fact. Her large
+      stays, worn to the preaching the night before, were hanging on the back of
+      a chair. &ldquo;Ain't I glad I don' have to wear no corset when I puts on long
+      pants?&rdquo; remarked Billy, pointing to the article. &ldquo;Ain't that a big one?
+      It's twice's big's Aunt Minerva's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama wears a big co'set, too,&rdquo; said Jimmy; &ldquo;I like fat womans 'nother
+      sight better 'n lean ones. Miss Minerva's 'bout the skinniest woman they
+      is; when I get married I'm going to pick me out the fattest wife I can
+      find, so when you set in her lap at night for her to rock you to sleep
+      you'll have a soft place to put your head, while she sings to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Major&mdash;he's mos' plump enough for two,&rdquo; said Billy, taking down
+      the stays and trying to hook them around him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sho' is big,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I berlieve it's big 'nough to go 'round both
+      of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le's see if 'tain't,&rdquo; was the other boy's ready suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood behind Billy and they put the stays around both little bodies,
+      while, with much squeezing and giggling, Billy hooked them safely up the
+      front. The boys got in front of Sarah Jane's one looking-glass and danced
+      about laughing with glee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're like the twinses what was growed together like mama read me 'bout,&rdquo;
+       declared the younger child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they began to feel uncomfortable, especially Jimmy, whose fat,
+      round little middle was tightly compressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, unhook this thing, Billy, and le's take her off,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'm
+      'bout to pop open.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; agreed his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He tugged and pulled, but could get only the top and bottom hooks
+      unclasped; the middle ones refused to budge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't get these-here hooks to come loose,&rdquo; Billy said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy put his short, fat arms around him and tried his hand, but with no
+      better success. The stays were such a snug fit that the hooks seemed
+      glued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We sho' is in a fix,&rdquo; said Billy gloomily; &ldquo;look like God all time
+      lettin' us git in trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think of more fool stunts to do, William Hill, than any boy they is,&rdquo;
+       cried the other; &ldquo;you all time want to get us hooked up in Sarah Jane's
+      corset and you all time can't get nobody loose. What you want to get us
+      hooked up in this thing for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You done it yo'self,&rdquo; defended the boy in front with rising passion.
+      &ldquo;Squeeze in, Jimmy; we jes' boun' to git outer this 'fore somebody finds
+      it out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He backed the other child close to the wall and pressed so hard against
+      him that Jimmy screamed aloud and began to pound him on the head with his
+      chubby fists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy would not submit tamely to any such treatment. He reached his hand
+      behind him and gave the smaller boy's cheek a merciless pinch. The fight
+      was on. The two little boys, laced up tightly as they were in a stout pair
+      of stays, pinched and scratched, and kicked and jerked. Suddenly Billy,
+      leaning heavily against Jimmy, threw him flat on his back and fell on top
+      of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bennie Dick, sitting on the floor, had up to this time watched the
+      proceedings with an interested eye; now, thinking murder was being
+      committed, he opened his big, red mouth and emitted a howl that could be
+      heard half a mile. It immediately brought his mother to the open door.
+      When she saw the children squirming on the floor in her only corset, her
+      indignation knew no bounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, Jimmy Garner, an' you, too, William Hill, yuh little imps o' Satan,
+      what you doin' in my house? didn't yo' mammy tell you not to tamper wid me
+      no mo'? Git up an' come here an' lemme git my co'set off o' yuh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Angry as she was she could not keep from laughing at the sight they
+      presented, as, with no gentle hand, she unclasped the hooks and released
+      their imprisoned bodies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy all time&mdash;&rdquo; began Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Billy all time nothin,&rdquo; said Sarah Jane, &ldquo;'tain't no use fo' to try to
+      lay dis-here co'set business onto Billy; both o' yuh is ekally in it. An'
+      me a-aimin' fo' to go to three fun'els dis week an' a baptizin' on Sunday.
+      S'pose y' all'd bruck one o' de splints, how'd I look a-presidin' at a
+      fun'el 'thout nare co'set on, an' me shape' like what I is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who's dead, Sarah Jane?&rdquo; asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the torrent of her
+      wrath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sis' Mary Ellen's las' husban', Brudder Littlejohn&mdash;dat 's a-who,&rdquo;
+       she replied, somewhat mollified at his interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did he die?&rdquo;&mdash;Jimmy pursued his advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He got 'way f'om here 'bout moon-down las' night,&rdquo; she replied, losing
+      sight of her grievance in his flattering interrogations. &ldquo;You know Sis'
+      Littlejohn, she been married goin' on five times. Dis-here'll make fo'
+      gentlemans she done buriet an' dey ain't nobody can manage a fun'el like
+      she kin; 'pears like hit jes' come natchel to her. She sho' is done a good
+      part by eb'ry single husban' too, an' she's figgerin' to outdo all the
+      yuthers wid Brudder Littlejohn's co'pse.&rdquo; Sarah Jane almost forgot her
+      little audience in her intense absorption of her subject. &ldquo;She say to me
+      dis mornin', she say, 'Marri'ge am a lott'ry, Sis Beddinfiel', but I sho'
+      is drawed some han'some prizes. 'She got 'em all laid out side by side in
+      de buryin' groun' wid er little imige on ebry grabe; an', 'Sis Mary Ellen,
+      seein' as she can't read de writin' on de tombstones, she got a diff'unt
+      little animal asettin' on eb'ry head res' so's she kin tell which husban'
+      am which. Her fus' husban' were all time ahuntin', so she got a little
+      white marble pa'tridge arestin' on he' head, an' hit am a mighty
+      consolement to a po' widda 'oman fo' to know dat she can tell de very
+      minute her eyes light on er grabe which husban' hit am. Her secon' man he
+      got er mighty kinky, woolly head an' he mighty meek, so she got a little
+      white lamb a-settin' on he grabe; an' de nex husban' he didn't have
+      nothin' much fo' to disgueese him f'om de res' 'cep'in' he so slow an' she
+      might nigh rack her brain off, twell she happen to think 'bout him bein' a
+      Hardshell Baptis' an' so powerful slow, so she jest got a little tarrapim
+      an' sot it on him. Hit sho' am a pretty sight jes' to go in dat buryin'
+      groun' an' look at 'em all, side by side; an' now she got Brudder
+      Littlejohn to add to de res'. He de onliest one what's got er patch o'
+      whiskers so she gwine to put a little white cat on he' grabe. Yes, Lord,
+      ef anythink could pearten' a widda 'oman hit would be jes' to know dat yuh
+      could go to de grabeyard any time yuh want to an' look at dat han'some
+      c'llection an' tell 'zactly which am which.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sarah Jane stopped for breath and Billy hastened to inquire,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who else is dead, Sarah Jane?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tain't nobody else dead, yit, as I knows on, but my two cousins is
+      turrible low; one's got a hemrage on de lung an' de yuther's got a
+      congestin' on de brain, an' I 'lows dey'll bofe drap off 'twix' now an'
+      sun-up to-morra.&rdquo; Her eyes rolled around and happened to light on her
+      corset. She at once returned to her grievance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' sposin' I hadn't 'av' came in here when I did? I'd 'a' had to went to
+      my own cousins' fun'el 'thout nare co'set. Y' all gotta go right to y'
+      all's mamas an' Miss Minerva dis very minute. I low dey'll settle yo'
+      hashes. Don't y' all know dat Larroes ketch meddlers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                     TWINS AND A SISSY
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Black were sitting on Miss Minerva's veranda
+      talking to her, and Lira and Frances were in the swing with Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The attraction proved too great for Jimmy; he impolitely left a
+      disconsolate little visitor sitting on his own porch while he jumped the
+      fence and joined the other children.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you all wish you could see Mrs. Brown's new twinses?&rdquo; was his
+      greeting as he took his seat by Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where'd she get 'em?&rdquo; asked Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor Sanford tooken 'em to her last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He muster found 'em in a holler stump,&rdquo; remarked Billy. &ldquo;I knows, 'cause
+      that's where Doctor Shacklefoot finds aller of Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's
+      Peruny Pearline's, an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been lookin' in evy
+      holler stump we see ever sence we's born, an' we ain't never foun' no baby
+      't all, 'cause can't nobody but jes' doctors fin' 'em. I wish he'd a-give
+      'em to Aunt Minerva 'stidder Mrs. Brown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish he'd bringed 'em to my mama,&rdquo; said Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I certainly do think he might have given them to us,&rdquo; declared Lina, &ldquo;and
+      I'm going to tell him so, too. As much money as father has paid him for
+      doctor's bills and as much old, mean medicine as I have taken just to
+      'commodate him; then he gives babies to everybody but us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm awful glad he never give 'em to my mama,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;'cause I never
+      could had no more fun; they'd be stuck right under my nose all time, and
+      all time put their mouth in everything you want to do, and all time
+      meddling. You can't fool me 'bout twinses. But I wish I could see 'em!
+      They so weakly they got to be hatched in a nincubator.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo; questioned Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a someping what you hatches chickens and babies in when they's
+      delicate, and ain't got 'nough breath and ain't got they eyes open and
+      ain't got no feathers on,&rdquo; explained Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Reckon we can see 'em?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See nothing!&rdquo; sniffed the little boy. &ldquo;Ever sence Billy let Mr. Algernon
+      Jones whack Miss Minerva's beau we can't do nothing at all 'thout grown
+      folks 'r' stuck right under your nose. I'm jes' cramped to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I'm a mama,&rdquo; mused Frances, &ldquo;I hope Doctor Sanford'll bring me three
+      little twinses, and two Maltese kittens, and a little Japanee, and a
+      monkey, and a parrit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I'm a papa,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;I don' want no babies at all, all they's
+      good for is jus' to set 'round and yell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look like God 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies,&rdquo; remarked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, God don' have none 'a the trouble,&rdquo; explained Jimmy. &ldquo;He's just got
+      Him a baby factory in Heaven like the chair factory and the canning
+      factory down by the railroad, and angels jus' all time make they arms and
+      legs, like niggers do at the chair factory, and all God got to do is jus'
+      glue 'em together, and stick in their souls. God's got 'bout the easiest
+      job they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought angels jes' clam' the golden stair and play they harps,&rdquo; said
+      Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia's wedding,&rdquo; said Frances,
+      after a short silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll betcher I'll be the cutest kid in that church,&rdquo; boasted Jimmy
+      conceitedly. &ldquo;You coming, ain't you, Billy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I gotter go,&rdquo; answered that jilted swain, gloomily, &ldquo;Aunt Minerva ain't
+      got nobody to leave me with at home. I jes' wish she'd git married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why wouldn't you be a page, Billy?&rdquo; asked Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Cause I didn't hafto,&rdquo; was the snappish reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bet my mama give her the finest present they is,&rdquo; bragged the smaller
+      boy; &ldquo;I reckon it cost 'bout a million dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother gave her a handsome cut-glass vase,&rdquo; said Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks like Doctor Sanford would've give Miss Cecilia those twinses for
+      a wedding present,&rdquo; said Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?&rdquo; asked Lina,
+      noticing for the first time a lonely-looking child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's Leon Tipton, Aunt Ella's little boy. He just come out from Memphis
+      to spend the day with me and I'll be awful glad when he goes home; he's
+      'bout the stuck-up-est kid they is, and skeery? He's 'bout the 'fraidest
+      young un ever you see. And look at him now? Wears long curls like a girl
+      and don't want to never get his clean clo'es dirty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he's a beautiful little boy,&rdquo; championed Lina. &ldquo;Call him over
+      here, Jimmy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I don't want to. You all'll like him a heap better over there; he's
+      one o' these-here kids what the furder you get 'way from 'em, the better
+      you like 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He sho' do look lonesome,&rdquo; said Billy; &ldquo;'vite him over, Jimmy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leon!&rdquo; screamed his cousin, &ldquo;you can come over here if you wantta.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lonesome-looking little boy promptly accepted the invitation, and came
+      primly through the two gates. He walked proudly to the swing and stood,
+      cap in hand, waiting for an introduction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why didn't you clam' the fence, 'stead of coming th'oo the gates?&rdquo;
+       growled Jimmy. &ldquo;You 'bout the prissiest boy they is. Well, why don't you
+      set down?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Introduce me, please,&rdquo; said the elegant little city boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Interduce your grandma's pussy cats,&rdquo; mocked Jimmy. &ldquo;Set down, I tell
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frances and Lina made room for him between them and soon gave him their
+      undivided attention, to the intense envy and disgust of the other two
+      little boys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Lina Hamilton,&rdquo; said the little girl on his right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'm Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to treat you like he
+      does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knows a turrible skeery tale,&rdquo; remarked a malicious Billy, looking at
+      Lina and Frances. &ldquo;If y' all wa'n't girls I 'd tell it to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We aren't any more scared 'n you, William Hill,&rdquo; cried Frances, her
+      interest at once aroused; &ldquo;I already know 'bout 'raw meat and bloody
+      bones' and nothing's scarier 'n that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I know 'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he
+      alive or be he dead, I'll ground his bones to make me bread,&rdquo;' said Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This-here tale,&rdquo; continued Billy, glueing his big eyes to those of the
+      little stranger, &ldquo;is one Tabernicle learnt fer a speech at school. It's
+      all 'bout a 'oman what was buriet in a graveyard with a diamant ring on
+      her finger, an' a robber come in the night&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child's tones were guttural, thrilling, and hair-raising as he glared
+      into the eyes of the effeminate Leon, &ldquo;an' a robber come in the night an'
+      try to cut it off, an' ha'nts was groanin' an' the win' moan 'oo-oo' an&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Leon could stand it no longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going right back,&rdquo; he cried rising with round, frightened eyes, &ldquo;I
+      am not going to sit here and listen to you, scaring little girls to death.
+      You are a bad boy to scare Lina and Frances and I am not going to
+      associate with you;&rdquo; and this champion of the fair sex stalked with
+      dignity across the yard to the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm no more scared 'n nothing,&rdquo; and indignant Frances hurled at his back,
+      &ldquo;you're just scared yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy giggled happily. &ldquo;What'd I tell you all,&rdquo; he cried, gleefully. &ldquo;Lina
+      and Frances got to all time set little 'fraid cats 'tween 'em,&rdquo; he
+      snorted. &ldquo;It's just like I tell you, he's the sissyest boy they is; and he
+      don't care who kiss him neither; he'll let any woman kiss him what wants
+      to. Can't no woman at all 'cepting my mama and Miss Cecilia kiss me. But
+      Leon is 'bout the kissingest kid they is; why, he'd just as soon's not let
+      Frances and Lina kiss him; he ain't got no better sense. 'Course I gotta
+      let Miss Cecilia kiss me 'cause she's 'bout the plumpest Sunday-School
+      teacher they is and the Bible say 'If your Sunday-School teacher kiss you
+      on one cheek turn the other cheek and let her kiss you on that, too,' and
+      I all time bound to do what the Bible say. You 'd better call him back,
+      Frances, and kiss him, you and Lina 're so stuck on him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't kiss him to save his life,&rdquo; declared Frances; &ldquo;he's got the
+      spindliest legs I ever saw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    RISING IN THE WORLD
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of paint upon
+      the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva's long back-porch. And he left his
+      ladder leaning against the house while he went inside to confer with her
+      in regard to some other work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy, Jimmy, Frances, and Lina had been playing &ldquo;Fox and Geese.&rdquo; Running
+      around the house they spied the ladder and saw no owner to deny them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le's clam' up and get on top the porch,&rdquo; suggested Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva'll put me to bed if I do,&rdquo; said Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother'll make me learn a whole page of the catechism if I climb a
+      ladder,&rdquo; said Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama'll shut me up in the closet, but our mamas aren't bound to know
+      'bout it,&rdquo;&mdash;this from Frances. &ldquo;Come on, let's climb up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't neverpromise not to clam' no ladder but&mdash;&rdquo; Billy hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You-all 'bout the skeeriest folks they is,&rdquo; sneered Jimmy. &ldquo;Mama'll whip
+      me going and coming if she finds out 'bout it, but I ain't skeered. I dare
+      anybody to dare me to clam' up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare you to climb this ladder,&rdquo; responded an accommodating Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't never tooken a dare yet,&rdquo; boasted the little boy proudly, his
+      foot on the bottom rung. &ldquo;Who's going to foller me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't we have fun?&rdquo; cried a jubilant Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Jimmy; &ldquo;if grown folks don't all time be watching you and
+      sticking theirselfs in your way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If people would let us alone,&rdquo; remarked Lina, &ldquo;we could enjoy ourselves
+      every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time,&rdquo; cried Jimmy,
+      &ldquo;they don't never want us to play together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy; and Lina
+      brought up the rear. The children ran the long length of the porch leaving
+      their footprints on the fresh, sticky paint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will it wash off?&rdquo; asked Frances, looking gloomily down at her feet,
+      which seemed to be encased in green moccasins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the roof. When the
+      others helped her to her feet, she was a sight to behold, her white dress
+      splotched with vivid green from top to bottom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that ain't jus' like you, Frances,&rdquo; Jimmy exclaimed; &ldquo;you all time got
+      to fall down and get paint on your dress so we can't 'ceive nobody. Now
+      our mamas bound to know 'bout us clamming up here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They would know it anyhow,&rdquo; mourned Lina; &ldquo;we'll never get this paint off
+      of our feet. We had better get right down and see if we can't wash some of
+      it off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they were talking the owner of the ladder, who had not noticed them&mdash;and
+      was deaf in the bargain&mdash;had quietly removed it from the back-porch
+      and carried it around to the front of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The children looked at each other in consternation when they perceived
+      their loss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What we goin' to do now?&rdquo; asked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If this ain't just like Billy, all time got to perpose to clam' a ladder
+      and all time got to let the ladder get loose from him,&rdquo; growled Jimmy. &ldquo;We
+      done cooked a goose egg, this time. You got us up here, Billy, how you
+      going to get us down?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't, neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it's Miss Minerva's house and she's your aunt and we's your company
+      and you got to be 'sponsible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can clam' down this-here post,&rdquo; said the responsible party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can climb down it, too,&rdquo; seconded Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't clam' down nothing at all,&rdquo; said Jimmy contemptuously. &ldquo;Talk
+      'bout you can clam' down a post; you'd fall and bust yourself wide open;
+      you 'bout the clumsiest girl there is; 'sides, your legs 're too fat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can holla,&rdquo; was Lina's suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have grown folks laughing fit to pop their sides open? I'm 'shame' to
+      go anywheres now 'cause folks all time telling me when I'm going to dye
+      some more Easter eggs! Naw, we better not holler,&rdquo; said Jimmy. &ldquo;Ain't you
+      going to do nothing, Billy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to bring his
+      ladder back. Y' all wait up here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they were soon
+      released from their elevated prison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might as well go home and be learning the catechism,&rdquo; groaned Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to get right in the closet soon's I get to my house,&rdquo; said
+      Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on and put on your night-shirt, Billy.&rdquo; Billy took himself to the
+      bath-room and scrubbed and scrubbed; but the paint refused to come off. He
+      tiptoed by the kitchen where his aunt was cooking dinner and ran into his
+      own room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found the shoes and stockings which were reserved for Sunday wear, and
+      soon had them upon his little feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva rang the dinner-bell and he walked quietly into the
+      dining-room trying to make as little noise and to attract as little
+      attention from his aunt as possible; but she fastened her eyes at once
+      upon his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing with your shoes on, William?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy glanced nonchalantly at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think, Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; he made answer, &ldquo;I's gittin' too big to
+      go 'thout any shoes? I's mos' ready to put on long pants, an' how'd I
+      look, I'd jest like to know, goin' roun' barefooted an' got on long
+      breeches. I don' believe I'll go barefooted no mo'&mdash;I'll jest wear my
+      shoes ev'y day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I just believe you won't. Go take them off at once and hurry back to your
+      dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme jest wait tell I eats,&rdquo; he begged, hoping to postpone the evil hour
+      of exposure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva spied the paint the instant he made his second entrance and
+      immediately inquired, &ldquo;How did you get that paint on your feet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at her with his
+      sweet, attractive, winning smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paint pertec's little boys' feets,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;an' keeps 'em f'om gittin'
+      hurted, Aunt Minerva, don't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her undivided
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William; now tell me
+      all about it. Are you afraid of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yas 'm,&rdquo; was his prompt response, &ldquo;an' I don't want to be put to bed
+      neither. The Major he wouldn't put little boys to bed day times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She blushed and eyed him thoughtfully. She was making slow progress with
+      the child, she knew, yet she still felt it her stern duty to be very
+      strict with him and, having laid down certain rules to rear him by, she
+      wished to adhere to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she said after he had made a full confession, &ldquo;I won't punish
+      you this time for I know that Jimmy led you into it but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw'm, Jimmy didn't. Me an' him an' Frances an' Lina's all 'sponsible,
+      but I promise you, Aunt Minerva, not to clam' no mo' ladders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                     PRETENDING REALITY
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The chain-gang had been working in the street not far from Miss Minerva's
+      house, and Lina, Frances, Billy and Jimmy had hung on her front fence for
+      an hour, watching them with eager interest. The negroes were chained
+      together in pairs, and guarded by two, big, burly white men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's us play chain-gang,&rdquo; suggested Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where we goin' to git a chain?&rdquo; queried Billy; &ldquo;'t won't be no fun 'thout
+      a lock an' chain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can get the lock and chain off 'm Sarah Jane's cabin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yo' mama don't 'low you to go to her cabin,&rdquo; said Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama don't care if I just borra a lock and chain; so I 'm going to get
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to be the perlice of the gang,&rdquo; said Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perlice nothing. You all time talking 'bout you going to be the perlice,&rdquo;
+       scoffed Jimmy. &ldquo;I'm going to be the perlice myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you are not,&rdquo; interposed Lina, firmly. &ldquo;Billy and I are the tallest
+      and we are going to be the guards, and you and Frances must be the
+      prisoners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I ain't going to play 'thout I can be the boss of the niggers. It's
+      Sarah Jane's chain and she's my mama's cook, and I'm going to be what I
+      please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you what do,&rdquo; was Billy's suggestion, &ldquo;we'll take it turn
+      about; me an' Lina'll firs' be the perlice an' y' all be the chain-gang,
+      an' then we'll be the niggers an' y' all be the bosses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This arrangement was satisfactory, so the younger boy climbed the fence
+      and soon returned with a short chain and padlock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy chained Jimmy and Frances together by two round, fat ankles and put
+      the key to the lock in his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must decide what crimes they have committed,&rdquo; said Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frances done got 'rested fer shootin' craps an' Jimmy done got 'rested
+      fer 'sturbin' public worship,&rdquo; said the other boss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I ain't neither,&rdquo; objected the male member of the chain-gang, &ldquo;I
+      done cut my woman with a razor 'cause I see her racking down the street
+      like a proud coon with another gent, like what Sarah Jane's brother telled
+      me he done at the picnic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The children played happily together for half an hour, Billy and Lina
+      commanding, and the prisoners, entering thoroughly into the spirit of the
+      game, according prompt obedience to their bosses. At last the captives
+      wearied of their role and clamored for an exchange of parts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; agreed Lina. &ldquo;Get the key, Billy, and we'll be the
+      chain-gang.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy put his right hand in his pocket but found no key there; he tried
+      the other pocket with the same success; he felt in his blouse, he looked
+      in his cap, he jumped up and down, he nearly shook himself to pieces all
+      without avail; the key had disappeared as if by magic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I berlieve y' all done los' that key,&rdquo; concluded he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe it dropped on the ground,&rdquo; said Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They searched the yard over, but the key was not to be found.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if that ain't just like you, Billy,&rdquo; cried Jimmy, &ldquo;you all time
+      perposing to play chain-gang and you all time lose the key.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lina grew indignant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You proposed this yourself, Jimmy Garner,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;we never would have
+      thought of playing chain-gang but for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks like we can't never do anything at all,&rdquo; moaned Frances, &ldquo;'thout
+      grown folks 've got to know 'bout it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and laugh fit to pop theirselfs open,&rdquo; said her fellow-prisoner. &ldquo;I
+      can't never pass by Owen Gibbs and Len Hamner now 'thout they laugh just
+      like idjets and grin just like pole-cats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't never hear tell of a pole-cat grinnin',&rdquo; corrected Billy, &ldquo;he
+      jes' smell worser 'n what a billy goat do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Chessy cats that grin,&rdquo; explained Lina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look like folks would get 'em a lot of pole-cats stead o' chillens always
+      hafto be wearing assfetty bags 'round their nakes, so's they can keep off
+      whopping-cough,&rdquo; said Frances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't wear a pole-cat roun' yo' nake,&rdquo; grinned Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Len Hamner all time now asking me,&rdquo; Jimmy continued, &ldquo;when I'm going
+      to wear Sarah Jane's co'set to Sunday-School. Grown folks 'bout the
+      lunatickest things they is. Ain't you going to unlock this chain, Billy?&rdquo;
+       he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I got to unlock it with?&rdquo; asked Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Jimmy's father was taking the crestfallen chaingang to the blacksmith
+      shop to have their fetters removed, they had to pass by the livery stable;
+      and Sam Lamb, bent double with intoxicating mirth at their predicament,
+      yelled:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lordee! Lordee! Y' all sho' is de outlandishest kids 'twixt de Bad Place
+      an' de moon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                   A TRANSACTION IN MUMPS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you come near me,&rdquo; screamed Billy, sauntering slowly and
+      deliberately toward the dividing fence; &ldquo;keep way f'om me; they's
+      ketchin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy was sitting on his front steps and the proverbial red flag could not
+      have excited a bull to quicker action. He hopped down the steps and ran
+      across his own yard toward Billy as fast as his short, fat legs, could
+      carry him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Git 'way f'om me; you'll ketch 'em if you teches me,&rdquo; warned Billy; &ldquo;an'
+      you too little to have 'em,&rdquo; and he waved an authoritative hand at the
+      other child. But Jimmy's curiosity was aroused to the highest pitch. He
+      promptly jumped the fence and gazed at his chum with critical admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter,&rdquo; he inquired, &ldquo;you got the toothache?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Toothache!&rdquo; was the scornful echo, &ldquo;well, I reckon not. Git back; don't
+      you tech 'em; you ain't ol' 'nough to have 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's head was swathed in a huge, white cloth; his usually lean little
+      cheeks were puffed out till he resembled a young hippopotamus, and his
+      pretty grey eyes were almost invisible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You better git 'way f'om me an' don't tech 'em, like I tells you,&rdquo; he
+      reiterated. &ldquo;Aunt Minerva say you ain't never had 'em an' she say fer me
+      to make you keep 'way f'om me 'cause you ain't a ol' chile like what I
+      is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't but six,&rdquo; retorted angry Jimmy, &ldquo;and I'll be six next month;
+      you all time trying to 'suade little boys to think you're 'bout a million
+      years old. What's the matter with you, anyhow? You 'bout the funniest
+      looking kid they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy theatrically touched a distended cheek. &ldquo;These here is mumps,&rdquo; he
+      said impressively; &ldquo;an' when you got 'em you can make grown folks do
+      perzactly what you want 'em to. Aunt Minerva's in the kitchen right now
+      makin' me a 'lasses custard if I'll be good an' stay right in the house
+      an' don't come out here in the yard an' don't give you the mumps. Course I
+      can't tech that custard now 'cause I done come out here an' it ain't
+      honer'ble; but she's makin' it jes' the same. You better git 'way f'om me
+      an' not tech 'em; you too little to have 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they easy to ketch?&rdquo; asked the other little boy eagerly; &ldquo;lemme jest
+      tech 'em one time, Billy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Git 'way, I tell you,&rdquo; warned the latter with a superior air. To increase
+      Jimmy's envy he continued: &ldquo;Grown folks tries to see how nice they can be
+      to chillens what's got the mumps. Aunt Minerva ain't been impedent to me
+      to-day; she lemme do jest 'bout like I please; it sho' is one time you can
+      make grown folks step lively.&rdquo; He looked at Jimmy meditatively, &ldquo;It sho'
+      is a plumb pity you ain't a ol' chile like what I is an' can't have the
+      mumps. Yo' ma 'd be skeered to spank you, skeered she 'd injuh yo' mumps.
+      Don't you come any closter to me,&rdquo; he again warned, &ldquo;you too little to
+      have 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll give you five peewees if you'll lemme tech 'em so 's I can get 'em,&rdquo;
+       pleaded the younger boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy hesitated. &ldquo;You mighty little&mdash;&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And my stoney,&rdquo; said the other child eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you was a ol' little boy,&rdquo; said Billy, &ldquo;it wouldn't make no diffunce;
+      I don't want to make yo' ma mad an' Aunt Minerva say for me to keep 'way
+      f'om you anyhow, though I didn't make her no promises.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy grew angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're the stingiest Peter they is, William Hill,&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;won't let
+      nobody tech your old mumps. My cousin in Memphis's got the measles; you
+      just wait till I get 'em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy eyed him critically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you was ol'&mdash;&rdquo; he was beginning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy thought he saw signs of his yielding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'll give you my china egg, too,&rdquo; he quickly proposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, jest one tech,&rdquo; agreed Billy; &ldquo;an' I ain't a-goin' to be 'sponsible
+      neither,&rdquo; and he poked out a swollen jaw for Jimmy to touch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ikey Rosenstein at this moment was spied by the two little boys as he was
+      Walking jauntily by the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You better keep 'way f'om here, Goose-Grease,&rdquo; Jimmy yelled at him; &ldquo;you
+      better get on the other side the street. Billy here's got the mumps an' he
+      lemme tech 'em so's I can get 'em, so's my papa and mama'll lemme do just
+      perzactly like I want to; but you're a Jew and Jews ain't got no business
+      to have the mumps, so you better get 'way. I paid Billy 'bout a million
+      dollars' worth to lemme tech his mumps,&rdquo; he said proudly. &ldquo;Get 'way; you
+      can't have em.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ikey had promptly stopped at the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What'll you take, Billy, to lemme get 'em?&rdquo; he asked, his commercial
+      spirit at once aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What'll you gimme?&rdquo; asked he of the salable commodity, with an eye to a
+      bargain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ikey pulled out a piece of twine and a blue glass bead from his pocket and
+      offered them to the child with the mumps. These received a contemptuous
+      rejection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can do perzactly like you please when you got the mumps,&rdquo; insinuated
+      Jimmy, who had seemingly allied himself with Billy as a partner in
+      business; &ldquo;grown folks bound to do what little boys want 'em to when you
+      got the mumps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ikey increased his bid by the stub of a lead pencil, but it was not until
+      he had parted with his most cherished pocket possessions that he was at
+      last allowed to place a gentle finger on the protuberant cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two little girls with their baby-buggies were seen approaching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;G' 'way from here, Frances, you and Lina,&rdquo; howled Jimmy. &ldquo;Don't you come
+      in here; me and Billy's got the mumps and you-all 'r' little girls and
+      ought n' to have 'em. Don't you come near us; they 're ketching.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two little girls immediately opened the gate, crossed the yard, mid
+      stood in front of Billy. They inspected him with admiration; he bore their
+      critical survey with affected unconcern and indifference, as befitted one
+      who had attained such prominence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't tech 'em,&rdquo; he commanded, waving them off as he leaned gracefully
+      against the fence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I teched 'em,&rdquo; boasted the younger boy. &ldquo;What'll you all give us if we Il
+      let you put your finger on 'em?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't a-goin' to charge little girls nothin',&rdquo; said the gallant Billy,
+      as he proffered his swollen jowl to each in turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little darkey riding a big black horse was galloping by; Jimmy hailed
+      and halted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You better go fast,&rdquo; he shrieked. &ldquo;Me and Billy and Frances and Lina's
+      got the mumps and you ain't got no business to have 'em 'cause you're a
+      nigger, and you better take your horse to the lib'ry stable 'cause he
+      might ketch 'em too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The negro boy dismounted and hitched his horse to the fence. &ldquo;I gotter
+      little tarrapim&mdash;&rdquo; he began insinuatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus it came to pass that there was an epidemic of mumps in the little
+      town of Covington, and William Green Hill grew rich in marbles, in tops,
+      in strings, in toads, in chewing gum, and in many other things which
+      comprise the pocket treasures of little boys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                   THE INFANT MIND SHOOTS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva had bought a book for Billy entitled &ldquo;Stories of Great and
+      Good Men,&rdquo; which she frequently read to him for his education and
+      improvement. These stories related the principal events in the lives of
+      the heroes but never mentioned any names, always asking at the end, &ldquo;Can
+      you tell me who this man was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her nephew heard the stories so often that he had some expression or
+      incident by which he could identify each, without paying much attention
+      while she was reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He and his aunt had just settled themselves on the porch for a reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy was on his own porch cutting up funny capers, and making faces for
+      the other child's amusement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme go over to Jimmy's, Aunt Minerva,&rdquo; pleaded her nephew, &ldquo;an' you can
+      read to me to-night. I 'd a heap ruther not hear you read right now. It'll
+      make my belly ache.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva looked at him severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she enjoined, &ldquo;don't you want to be a smart man when you grow
+      up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes 'm,&rdquo; he replied, without much enthusiasm. &ldquo;Well, jes' lemme ask Jimmy
+      to come over here an' set on the other sider you whils' you read. He ain't
+      never hear 'bout them tales, an' I s'pec' he'd like to come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; replied his flattered and gratified relative, &ldquo;call him
+      over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy went to the fence, where he signaled Jimmy to meet him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva say you come over an' listen to her read some er the
+      pretties' tales you ever hear,&rdquo; he said, as if conferring a great favor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, sirree-bob!&rdquo; was the impolite response across the fence, &ldquo;them 'bout
+      the measliest tales they is. I'll come if she'll read my Uncle Remus
+      book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please come on,&rdquo; begged Billy, dropping the patronizing manner that he
+      had assumed, in hope of inducing his chum to share his martyrdom. &ldquo;You
+      know Aunt Minerva'd die in her tracks 'fore she'd read Uncle Remus. You'll
+      like these-here tales 'nother sight better anyway. I'll give you my stoney
+      if you'll come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; you ain't going to get me in no such box as that. If she'd just read
+      seven or eight hours I wouldn't mind; but she'll get you where she wants
+      you and read 'bout a million hours. I know Miss Minerva.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's aunt was growing impatient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, William,&rdquo; she called. &ldquo;I am waiting for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy went back to his own porch and the other boy joined his kinswoman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why wouldn't Jimmy come?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&mdash;he ain't feeling very well,&rdquo; was the considerate rejoinder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once there was a little boy who was born in Virginia&mdash;&rdquo; began Miss
+      Minerva.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Born in a manger,&rdquo; repeated the inattentive little boy to himself, &ldquo;I
+      knows who that was.&rdquo; So, this important question settled in his mind, he
+      gave himself up to the full enjoyment of his chum and to the giving and
+      receiving secret signals, the pleasure of which was decidedly enhanced by
+      the fear of imminent detection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father, I can not tell a lie, I did it with my little hatchet,&mdash;&rdquo;
+       read the thin, monotonous voice at his elbow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy laughed aloud&mdash;at that minute Jimmy was standing on his head
+      waving two chubby feet in the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; said his aunt reprovingly, peering at him over her spectacles,
+      &ldquo;I don't see anything to laugh at,&rdquo;&mdash;and she did not, but then she
+      was in ignorance of the little conspiracy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was a good and dutiful son and he studied his lessons so well that
+      when he was only seventeen years old he was employed to survey vast tracts
+      of land in Virginia&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva emphasized every word, hoping thus to impress her nephew. But
+      he was so busy, keeping one eye on her and one on the little boy on the
+      other porch, that he did not have time to use his ears at all and so did
+      not hear one word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leaving his camp fires burning to deceive the enemy, he stole around by a
+      circuitous route, fell upon the British and captured&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy held up his hands to catch a ball which Jimmy made believe to throw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva still read on, unconscious of her nephew's inattention:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The suffering at Valley Forge had been intense during the winter&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy made a pretense behind his aunt's upright back of throwing a ball
+      while the other child held up two fat little hands to receive it. Again he
+      laughed aloud as Jimmy spat on his hands and ground the imaginary ball
+      into his hip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him sternly over her glasses:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What makes you so silly?&rdquo; she inquired, and without waiting for a reply
+      went on with her reading; she was nearing the close now and she read
+      carefully and deliberately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he was chosen the first president of the United States.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy put his hands to his ears and wriggled his fingers at Jimmy, who
+      promptly returned the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He had no children of his own, so he is called the Father of his
+      Country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva closed the book, turned to the little boy at her side, and
+      asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was this great and good man, William?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jesus,&rdquo; was his ready answer, in an appropriately solemn little voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, William Green Hill!&rdquo; she exclaimed in disgust. &ldquo;What are you
+      thinking of? I don't believe you heard one word that I read.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy was puzzled; he was sure she had said &ldquo;Born in a manger.&rdquo; &ldquo;I didn't
+      hear her say nothin' 'bout bulrushes,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;so 'tain't Moses; she
+      didn't say 'log cabin,' so 'tain't Ab'aham Lincoln; she didn't say 'Thirty
+      cents look down upon you,' so 'tain't Napolyon. I sho' wish I'd paid
+      'tention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jesus!&rdquo; his aunt was saying, &ldquo;born in Virginia and first president of the
+      United States!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George Washin'ton, I aimed to say,&rdquo; triumphantly screamed the little boy,
+      who had received his cue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER, XXIV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    A FLAW IN THE TITLE
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on over,&rdquo; invited Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right; I believe I will,&rdquo; responded Billy, running to the fence. His
+      aunt's peremptory voice arrested his footsteps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William, come here!&rdquo; she called from the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He reluctantly retraced his steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going back to the kitchen to bake a cake and I want you to promise
+      me not to leave the yard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme jes' go over to Jimmy's a little while,&rdquo; he begged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; you and Jimmy can not be trusted together; you are sure to get into
+      mischief, and his mother and I have decided to keep the fence between you
+      for a while. Now, promise me that you will stay right in my yard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy sullenly gave her the promise and she went back to her baking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's always the way now,&rdquo; he said, meeting his little neighbor at the
+      fence, &ldquo;ever sence Aunt Minerva got onto this-here promisin' business, I
+      don' have no freedom 't all. It's 'William, promise me this,' an' it's
+      'William, don't ferget yo' promise now,' tell I's jes' plumb sick 'n tired
+      of it. She know I ain't goin' back on my word an' she jest nachelly gits
+      the 'vantage of me; she 'bout the hardest 'oman to manage I ever seen
+      sence I's born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can nearly all time make my mama do anything 'most if I jus' keep on
+      trying and keep on a-begging,&rdquo; bragged the other boy; &ldquo;I just say 'May I,
+      mama?' and she'll all time say, 'No, go 'way from me and lemme 'lone,' and
+      I just keep on, 'May I, mama? May I, mama? May I, mama? 'and toreckly
+      she'll say, 'Yes, go on and lemme read in peace.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Minerva won't give in much,&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;When she say 'No,
+      William,' 'tain't no use 'tall to beg her; you jest wastin' yo' breath.
+      When she put her foot down it got to go just like she say; she sho' do
+      like to have her own way better 'n any 'oman I ever see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She 'bout the mannishest woman they is,&rdquo; agreed Jimmy. &ldquo;She got you under
+      her thumb, Billy. I don' see what womans 're made fo' if you can't beg 'em
+      into things. I wouldn't let no old spunky Miss Minerva get the best of me
+      that 'way. Come on, anyhow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I can't come,&rdquo; was the gloomy reply; &ldquo;if she'd jest tol' me not to,
+      I coulder went but she made me promise, an' I ain't never goin' back on my
+      word. You come over to see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't,&rdquo; came the answer across the fence; &ldquo;I'm earning me a baseball
+      mask. I done already earnt me a mitt. My mama don't never make me promise
+      her nothing, she just pays me to be good. That's huccome I'm 'bout to get
+      'ligion and go to the mourner's bench. She's gone up town now and if I
+      don't go outside the yard while she's gone, she's going to gimme a
+      baseball mask. You got a ball what you bringed from the plantation, and
+      I'll have a bat and mitt and mask and we can play ball some. Come on over
+      just a little while; you ain't earning you nothing like what I'm doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; I promis' her not to an' I ain't ever goin' to break my promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, Mr. Promiser,&rdquo; said Jimmy, &ldquo;go get your ball and we'll th'ow
+      'cross the fence. I can't find mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy kept his few toys and playthings in a closet, which was full of old
+      plunder. As he reached for his ball something fell at his feet from a
+      shelf above. He picked it up, and ran excitedly into the yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look, Jimmy,&rdquo; he yelled, &ldquo;here's a baseball mask I found in the closet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jimmy, forgetful of the fact that he was to be paid for staying at home,
+      immediately rolled over the fence and ran eagerly toward his friend. They
+      examined the article in question with great care.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks perzactly like a mask,&rdquo; announced Jimmy after a thorough
+      inspection, &ldquo;and yet it don't.&rdquo; He tried it on. &ldquo;It don't seem to fit your
+      face right,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sarah Jane was bearing down upon them. &ldquo;Come back home dis minute, Jimmy!&rdquo;
+       she shrieked, &ldquo;want to ketch some mo' contagwous 'seases, don't yuh? What
+      dat y' all got now?&rdquo; As she drew nearer a smile of recognition and
+      appreciation overspread her big good-natured face. Then she burst into a
+      loud, derisive laugh. &ldquo;What y' all gwine to do wid Miss Minerva's old
+      bustle?&rdquo; she enquired. &ldquo;Y' all sho' am de contaritest chillens in dis here
+      copperation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bustle?&rdquo; echoed Billy, &ldquo;What's a bustle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dat-ar's a bustle&mdash;dat's what's a bustle. Ladies useto wear 'em
+      'cause dey so stylish to make they dresses stick out in the back. Come on
+      home, Jimmy, 'fore yuh ketch de yaller jandis er de epizootics; yo' ma
+      tol' yuh to stay right at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm coming, ain't I?&rdquo; scowled the little boy. &ldquo;Mama needn't to know
+      nothing 'thout you tell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you take yo' mama's present now, Jimmy?&rdquo; asked Billy; &ldquo;you ain't
+      earnt it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't you?&rdquo; asked Jimmy, doubtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw, I would n't, not 'thout I tol' her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll tell her I just comed over a minute to see 'bout Miss
+      Minerva's bustle,&rdquo; he agreed as he again tumbled over the fence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little negro boy, followed by a tiny, white dog, was passing by Miss
+      Minerva's gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy promptly flew to the gate and hailed him. Jimmy, looking around to
+      see that Sarah Jane had gone back to the kitchen, as promptly rolled over
+      the fence and joined him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lemme see yo' dog,&rdquo; said the former.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't he cute?&rdquo; said the latter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little darkey picked up the dog and passed it across the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish he was mine,&rdquo; said the smaller child, as he took the soft, fluffy
+      little ball in his arms; &ldquo;what'll you take for him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The negro boy had never seen the dog before, but he immediately accepted
+      the ownership thrust upon him and answered without hesitation, &ldquo;I'll take
+      a dollar for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't got but a nickel. Billy, ain't you got 'nough money to put with
+      my nickel to make a dollar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw; I ain't got a red cent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you what we'll do,&rdquo; suggested Jimmy; &ldquo;we'll trade you a
+      baseball mask for him. My mama's going to give me a new mask 'cause I all
+      time stay at home; so we'll trade you our old one. Go get it, Billy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus commanded Billy ran and picked up the bustle where it lay neglected
+      on the grass and handed it to the quasi-owner of the puppy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The deal was promptly closed and a little black negro went grinning down
+      the street with Miss Minerva's old bustle tied across his face, leaving
+      behind him a curly-haired dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't he sweet?&rdquo; said Jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close to his
+      breast, &ldquo;we got to name him, Billy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Le's name her Peruny Pearline,&rdquo; was the suggestion of the other joint
+      owner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He ain't going to be name' nothing at all like that,&rdquo; declared Jimmy;
+      &ldquo;you all time got to name our dogs the scalawaggest name they is. He's
+      going to be name' 'Sam Lamb' 'cause he's my partner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's a girl dog,&rdquo; argued Billy, &ldquo;an' she can't be name' no man's name.
+      If she could I'd call her Major.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care what sort o' dog he is, girl or boy, he's going to be name'
+      'Sam Lamb'!&rdquo; and he fondly stroked the little animal's soft head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, Peruny! Here, Peruny!&rdquo; and Billy tried to snatch her away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boys heard a whistle; the dog heard it, too. Springing from the little
+      boy's arms Sam Lamb Peruny Pearline ran under the gate and flew to meet
+      her master, who was looking for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                  EDUCATION AND ITS PERILS
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      It was a warm day in early August and the four children were sitting
+      contentedly in the swing. They met almost every afternoon now, but were
+      generally kept under strict surveillance by Miss Minerva.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twon't be long 'fore we'll all hafto go to school,&rdquo; remarked Frances,
+      &ldquo;and I'll be mighty sorry; I wish we didn't ever hafto go to any old
+      school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wisht we knowed how to read an' write when we's born,&rdquo; said Billy. &ldquo;If
+      I was God I'd make all my babies so's they is already eddicated when they
+      gits born. Reckon if we'd pray evy night an' ask God, He'd learn them
+      babies what He's makin' on now how to read an' write?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don' care nothing at all 'bout them babies,&rdquo; put in Jimmy, &ldquo;'tain't
+      going to do us no good if all the new babies what Doctor Sanford finds can
+      read and write; it'd jes' make 'em the sassiest things ever was. 'Sides, I
+      got plenty things to ask God for 'thout fooling long other folks' brats,
+      and I ain't going to meddle with God's business nohow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you all hear what Miss Larrimore, who teaches the little children at
+      school, said about us?&rdquo; asked Lina importantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naw,&rdquo; they chorused, &ldquo;what was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She told the Super'ntendent,&rdquo; was the reply of Lina, pleased with herself
+      and with that big word, &ldquo;that she would have to have more money next year,
+      for she heard that Lina Hamilton, Frances Black, William Hill, and Jimmy
+      Garner were all coming to school, and she said we were the most notorious
+      bad children in town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is the spitefullest woman they is,&rdquo; Jimmy's black eyes snapped; &ldquo;she
+      'bout the meddlesomest teacher in that school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who telled you 'bout it, Lina?&rdquo; questioned the other little girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Super'ntendent told his wife and you know how some ladies are,&mdash;they
+      just can't keep a secret. Now it is just like burying it to tell mother
+      anything; she never tells anybody but father, and grandmother, and
+      grandfather, and Uncle Ed, and Brother Johnson, and she makes them promise
+      never to breathe it to a living soul. But the Super'ntendent's wife is
+      different; she tells ever'thing she hears, and now everybody knows what
+      that teacher said about us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everybody says she is the crankiest teacher they is,&rdquo; cried Jimmy, &ldquo;she
+      won't let you bring nothing to school 'cepting your books; you can't even
+      take your slingshot, nor your air-gun, nor&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor your dolls,&rdquo; chimed in Frances, &ldquo;and she won't let you bat your eye,
+      nor say a word, nor cross your legs, nor blow your nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do she think we's goin' to her of school fer if we can't have fun?&rdquo;
+       asked Billy. &ldquo;Tabernicle sho' had fun when he went to school. He put a pin
+      in the teacher's chair an' she set down on it plumb up to the head, an' he
+      tie the strings together what two nigger gals had they hair wropped with,
+      an' he squoze up a little boy's legs in front of him with a rooster foot
+      tell he squalled out loud, an' he th'owed spitballs, an' he make him some
+      watermelon teeth, an' he paint a chicken light red an' tuck it to the
+      teacher fer a dodo, an' he put cotton in his pants 'fore he got licked,
+      an' he drawed the teacher on a slate. That's what you go to school fer is
+      to have fun, an' I sho' is goin' to have fun when I goes, an' I ain't
+      goin' to take no bulldozin' offer her, neither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bet we can squelch her,&rdquo; cried Frances, vindictively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we'll show her a thing or two&rdquo;&mdash;for once Jimmy agreed with her,
+      &ldquo;she 'bout the butt-in-est old woman they is, and she's going to find out
+      we 'bout the squelchingest kids ever she tackle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alfred Gage went to school to her last year,&rdquo; said Frances, &ldquo;and he can
+      read and write.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; joined in Jimmy, &ldquo;and he 'bout the proudest boy they is; all time
+      got to write his name all over everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You 'member 'bout last Communion Sunday,&rdquo; went on the little girl, &ldquo;when
+      they hand roun' the little envellups and telled all the folks what was
+      willing to give five dollars more on the pastor's sal'y just to write his
+      name; so Alfred he so frisky 'cause he know how to write; so he tooken one
+      of the little envellups and wroten 'Alfred Gage' on it; so when his papa
+      find out 'bout it he say that kid got to work and pay that five dollars
+      hi'self, 'cause he done sign his name to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if he ain't 'bout the sickest kid they is,&rdquo; declared Jimmy; &ldquo;I'll
+      betcher he won't get fresh no more soon. He telled me the other day he
+      ain't had a drink of soda water this summer, 'cause every nickel he gets
+      got to go to Mr. Pastor's sal'ry; he says he plumb tired supporting
+      Brother Johnson and all his family; and, he say, every time he go up town
+      he sees Johnny Johnson a-setting on a stool in Baltzer's drug store just
+      a-swigging milk-shakes; he says he going to knock him off some day 'cause
+      it's his nickels that kid's a-spending.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a short silence, broken by Billy, who remarked, apropos of
+      nothing:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sho' is glad I don't hafter be a 'oman when I puts on long pants, mens
+      is heap mo' account.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't be a woman for nothing at all,&rdquo; Jimmy fully agreed with him;
+      &ldquo;they have the pokiest time they is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad I am going to be a young lady when I grow up,&rdquo; Lina declared, &ldquo;I
+      wouldn't be a gentleman for anything. I'm going to wear pretty clothes and
+      be beautiful and be a belle like mother was, and have lots of lovers kneel
+      at my feet on one knee and play the guitar with the other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How they goin' to play the guitar with they other knee?&rdquo; asked the
+      practical Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And sing 'Call Me Thine Own,'&rdquo; she continued, ignoring his interruption.
+      &ldquo;Father got on his knees to mother thirty-seven-and-a-half times before
+      she'd say, 'I will.&rdquo;'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look like he'd 'a' wore his breeches out,&rdquo; said Billy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to be a lady,&rdquo; declared Frances; &ldquo;they can't ever ride
+      straddle nor climb a tree, and they got to squinch up their waists and
+      toes. I wish I could kiss my elbow right now and turn to a boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XXVI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                  UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They's going to be a big nigger 'scursion to Memphis at 'leven o'clock,&rdquo;
+       said Jimmy as he met the other little boy at the dividing fence; &ldquo;Sam
+      Lamb's going and 'most all the niggers they is. Sarah Jane 'lowed she's
+      going, but she ain't got nobody to 'tend to Bennie Dick. Wouldn't you like
+      to go, Billy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't go 'thout you's a nigger,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;Sam Lamb say they
+      ain't no white folks 'lowed on this train 'cepin' the engineer an'
+      conductor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sam Lamb'd take care of us if we could go,&rdquo; continued Jimmy. &ldquo;Let's slip
+      off and go down to the depot and see the niggers get on. There'll be 'bout
+      a million.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's eyes sparkled with appreciation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sho' wish I could,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but Aunt Minerva'd make me stay in bed a
+      whole week if I want near the railroad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mama 'd gimme 'bout a million licks, too, if I projeckted with a
+      nigger 'scursion she 'bout the spankingest woman they is. My papa put some
+      burnt cork on his face in the Knights er Pythi's minstrels and I know
+      where we can get some to make us black; you go get Miss Minerva's ink
+      bottle too, that'll help some, and get some matches, and I'll go get the
+      cork and we can go to Sarah Jane's house and make usselfs black.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ain't never promise not to black up and go down to the depot,&rdquo; said
+      Billy waveringly. &ldquo;I promise not to never be no mo' Injun&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, run then,&rdquo; Jimmy interrupted impatiently. &ldquo;We'll just slip down to
+      the railroad and take a look at the niggers. You don't hafto get on the
+      train just 'cause you down to the depot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Miss Minerva's nephew, after tiptoeing into the house for her ink
+      bottle and filling his pockets with contraband matches, met his chum at
+      the cabin. There, under the critical survey of Bennie Dick from his
+      customary place on the floor, they darkened their faces, heads, hands,
+      feet, and legs; then, pulling their caps over their eyes, these energetic
+      little boys stole out of the back gate and fairly flew down an alley to
+      the station. No one noticed them in that hot, perspiring, black crowd. A
+      lively band was playing and the mob of good-humored, happy negroes,
+      dressed in their Sunday best, laughing and joking, pushing and elbowing,
+      made their way to the excursion train standing on the track.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two excited children got directly behind a broad, pompous negro and
+      slipped on the car just after him. Fortunately they found a seat in the
+      rear of the coach and there they sat unobserved, still and quiet, except
+      for an occasional delighted giggle, till the bell clanged and the train
+      started off. &ldquo;We'll see Sam Lamb toreckly,&rdquo; whispered Jimmy, &ldquo;and he'll
+      take care of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The train was made up of seven coaches, which had been taking on negroes
+      at every station up the road as far as Paducah, and it happened that the
+      two little boys did not know a soul in their car.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when they were nearing Woodstock, a little station not far from
+      Memphis, Sam Lamb, making a tour of the cars, came into their coach and
+      was promptly hailed by the children. When he recognized them, he burst
+      into such a roar of laughter that it caused all the other passengers to
+      turn around and look in their direction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What y' all gwine to do nex' I jes' wonder,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Yo' ekals
+      ain't made dis side o' 'ternity. Lordee, Lordee,&rdquo; he gazed at them
+      admiringly, &ldquo;you sho' is genoowine corn-fed, sterlin' silver,
+      all-woolan'-a-yard-wide, pure-leaf, Green-River Lollapaloosas. Does yo'
+      folks know 'bout yer? Lordee! What I axin' sech a fool question fer?
+      'Course dey don't. Come on, I gwine to take y' all off 'n dese cars right
+      here at dis Woodstock, an' we kin ketch de 'commodation back home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Sam,&rdquo; protested Billy, &ldquo;We don't want to go back home. We wants to go
+      to Memphis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hit don't matter what y' all wants,&rdquo; was the negro's reply, &ldquo;y' all gotta
+      git right off. Dis-here 'scursion train don't leave Memphis twell twelve
+      o'clock tonight an' yuh see how slow she am runnin', and ev'y no 'count
+      nigger on her'll be full o' red eye. An' yo' folks is plumb 'stracted
+      'bout yer dis minute, I 'low. Come on. She am gittin' ready to stop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He grabbed the blackened hand of each, pushing Jimmy and pulling Billy,
+      and towed the reluctant little boys through the coach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yuh sho' is sp'iled my fun,&rdquo; he growled as he hustled them across the
+      platform to the waitingroom. &ldquo;Dis-here's de fus' 'scursion I been on
+      widout Sukey a-taggin' long in five year an' I aimed fo' to roll 'em high;
+      an' now, 'case o' ketchin' up wid y' all, I gotta go right back home. Now
+      y' all set jes' as straight as yer kin set on dis here bench,&rdquo; he
+      admonished, &ldquo;whilst I send a telegraph to Marse Jeems Garner. An' don' yuh
+      try to 'lope out on de flatform neider. Set whar I kin keep my eye skinned
+      on yuh, yuh little slipp'ry-ellum eels. Den I gwine to come back an' wash
+      yer, so y' all look like 'spectable white folks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva came out of her front door looking for Billy at the same time
+      that Mrs. Garner appeared on her porch in search of Jimmy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William! You William!&rdquo; called one woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jimmee-ee! O Jimmee-ee-ee!&rdquo; called the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen my nephew?&rdquo; asked the one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Have you seen anything of Jimmy?&rdquo; was the reply of the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were talking together at the fence about an hour ago,&rdquo; said Billy's
+      aunt. &ldquo;Possibly they are down at the livery stable with Sam Lamb; I'll
+      phone and find out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I'll ring up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Hamilton. They may have gone to see
+      Lina or Frances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a short time both women appeared on their porches again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have not been to the stable this morning,&rdquo; said Miss Minerva
+      uneasily, &ldquo;and Sam went to Memphis on the excursion train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And they are not with Lina or Frances,&rdquo;&mdash;Mrs. Garner's face wore an
+      anxious look, &ldquo;I declare I never saw two such children. Still, I don't
+      think we need worry as it is nearly dinner time, and they never miss their
+      meals, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the noon hour came and with it no hungry little boys. Then, indeed,
+      did the relatives of the children grow uneasy. The two telephones were
+      kept busy, and Mr. Garner, with several other men on horseback, scoured
+      the village. Not a soul had seen either child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At three o'clock Miss Minerva, worn with anxiety and on the verge of a
+      collapse, dropped into a chair on her veranda, her faithful Major by her
+      side. He had come to offer help and sympathy as soon as he heard of her
+      distress, and, finding her in such a softened, dependent, and receptive
+      mood, the Major had remained to try to cheer her up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. and Mrs. Garner were also on the porch, discussing what further steps
+      they could take.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all the fault of that William of yours,&rdquo; snapped one little boy's
+      mother to the other little boy's aunt: &ldquo;Jimmy is the best child in the
+      world when he is by himself, but he is easily led into mischief.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva's face blazed with indignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William's fault indeed!&rdquo; she answered back. &ldquo;There never was a sweeter
+      child than William;&rdquo; for the lonely woman knew the truth at last. At the
+      thought that her little nephew might be hurt, a long forgotten tenderness
+      stirred her bosom and she realized for the first time how the child had
+      grown into her life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The telegram came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are all right,&rdquo; shouted Mr. Garner joyously, as he quickly opened
+      and read the yellow missive, &ldquo;they went on the excursion and Sam Lamb is
+      bringing them home on the accommodation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the Major, short, plump, rubicund, jolly, and Miss Minerva, tall,
+      sallow, angular, solemn, were walking to the station to meet the train
+      that was bringing home the runaways, the elderly lover knew himself to be
+      at last master of the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The trouble with Billy&mdash;&rdquo; he began, adjusting his steps to Miss
+      Minerva's mincing walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;William,&rdquo; she corrected, faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The trouble with Billy,&rdquo; repeated her suitor firmly, &ldquo;is this: you have
+      tried to make a girl out of a healthy, high-spirited boy; you haven't
+      given him the toys and playthings a boy should have; you have not even
+      given the child common love and affection.&rdquo; He was letting himself go, for
+      he knew that she needed the lecture, and, wonderful to tell, she was
+      listening meekly. &ldquo;You have steeled your heart,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;against
+      Billy and against me. You have about as much idea how to manage a boy as a&mdash;as
+      a&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated for a suitable comparison: he wanted to say &ldquo;goat,&rdquo;
+       but gallantry forbade; &ldquo;as any other old maid,&rdquo; he blurted out, realizing
+      as he did so that a woman had rather be called a goat than an old maid any
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The color mounted to Miss Minerva's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't have to be an old maid,&rdquo; she snapped spunkily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; and you are not going to be one any longer,&rdquo; he answered with
+      decision. &ldquo;I tell you what, Miss Minerva, we are going to make a fine,
+      manly boy out of that nephew of yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We?&rdquo; she echoed faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we! I said we, didn't I?&rdquo; replied the Major ostentatiously. &ldquo;The
+      child shall have a pony to ride and every thing else that a boy ought to
+      have. He is full of natural animal spirits and has to find some outlet for
+      them; that is the reason he is always in mischief. Now, I think I
+      understand children.&rdquo; He drew himself up proudly. &ldquo;We shall be married
+      to-morrow,&rdquo; he announced, &ldquo;that I may assume at once my part of the
+      responsibility of Billy's rearing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Minerva looked at him in fluttering consternation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, not to-morrow,&rdquo; she protested; &ldquo;possibly next year some time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; reiterated the Major, his white moustache bristling with
+      determination. Having at last asserted himself, he was enjoying the
+      situation immensely and was not going to give way one inch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will be married to-morrow and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next month,&rdquo; she suggested timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow, I tell you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next week,&rdquo; she answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow! To-morrow! To-morrow!&rdquo; cried the Major, happy as a schoolboy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Next Sunday night after church,&rdquo; pleaded Miss Minerva.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not next Sunday or Monday or Tuesday. We will be married to-morrow,&rdquo;
+       declared the dictatorial Confederate veteran.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Billy's aunt succumbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Joseph,&rdquo; she said with almost a simper, &ldquo;you are so masterful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How would you like me for an uncle?&rdquo; Miss Minerva's affianced asked Billy
+      a few minutes later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine an' dandy,&rdquo; was the answer, as the child wriggled himself out of his
+      aunt's embrace. The enthusiastic reception accorded him, when he got off
+      the train, was almost too much for the little boy. He gazed at the pair in
+      embarrassment. He was for the moment disconcerted and overcome; in place
+      of the expected scoldings and punishment, he was received with caresses
+      and flattering consideration. He could not understand it at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Major put a hand on the little boy's shoulder and smiled a kindly
+      smile into his big, grey, astonished eyes as the happy lover delightedly
+      whispered, &ldquo;Your aunt Minerva is going to marry me to-morrow, Billy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pants an' all?&rdquo; asked William Green Hill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by
+Frances Boyd Calhoun
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/5187.txt b/5187.txt
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+++ b/5187.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by 
+Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Miss Minerva and William Green Hill
+
+Author: Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5187]
+Posting Date: April 20, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISS MINERVA AND WILLIAM GREEN HILL
+
+By Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+                    A SCANDALIZED VIRGIN
+
+
+The bus drove up to the gate and stopped under the electric
+street-light. Perched on the box by the big, black negro driver sat a
+little boy whose slender figure was swathed in a huge rain coat.
+
+Miss Minerva was on the porch waiting to receive him.
+
+"Mercy on me, child," she said, "what on earth made you ride up there?
+Why didn't you get inside?"
+
+"I jest wanted to ride by Sam Lamb," replied the child as he was lifted
+down. "An' I see a nice fat little man name' Major--"
+
+"He jes' wouldn' ride inside, Miss Minerva," interrupted the driver,
+quickly, to pass over the blush that rose to the spinster's thin cheek
+at mention of the Major. "Twan't no use fer ter try ter make him ride
+nowhars but jes' up by me. He jes' 'fused an' 'fused an' 'sputed an'
+'sputed; he jes' tuck ter me f'om de minute he got off 'm de train an'
+sot eyes on me; he am one easy chile ter git 'quainted wid; so, I jes'
+h'isted him up by me. Here am his verlise, ma'am."
+
+"Good-bye, Sam Lamb," said the child as the negro got back on the box
+and gathered up the reins. "I'll see you to-morrer."
+
+Miss Minerva imprinted a thin, old-maid kiss on the sweet, childish
+mouth. "I am your Aunt Minerva," she said, as she picked up his satchel.
+
+The little boy carelessly drew the back of his hand across his mouth.
+
+"What are you doing?" she asked. "Are you wiping my kiss off?"
+
+"Naw 'm," he replied, "I's jest a--I's a-rubbin' it in, I reckon."
+
+"Come in, William," and his aunt led the way through the wide hall into
+w big bedroom.
+
+"Billy, ma'am," corrected her nephew.
+
+"William," firmly repeated Miss Minerva. "You may have been called Billy
+on that plantation where you were allowed to run wild with the negroes,
+but your name is William Green Hill and I shall insist upon your being
+called by it."
+
+She stooped to help him off with his coat, remarking as she did so,
+"What a big overcoat; it is several sizes too large for you."
+
+"Darned if 'tain't," agreed the child promptly.
+
+"Who taught you such a naughty word?" she asked in a horrified voice.
+"Don't you know it is wrong to curse?"
+
+"You call that cussin'?" came in scornful tones from the little boy.
+"You don't know cussin' when you see it; you jest oughter hear ole Uncle
+Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, Aunt Cindy's husban'; he'll show you somer the
+pretties' cussin' you ever did hear."
+
+"Who is Aunt Cindy?"
+
+"She's the colored 'oman what 'tends to me ever sence me an' Wilkes
+Booth Lincoln's born, an' Uncle Jup'ter is her husban' an' he sho' is a
+stingeree on cussin'. Is yo' husban' much of a cusser?" he inquired.
+
+A pale pink dyed Miss Minerva's thin, sallow face.
+
+"I am not a married woman," she replied, curtly, "and I most assuredly
+would not permit any oaths to be used on my premises."
+
+"Well, Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter is jest nach'elly boon' to cuss,--he's
+got a repertation to keep up," said Billy.
+
+He sat down in a chair in front of his aunt, crossed his legs and smiled
+confidentially up into her face.
+
+"Hell an' damn is jest easy ev'y day words to that nigger. I wish you
+could hear him cuss on a Sunday jest one time, Aunt Minerva; he'd sho'
+make you open yo' eyes an' take in yo' sign. But Aunt Cindy don't 'low
+me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln to say nothin' 't all only jest 'darn' tell
+we gits grown mens, an' puts on long pants."
+
+"Wilkes Booth Lincoln?" questioned his aunt.
+
+"Ain't you never hear teller him?" asked the child. "He's ole Aunt
+Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's boy; an' Peruny Pearline," he
+continued enthusiastically, "she ain't no ord'nary nigger, her hair
+ain't got nare kink an' she's got the grandes' clo'es. They ain't
+nothin' snide 'bout her. She got ten chillens an' ev'y single one of
+'em's got a diff'unt pappy, she been married so much. They do say she
+got Injun blood in her, too."
+
+Miss Minerva, who had been standing prim, erect, and stiff, fell limply
+into a convenient rocking chair, and looked closely at this orphaned
+nephew who had come to live with her.
+
+She saw a beautiful, bright, attractive, little face out of which big,
+saucy, grey eyes shaded by long curling black lashes looked winningly
+at her; she saw a sweet, childish, red mouth, a mass of short, yellow
+curls, and a thin but graceful little figure.
+
+"I knows the names of aller ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's
+chillens," he was saying proudly: "Admiral Farragut Moses the Prophet
+Esquire, he's the bigges'; an' Alice Ann Maria Dan Step-an'-Go-Fetch-It,
+she had to nuss all the res.'; she say fas' as she git th'oo nussin' one
+an' 'low she goin' to have a breathin' spell here come another one an'
+she got to nuss it. An' the nex' is Mount Sinai Tabernicle, he name
+fer the church where of Aunt BlueGum Tempy's Peruny Pearline takes her
+sackerment; an' the nex' is First Thessalonians; Second Thessalonians,
+he's dead an' gone to the Bad Place 'cause he skunt a cat,--I don't mean
+skin the cat on a actin' role like me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln does,--he
+skunt a sho' 'nough cat what was a black cat, what was a ole witch,
+an' she come back an' ha'nt him an' he growed thinner an' thinner an'
+weasler an' weasler, tell finely he wan't nothin' 't all but a skel'ton,
+an' the Bad Man won't 'low nobody 't all to give his parch' tongue no
+water, an' he got to, ever after amen, be toast on a pitchfork. An'
+Oleander Magnolia Althea is the nex'," he continued, enumerating Peruny
+Pearline's offspring on his thin, well molded fingers, "she got the
+seven year itch; an' Gettysburg, an' Biddle-&-Brothers-Mercantile-Co.;
+he name fer the sto' where ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline
+gits credit so she can pay when she fetches in her cotton in the fall;
+an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln, him an' me's twins, we was borned the same day
+only I's borned to my mama an' he's borned to his 'n an' Doctor
+Jenkins fetched me an' Doctor Shacklefoot fetched him. An' Decimus
+Ultimus,"--the little boy triumphantly put his right forefinger on his
+left little one, thus making the tenth, "she's the baby an' she's got
+the colic an' cries loud 'nough to wake up Israel; Wilkes Booth Lincoln
+say he wish the little devil would die. Peruny Pearline firs' name her
+'Doctor Shacklefoot' 'cause he fetches all her chillens, but the doctor
+he say that ain't no name fer a girl, so he name her Decimus Ultimus."
+
+Miss Minerva, sober, proper, dignified, religious old maid unused
+to children, listened in frozen amazement and paralyzed silence. She
+decided to put the child to bed at once that she might collect her
+thoughts, and lay some plans for the rearing of this sadly neglected,
+little orphaned nephew.
+
+"William," she said, "it is bedtime, and I know you must be sleepy after
+your long ride on the cars. Would you like something to eat before I put
+you to bed? I saved you some supper."
+
+"Naw 'm, I ain't hongry; the Major man what I talk to on the train tuck
+me in the dinin'-room an' gimme all I could hol'; I jest eat an' eat
+tell they wan't a wrinkle in me," was the reply. "He axed me 'bout you,
+too. Is he name' Major Minerva?"
+
+She opened a door in considerable confusion, and they entered a small,
+neat room adjoining.
+
+"This is your own little room, William," said she, "you see it opens
+into mine. Have you a nightshirt?"
+
+"Naw 'm, I don' need no night-shirt. I jest sleeps in my unions and
+sometimes in my overalls."
+
+"Well, you may sleep in your union suit to-night," said his scandalized
+relative, "and I'll see what I can do for you to-morrow. Can you undress
+yourself?"
+
+Her small nephew wrinkled his nose, disdainfully. "Well, I reckon so,"
+he scornfully made answer. "Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been undressin'
+usself ever sence we's born."
+
+"I'll come in here after a while and turn off the light. Good-night,
+William."
+
+"Good-night, Aunt Minerva," responded the little boy.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+                THE RABBIT'S LEFT HIND FOOT
+
+
+A few minutes later, as Miss Minerva sat rocking and thinking, the door
+opened and a lean, graceful, little figure, clad in a skinny, grey union
+suit, came into the room.
+
+"Ain't I a-goin' to say no prayers?" demanded a sweet, childish voice.
+"Aunt Cindy hear me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln say us prayers ev'y night
+sence we's born."
+
+"Why, of course you must say your prayers," said his aunt, blushing at
+having to be reminded of her duty by this young heathen; "kneel down
+here by me."
+
+Billy looked at his aunt's bony frame and thought of Aunt Cindy's soft,
+fat, ample lap. A wistful look crossed his childish face as he dropped
+down in front of her and laid his head against her knee, then the
+bright, beautiful little face took on an angelic expression as he closed
+his eyes and softly chanted: "'Now I lays me down to sleep, I prays the
+Lord my soul to keep, If I should die befo' I wake, I prays the Lord my
+soul to take.
+
+"'Keep way f'om me hoodoo an' witch, Lead my paf f'om the po'-house
+gate, I pines fey the golden harps an' sich, Oh, Lord, I'll set an'
+pray an' wait.' 'Oh, Lord, bless ev'ybody; bless me an' Aunt Cindy, an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln, an' Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline, an'
+Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, an' ev'ybody, an' Sam Lamb, an' Aunt Minerva,
+an' alley Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's chillens, an' give
+Aunt Minerva a billy goat or a little nanny if she'd ruther, an' bless
+Major Minerva, an' make me a good boy like Sanctified Sophy, fey Jesus'
+sake. Amen.'"
+
+"What is that you have tied around your neck, William?" she asked, as
+the little boy rose to his feet.
+
+"That's my rabbit foot; you won't never have no 'sease 't all an' nobody
+can't never conjure you if you wears a rabbit foot. This here one is the
+lef' hin' foot; it was ketched by a red-headed nigger with crosseyes
+in a graveyard at twelve er'clock on a Friday night, when they's a full
+moon. He give it to Aunt Cindy to tie 'roun' my nake when I's a baby.
+Ain't you got no abbit foot?" he anxiously inquired.
+
+"No," she answered. "I have never had one and I have never been
+conjured either. Give it to me, William; I can not allow you to be so
+superstitious," and she held out her hand.
+
+"Please, Aunt Minerva, jest lemme wear it to-night," he pleaded. "Me
+an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's been wearin' us rabbit foots ever sence we's
+born."
+
+"No," she said firmly; "I'll put a stop to such nonsense at once. Give
+it to me, William."
+
+Billy looked at his aunt's austere countenance and lovingly fingered his
+charm; he opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated; slowly he
+untied the string around his neck and laid his treasure on her lap; then
+without looking up, he ran into his own little room, closing the door
+behind him.
+
+Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob coming
+from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked into a sad,
+little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with tears.
+
+"What is the matter, William?" she coldly asked.
+
+"I ain't never slep' by myself," he sobbed. "Wilkes Booth Lincoln always
+sleep on a pallet by my bed ever sence we's born an'--'I wants Aunt
+Cindy to tell me 'bout Uncle Piljerk Peter."
+
+His aunt sat down on the bed by his side. She was not versed in the ways
+of childhood and could not know that the little boy wanted to pillow his
+head on Aunt Cindy's soft and ample bosom, that he was homesick for his
+black friends, the only companions he had ever known.
+
+"I'll you a Bible story," she temporized. "You must not be a baby. You
+are not afraid, are you, William? God is always with you."
+
+"I don' want no God," he sullenly made reply, "I wants somebody with
+sho' 'nough skin an' bones, an'--n' I wants to hear 'bout Uncle Piljerk
+Peter."
+
+"I will tell you a Bible story," again suggested his aunt, "I will tell
+you about--"
+
+"I don' want to hear no Bible story, neither," he objected, "I wants to
+hear Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter play his 'corjun an' sing:
+
+  "'Rabbit up the gum tree, Coon is in the holler
+  Wake, snake; Juney-Bug stole a half a dollar."'
+
+"I'll sing you a hymn," said Miss Minerva patiently.
+
+"I don' want to hear you sing no hymn," said Billy impolitely. "I wants
+to see Sanctified Sophy shout."
+
+As his aunt could think of no substitute with which to tempt him in lieu
+of Sanctified Sophy's shouting, she remained silent.
+
+"An' I wants Wilkes Booth Lincoln to dance a clog," persisted her
+nephew.
+
+Miss Minerva still remained silent. She felt unable to cope with the
+situation till she had adjusted her thoughts and made her plans.
+
+Presently Billy, looking at her shrewdly, said:
+
+"Gimme my rabbit foot, Aunt Minerva, an' I'll go right off to sleep."
+
+When she again looked in on him he was fast asleep, a rosy flush on his
+babyish, tearstained cheek, his red lips half parted, his curly head
+pillowed on his arm, and close against his soft, young throat there
+nestled the left hind foot of a rabbit.
+
+Miss Minerva's bed time was half after nine o'clock, summer or winter.
+She had hardly varied a second in the years that had elapsed since the
+runaway marriage of her only relative, the young sister whose child
+had now come to live with her. But on the night of Billy's arrival the
+stern, narrow woman sat for hours in her rocking chair, her mind busy
+with thoughts of that pretty young sister, dead since the boy's birth.
+
+And now the wild, reckless, dissipated brother-in-law was dead, too, and
+the child had been sent to her; to the aunt who did not want him,
+who did not care for children, who had never forgiven her sister her
+unfortunate marriage. "If he had only been a girl," she sighed. What she
+believed to be a happy thought entered her brain.
+
+"I shall rear him," she promised herself, "just as if he were a little
+girl; then he will be both a pleasure and a comfort to me, and a
+companion for my loneliness."
+
+Miss Minerva was strictly methodical; she worked ever by the clock,
+so many hours for this, so many minutes for that. William, she now
+resolved, for the first time becoming really interested in him, should
+grow up to be a model young man, a splendid and wonderful piece of
+mechanism, a fine, practical, machine-like individual, moral, upright,
+religious. She was glad that he was young; she would begin his training
+on the morrow. She would teach him to sew, to sweep, to churn, to cook,
+and when he was older he should be educated for the ministry.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Minerva; "I shall be very strict with him just at
+first, and punish him for the slightest disobedience or misdemeanor, and
+he will soon learn that my authority is not to be questioned."
+
+And the little boy who had never had a restraining hand laid upon him
+in his short life? He slept sweetly and innocently in the next room
+dreaming of the care-free existence on the plantation and of his idle,
+happy, negro companions.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+                     THE WILLING WORKER
+
+"Get up, William," said Miss Minerva, "and come with me to the
+bath-room; I have fixed your bath."
+
+The child's sleepy eyes popped wide open at this astounding command.
+
+"Ain't this-here Wednesday?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Yes; to-day is Wednesday. Hurry up or your water will get cold."
+
+"Well, me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln jest washed las' Sat'day. We ain't
+got to wash no mo' till nex' Sat'day," he argued.
+
+"Oh, yes," said his relative; "you must bathe every day."
+
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never wash on a Wednesday sence we's
+born," he protested indignantly.
+
+Billy's idea of a bath was taken from the severe weekly scrubbing which
+Aunt Cindy gave him with a hard washrag, and he felt that he'd rather
+die at once than have to bathe every day.
+
+He followed his aunt dolefully to the bath-room at the end of the long
+back-porch of the old-fashioned, one-story house; but once in the big
+white tub he was delighted.
+
+In fact he stayed in it so long Miss Minerva had to knock on the door
+and tell him to hurry up and get ready for breakfast.
+
+"Say," he yelled out to her, "I likes this here; it's mos' as fine as
+Johnny's Wash Hole where me and' Wilkes Booth Lincoln goes in swimmin'
+ever sence we's born."
+
+When he came into the dining-room he was a sight to gladden even a prim
+old maid's heart. The water had curled his hair into riotous yellow
+ringlets, his bright eyes gleamed, his beautiful, expressive little face
+shone happily, and every movement of his agile, lithe figure was grace
+itself.
+
+"I sho' is hongry," he remarked, as he took his seat at the breakfast
+table.
+
+Miss Minerva realized that now was the time to begin her small nephew's
+training; if she was ever to teach him to speak correctly she must begin
+at once.
+
+"William," she said sternly, "you must not talk so much like a negro.
+Instead of saying 'I sho' is hongry,' you should say, 'I am very
+hungry.' Listen to me and try to speak more correctly."
+
+"Don't! don't!" she screamed as he helped himself to the meat and gravy,
+leaving a little brown river on her fresh white tablecloth. "Wait until
+I ask a blessing; then I will help you to what you want."
+
+Billy enjoyed his breakfast very much. "These muffins sho' is--" he
+began; catching his aunt's eye he corrected himself--
+
+"These muffins am very good."
+
+"These muffins are very good," said Miss Minerva patiently.
+
+"Did you ever eat any bobbycued rabbit?" he asked. "Me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln been eatin' chit'lins, an' sweet 'taters, an' 'possum, an'
+squirrel, an' hoecake, an' Brunswick stew ever sence we's born," was his
+proud announcement.
+
+"Use your napkin," commanded she, "and don't fill your mouth so full."
+
+The little boy flooded his plate with syrup.
+
+"These-here 'lasses sho' is--" he began, but instantly remembering that
+he must be more particular in his speech, he stammered out:
+
+"These-here sho' is--am--are a nice messer 'lasses. I ain't never eat
+sech a good bait. They sho' is--I aimed to say--these 'lasses sho' are a
+bird; they's 'nother sight tastier 'n sorghum, an' Aunt Cindy 'lows that
+sorghum is the very penurity of a nigger."
+
+She did not again correct him.
+
+"I must be very patient," she thought, "and go very slowly. I must not
+expect too much of him at first."
+
+After breakfast Miss Minerva, who would not keep a servant, preferring
+to do her own work, tied a big cook-apron around the little boy's neck,
+and told him to churn while she washed the dishes. This arrangement did
+not suit Billy.
+
+"Boys don't churn," he said sullenly, "me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln don'
+never have to churn sence we's born; 'omans has to churn an' I ain't
+agoing to. Major Minerva--he ain't never churn," he began belligerently
+but his relative turned an uncompromising and rather perturbed back upon
+him. Realizing that he was beaten, he submitted to his fate, clutched
+the dasher angrily, and began his weary work.
+
+He was glad his little black friend did not witness his disgrace.
+
+As he thought of Wilkes Booth Lincoln the big tears came into his eyes
+and rolled down his cheeks; he leaned way over the churn and the great
+glistening tears splashed right into the hole made for the dasher, and
+rolled into the milk.
+
+Billy grew interested at once and laughed aloud; he puckered up his
+face and tried to weep again, for he wanted more tears to fall into the
+churn; but the tears refused to come and he couldn't squeeze another one
+out of his eyes.
+
+"Aunt Minerva," he said mischievously, "I done ruint yo' buttermilk."
+
+"What have you done?" she inquired.
+
+"It's done ruint," he replied, "you'll hafter th'ow it away; 't ain't
+fitten fer nothin.' I done cried 'bout a bucketful in it."
+
+"Why did you cry?" asked Miss Minerva calmly. "Don't you like to work?"
+
+"Yes 'm, I jes' loves to work; I wish I had time to work all the time.
+But it makes my belly ache to churn,--I got a awful pain right now."
+
+"Churn on!" she commanded unsympathetically.
+
+He grabbed the dasher and churned vigorously for one minute.
+
+"I reckon the butter's done come," he announced, resting from his
+labors.
+
+"It hasn't begun to come yet," replied the exasperated woman. "Don't
+waste so much time, William."
+
+The child churned in silence for the space of two minutes, and
+suggested: "It's time to put hot water in it; Aunt Cindy always puts hot
+water in it. Lemme git some fer you."
+
+"I never put hot water in my milk," said she, "it makes the butter
+puffy. Work more and talk less, William."
+
+Again there was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the dasher
+thumping against the bottom of the churn, and the rattle of the dishes.
+
+"I sho' is tired," he presently remarked, heaving a deep sigh. "My
+arms is 'bout give out, Aunt Minerva. Ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny
+Pearline see a man churn with his toes; lemme git a chair an' see if I
+can't churn with my toes."
+
+"Indeed you shall not," responded his annoyed relative positively.
+
+"Sanctified Sophy knowed a colored 'oman what had a little dog went
+roun' an' roun' an' churn fer her," remarked Billy after a short pause.
+"If you had a billy goat or a little nanny I could hitch him to the
+churn fer you ev'ry day."
+
+"William," commanded his aunt, "don't say another word until you have
+finished your work."
+
+"Can't I sing?" he asked.
+
+She nodded permission as she went through the open door into the
+dining-room.
+
+Returning a few minutes later she found him sitting astride the churn,
+using the dasher so vigorously that buttermilk was splashing in every
+direction, and singing in a clear, sweet voice:
+
+   "He'll feed you when you's naked,
+    The orphan stear he'll dry,
+    He'll clothe you when you's hongry
+    An' take you when you die."
+
+Miss Minerva jerked him off with no gentle hand.
+
+"What I done now?" asked the boy innocently, "'tain't no harm as I can
+see jes' to straddle a churn."
+
+"Go out in the front yard," commanded his aunt, "and sit in the swing
+till I call you. I'll finish the work without your assistance. And,
+William," she called after him, "there is a very bad little boy
+who lives next door; I want you to have as little to do with him as
+possible."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+                   SWEETHEART AND PARTNER
+
+
+Billy was sitting quietly in the big lawn-swing when his aunt, dressed
+for the street, finally came through the front door.
+
+"I am going up-town, William," she said, "I want to buy you some
+things that you may go with me to church Sunday. Have you ever been to
+Sunday-School?"
+
+"Naw 'm; but I been to pertracted meetin'," came the ready response,
+"I see Sanctified Sophy shout tell she tore ev'y rag offer her back
+'ceptin' a shimmy. She's one 'oman what sho' is got 'ligion; she ain't
+never backslid 't all, an' she ain't never fell f'om grace but one
+time--"
+
+"Stay right in the yard till I come back. Sit in the swing and don't go
+outside the front yard. I shan't be gone long," said Miss Minerva.
+
+His aunt had hardly left the gate before Billy caught sight of a round,
+fat little face peering at him through the palings which separated Miss
+Minerva's yard from that of her next-door neighbor.
+
+"Hello!" shouted Billy. "Is you the bad little boy what can't play with
+me?"
+
+"What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?" came the answering
+interrogation across the fence.
+
+"I's come to live with her," replied Billy. "My mama an' papa is dead.
+What's yo' name?"
+
+"I'm Jimmy Garner. How old are you? I'm most six, I am."
+
+"Shucks, I's already six, a-going on seven. Come on, le's swing."
+
+"Can't," said the new acquaintance, "I've runned off once to-day, and
+got licked for it."
+
+"I ain't never got no whippin' sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln 's
+born," boasted Billy.
+
+"Ain't you?" asked Jimmy. "I 'spec' I been whipped more 'n a million
+times, my mama is so pertic'lar with me. She's 'bout the pertic'larest
+woman ever was; she don't 'low me to leave the yard 'thout I get a
+whipping. I believe I will come over to see you 'bout half a minute."
+
+Suiting the action to the word Jimmy climbed the fence, and the two
+little boys were soon comfortably settled facing each other in the big
+lawn-swing.
+
+"Who lives over there?" asked Billy, pointing to the house across the
+street.
+
+"That's Miss Cecilia's house. That's her coming out of the front gate
+now."
+
+The young lady smiled and waved her hand at them.
+
+"Ain't she a peach?" asked Jimmy. "She's my sweetheart and she is 'bout
+the swellest sweetheart they is."
+
+"She's mine, too," promptly replied Billy, who had fallen in love at
+first sight. "I's a-goin' to have her fer my sweetheart too."
+
+"Naw, she ain't yours, neither; she's mine," angrily declared the other
+little boy, kicking his rival's legs. "You all time talking 'bout you
+going to have Miss Cecilia for your sweetheart. She's done already
+promised me."
+
+"I'll tell you what," proposed Billy, "lemme have her an' you can have
+Aunt Minerva."
+
+"I wouldn't have Miss Minerva to save your life," replied Jimmy
+disrespectfully, "her nake ain't no bigger 'n that," making a circle
+of his thumb and forefinger. "Miss Cecilia, Miss Cecilia," he shrieked
+tantalizingly, "is my sweetheart."
+
+"I'll betcher I have her fer a sweetheart soon as ever I see her," said
+Billy.
+
+"What's your name?" asked Jimmy presently.
+
+"Aunt Minerva says it's William Green Hill, but 'tain't, it's jest plain
+Billy," responded the little boy.
+
+"Ain't God a nice, good old man," remarked Billy, after they had swung
+in silence for a while, with an evident desire to make talk.
+
+"That He is," replied Jimmy, enthusiastically. "He's 'bout the
+forgivingest person ever was. I just couldn't get 'long at all 'thout
+Him. It don't make no differ'nce what you do or how many times you
+run off, all you got to do is just ask God to forgive you and tell him
+you're sorry and ain't going to do so no more, that night when you say
+your prayers, and it's all right with God. S'posing He was one of these
+wants-his-own-way kind o' mans, He could make Hi'self the troublesomest
+person ever was, and little boys couldn't do nothing a tall. I sure
+think a heap of God. He ain't never give me the worst of it yet."
+
+"I wonder what He looks like," mused Billy.
+
+"I s'pec' He just looks like the three-headed giant in Jack the
+Giant-Killer," explained Jimmy, "'cause He's got three heads and one
+body. His heads are name' Papa, Son, and Holy Ghost, and His body is
+just name' plain God. Miss Cecilia 'splained it all to me and she
+is 'bout the splendidest 'splainer they is. She's my Sunday-School
+teacher."
+
+"She's goin' to be my Sunday-School teacher, too," said Billy serenely.
+
+"Yours nothing; you all time want my Sunday-School teacher."
+
+"Jimmee!" called a voice from the interior of the house in the next
+yard.
+
+"Somebody's a-callin' you," said Billy.
+
+"That ain't nobody but mama," explained Jimmy composedly.
+
+"Jimmee-ee!" called the voice.
+
+"Don't make no noise," warned that little boy, "maybe she'll give up
+toreckly."
+
+"You Jimmee!" his mother called again.
+
+Jimmy made no move to leave the swing.
+
+"I don' never have to go 'less she says 'James Lafayette Garner,' then I
+got to hustle," he remarked.
+
+"Jimmy Garner!"
+
+"She's mighty near got me," he said softly; "but maybe she'll get tired
+and won't call no more. She ain't plumb mad yet.
+
+"James Garner!"
+
+"It's coming now," said Jimmy dolefully.
+
+The two little boys sat very still and quiet.
+
+"James Lafayette Garner!"
+
+The younger child sprang to his feet.
+
+"I got to get a move on now," he said; "when she calls like that she
+means business. I betcher she's got a switch and a hair-brush and
+a slipper in her hand right this minute. I'll be back toreckly," he
+promised.
+
+He was as good as his word, and in a very short time he was sitting
+again facing Billy in the swing.
+
+"She just wanted to know where her embroid'ry scissors was," he
+explained. "It don't matter what's lost in that house I'm always the one
+that's got to be 'sponsible and all time got to go look for it."
+
+"Did you find 'em?" asked Billy.
+
+"Yep; I went right straight where I left 'em yeste'day. I had 'em trying
+to cut a piece of wire. I stole off and went down to Sam Lamb's house
+this morning and tooken breakfast with him and his old woman, Sukey," he
+boasted.
+
+"I knows Sam Lamb," said Billy, "I rode up on the bus with him."
+
+"He's my partner," remarked Jimmy.
+
+"He's mine, too," said Billy quickly.
+
+"No, he ain't neither; you all time talking 'bout you going to have Sam
+Lamb for a partner. You want everything I got. You want Miss Cecilia and
+you want Sam Lamb. Well, you just ain't a-going to have 'em. You got to
+get somebody else for your partner and sweetheart."
+
+"Well, you jest wait an' see," said Billy. "I got Major Minerva."
+
+"Shucks, they ain't no Major name' that away," and Jimmy changed the
+subject. "Sam Lamb's sow's got seven little pigs. He lemme see 'em
+suck," said Sam Lamb's partner proudly. "He's got a cow, too; she's got
+the worrisomest horns ever was. I believe she's a steer anyway."
+
+"Shucks," said the country boy, contemptuously, "You do' know a steer
+when you see one; you can't milk no steer."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+                    TURNING ON THE HOSE
+
+
+"Look! Ain't that a snake?" shrieked Billy, pointing to what looked to
+him like a big snake coiled in the yard.
+
+"Snake, nothing!" sneered his companion, "that's a hose. You all time
+got to call a hose a snake. Come on, let's sprinkle," and Jimmy sprang
+out of the swing, jerked up the hose, and dragged it to the hydrant.
+"My mama don't never 'low me to sprinkle with her hose, but Miss Minerva
+she's so good I don' reckon she'll care," he cried mendaciously.
+
+Billy followed, watched his companion screw the hose to the faucet, and
+turn the water on. There was a hissing, gurgling sound and a stream of
+water shot out, much to the rapture of the astonished Billy.
+
+"Won't Aunt Minerva care?" he asked, anxiously. "Is she a real 'ligious
+'oman?"
+
+"She is the Christianest woman they is," announced the other child.
+"Come on, we'll sprinkle the street--and I don't want nobody to get in
+our way neither."
+
+"I wish Wilkes Booth Lincoln could see us," said Miss Minerva's nephew.
+
+A big, fat negress, with a bundle of clothes tied in a red table cloth
+on her head, came waddling down the sidewalk.
+
+Billy looked at Jimmy and giggled, Jimmy looked at Billy and giggled;
+then, the latter took careful aim and a stream of water hit the old
+woman squarely in the face.
+
+"Who dat? What's yo' doin'?" she yelled, as she backed off. "'I's
+a-gwine to tell yo' pappy, Jimmy Garner," as she recognized one of the
+culprits. "Pint dat ar ho'e 'way f'om me, 'fo' I make yo' ma spank yuh
+slabsided. I got to git home an' wash. Drap it, I tell yuh!"
+
+Two little girls rolling two doll buggies in which reposed two enormous
+rag-babies were seen approaching.
+
+"That's Lina Hamilton and Frances Black," said Jimmy, "they're my
+chums."
+
+Billy took a good look at them. "They's goin' to be my chums, too," he
+said calmly.
+
+"Your chums, nothing!" angrily cried Jimmy, swelling up pompously. "You
+all time trying to claim my chums. I can't have nothing a tall 'thout
+you got to stick your mouth in. You 'bout the selfishest boy they is.
+You want everything I got, all time."
+
+The little girls were now quite near and Jimmy hailed them gleefully,
+forgetful of his anger.
+
+"Come on, Lina, you and Frances," he shrieked, "and we can have the
+mostest fun. Billy here's done come to live with Miss Minerva and she's
+done gone up town and don't care if we sprinkle, 'cause she's got so
+much 'ligion."
+
+"But you know none of us are allowed to use a hose," objected Lina.
+
+"But it's so much fun," said Jimmy; "and Miss Minerva she's so Christian
+she ain't going to raise much of a rough-house, and if she do we can run
+when we see her coming."
+
+"I can't run," said Billy, "I ain't got nowhere to run to an'--"
+
+"If that ain't just like you, Billy," interrupted Jimmy, "all time
+talking 'bout you ain't got nowhere to run to; you don't want nobody to
+have no fun. You 'bout the picayunest boy they is."
+
+Little Ikey Rosenstein, better known as "GooseGrease," dressed in a
+cast-off suit of his big brother's, with his father's hat set rakishly
+back on his head and over his ears, was coming proudly down the street
+some distance off.
+
+"Yonder comes Goose-Grease Rosenstein," said Jimmy gleefully. "When he
+gets right close le's make him hop."
+
+"All right," agreed Billy, his good humor restored, "le's baptize him
+good."
+
+"Oh, we can't baptize him," exclaimed the other little boy, "'cause he's
+a Jew and the Bible says not to baptize Jews. You got to mesmerize
+'em. How come me to know so much?" he continued condescendingly, "Miss
+Cecilia teached me in the Sunday-School. Sometimes I know so much I
+I feel like I'm going to bust. She teached me 'bout 'Scuffle little
+chillens and forbid 'em not,' and 'bout 'Ananias telled Sapphira he done
+it with his little hatchet,' and 'bout 'Lijah jumped over the moon in a
+automobile: I know everything what's in the Bible. Miss Cecilia sure
+is a crackerjack; she's 'bout the stylishest Sunday-School teacher they
+is."
+
+"'T was the cow jumped over the moon," said Frances, "and it isn't in
+the Bible; it's in Mother Goose."
+
+"And Elijah went to Heaven in a chariot of fire," corrected Lina.
+
+"And I know all 'bout Gabr'el," continued Jimmy unabashed. "When folks
+called him to blow his trumpet he was under the haystack fast asleep."
+
+Ikey was quite near by this time to command the attention of the four
+children.
+
+"Let's mesmerize Goose-Grease," yelled Jimmy, as he turned the stream of
+water full upon him.
+
+Frances, Lina, and Billy clapped their hands and laughed for joy.
+
+With a terrified and angry shriek their victim, dripping water at every
+step, ran howling by his tormentors. When he reached a safe distance he
+turned around, shook a fist at them, and screamed back:
+
+"My papa is going to have you all arrested and locked up in the
+calaboose."
+
+"Calaboose, nothing!" jeered Jimmy. "You all time wanting to put
+somebody in the calaboose 'cause they mesmerize you. You got to be
+mesmerized 'cause it's in the Bible."
+
+A short, stout man, dressed in neat black clothes, was coming toward
+them.
+
+"Oh, that's the Major!" screamed Billy delightedly, taking the hose and
+squaring himself to greet his friend of the train, but Jimmy jerked it
+out of his hand, before either of them noticed him turning about, as if
+for something forgotten.
+
+"You ain't got the sense of a one-eyed tadpole, Billy," he said. "That's
+Miss Minerva's beau. He's been loving her more 'n a million years. My
+mama says he ain't never going to marry nobody a tall 'thout he can get
+Miss Minerva, and Miss Minerva she just turns up her nose at anything
+that wears pants. You better not sprinkle him. He's been to the war and
+got his big toe shot off. He kilt 'bout a million Injuns and Yankees
+and he's name' Major 'cause he's a Confed'rit vetrun. He went to the war
+when he ain't but fourteen."
+
+"Did he have on long pants?" asked Billy. "I call him Major Minerva--"
+
+"Gladys Maude's got the pennyskeeters," broke in Frances importantly,
+fussing over her baby, "and I'm going to see Doctor Sanford. Don't you
+think she looks pale, Jimmy?"
+
+"Pale, nothing!" sneered the little boy. "Girls got to all time play
+their dolls are sick. Naw; I don't know nothing a tall 'bout your Gladys
+Maude."
+
+Lina gazed up the street.
+
+"That looks like Miss Minerva to me 'way up yonder," she remarked. "I
+think we had better get away from here before she sees us."
+
+Two little girls rolling two doll buggies fairly flew down the street
+and one little boy quickly climbed to the top of the dividing fence.
+From this safe vantage point he shouted to Billy, who was holding the
+nozzle of the hose out of which poured a stream of water.
+
+"You 'd better turn that water off 'cause Miss Minerva's going to be
+madder 'n a green persimmon."
+
+"I do' know how to," said Billy forlornly. "You turnt it on."
+
+"Drop the hose and run to the hydrant and twist that little thing at
+the top," screamed Jimmy. "You all time got to perpose someping to get
+little boys in trouble anyway," he added ungenerously.
+
+"You perposed this yo'self," declared an indignant Billy. "You said Aunt
+Minerva's so 'ligious she wouldn't git mad."
+
+"Christian womans can get just as mad as any other kind," declared the
+other boy, sliding from his perch on the fence and running across his
+lawn to disappear behind his own front door.
+
+Holding her skirts nearly up to her knees Miss Minerva stepped gingerly
+along the wet and muddy street till she got to her gate, where her
+nephew met her, looking a little guilty, but still holding his head up
+with that characteristic, manly air which was so attractive.
+
+"William," she said sternly, "I see you have been getting into mischief,
+and I feel it my duty to punish you, so that you may learn to be
+trustworthy. I said nothing to you about the hose because I did not
+think you would know how to use it."
+
+Billy remained silent. He did not want to betray his little companions
+of the morning, so he said nothing in his own defense.
+
+"Come with me into the house," continued his aunt, "you must go to bed
+at once."
+
+But the child protested vigorously.
+
+"Don' make me go to bed in the daytime, Aunt Minerva; me an' Wilkes
+Booth Lincoln ain't never went to bed in the daytime since we's born,
+an' I ain't never hear tell of a real 'ligious 'oman a-puttin' a little
+boy in bed 'fore it's dark; an' I ain't never a-goin' to meddle with yo'
+ole hose no mo'."
+
+But Miss Minerva was obdurate, and the little boy spent a miserable hour
+between the sheets.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+                    SUCCESSFUL STRATEGY.
+
+
+"I have a present for you," said his aunt, handing Billy a long,
+rectangular package.
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said her beaming nephew as he sat down on the floor,
+all eager anticipation, and began to untie the string. His charming,
+changeful face was bright and happy again, but his expression became one
+of indignant amaze as he saw the contents of the box.
+
+"What I want with a doll?" he asked angrily, "I ain't no girl."
+
+"I think every little boy should have a doll and learn to make clothes
+for it," said Miss Minerva. "I don't want you to be a great, rough boy;
+I want you to be sweet and gentle like a little girl; I am going to
+teach you how to sew and cook and sweep, so you may grow up a comfort to
+me."
+
+This was a gloomy forecast for the little boy accustomed, as he had
+been, to the freedom of a big plantation, and he scowled darkly.
+
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hafter play with no dolls
+sence we's born," he replied sullenly, "we goes in swimmin' an' plays
+baseball. I can knock a home-run an' pitch a curve an' ketch a fly.
+Why don't you gimme a baseball bat? I already got a ball what Admiral
+Farragut gimme. An' I ain't agoin' to be no sissy neither. Lina an'
+Frances plays dolls, me an' Jimmy--" he stopped in sudden confusion.
+
+"Lina and Frances and James!" exclaimed his aunt. "What do you know
+about them, William?"
+
+The child's face flushed. "I seen 'em this mornin'," he acknowledged.
+
+Miss Minerva put a hand on either shoulder der and looked straight into
+his eyes.
+
+"William, who started that sprinkling this morning?" she questioned,
+sharply.
+
+Billy flushed guiltily and lowered his eyelids; but only for an instant.
+Quickly recovering his composure he returned her gaze steadily and
+ignored her question.
+
+"I see yo' beau too, Aunt Minerva," he remarked tranquilly.
+
+It was Miss Minerva this time who lost her composure, for her thin,
+sallow face became perfectly crimson.
+
+"My beau?" she asked confusedly. "Who put that nonsense into your head?"
+
+"Jimmy show him to me," he replied jauntily, once more master of the
+situation and in full realization of the fact. "Why don't you marry him,
+Aunt Minerva, so's he could live right here with us? An' I could learn
+him how to churn. I s'pec' he 'd make a beautiful churner. He sho' is a
+pretty little fat man," he continued flatteringly. "An' dress? That beau
+was jest dressed plumb up to the top notch. I sho' would marry him if
+I's you an' not turn up my nose at him 'cause he wears pants, an' you
+can learn him how to talk properer'n what he do an' I betcher he'd jest
+nachelly take to a broom, an' I s'pec' he ain't got nobody 'tall to show
+him how to sew. An' y' all could get the doctor to fetch you a little
+baby so he wouldn't hafter play with no doll. I sho' wisht we had him
+here," ended a selfish Billy, "he could save me a lot of steps. An'
+I sho' would like to hear 'bout all them Injuns an' Yankees what he's
+killed."
+
+Billy's aunt was visibly embarrassed.
+
+The persistent admiration of this, her one lover, had been pleasing to
+her, yet she had never been willing to sacrifice her independence for
+the cares and trials of matrimony. The existing state of affairs between
+the two was known to every one in the small town, but such was Miss
+Minerva's dignified aloofness that Billy was the first person who had
+ever dared to broach the subject to her.
+
+"Sit down here, William," she commanded, "and I will read to you."
+
+"Tell me a tale," he said, looking up at her with his bright, sweet
+smile. The doll lay neglected on a chair near by and Billy wanted her to
+forget it.
+
+"Tell me 'bout Piljerk Peter."
+
+"Piljerk Peter?" there was an interrogation in her voice.
+
+"Yas 'm. Ain't you never hear tell 'bout Piljerk Peter? He had fifteen
+chillens an' one time the las' one of 'em an' his ole 'oman was down
+with the fever an' he ain't got but one pill an' they so sick they mos'
+'bout to die an' ain't nobody in the fiel' fer to pick the cotton an' he
+can't git no doctor an' he ain't got but jest that one pill; so he tie
+that pill to a string an' let the bigges' chile swaller it an' draw it
+back up an' let the nex' chile swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let
+the nex, Chile swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex' Chile
+swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex'--."
+
+"I don't believe in telling tales to children," interrupted his aunt, "I
+will tell you biographical and historical stories and stories from the
+Bible. Now listen, while I read to you."
+
+"An' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up," continued Billy
+serenely, "an' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up tell
+finely ev'y single one of 'em, plumb down to the baby, swaller that pill
+an' the las' one of 'em got well an' that one pill it done the work.
+Then he tuck the pill and give it to his ole 'oman an' she swaller it
+an' he jerk it back up but didn't nothin' 'tall come up but jest the
+string an' his ole 'oman she died 'cause all the strenk done gone outer
+that pill."
+
+Miss Minerva opened a book called "Gems for the Household," which she
+had purchased from a silvertongued book-agent. She selected an article
+the subject of which was "The Pure in Heart."
+
+Billy listened with a seemingly attentive ear to the choice flow of
+words, but in reality his little brain was busy with its own thoughts.
+The article closed with the suggestion that if one were innocent and
+pure he would have a dreamless sleep--
+
+   "If you have a conscience clear,
+    And God's commands you keep;
+    If your heart is good and pure,
+    You will have a perfect sleep."
+
+Billy's aunt concluded. Wishing to know if he had understood what she
+had just read she asked:
+
+"What people sleep the soundest?"
+
+"Niggers," was his prompt reply, as he thought of the long summer days
+and the colored folk on the plantation.
+
+She was disappointed, but not discouraged.
+
+"Now, William," she admonished, "I'm going to read you another piece,
+and I want you to tell me about it, when I get through. Pay strict
+attention."
+
+"Yas 'm," he readily agreed.
+
+She chose an article describing the keen sense of smell in animals.
+Miss Minerva was not an entertaining reader and the words were long and
+fairly incomprehensible to the little boy sitting patiently at her side.
+
+Again his thoughts wandered, though every now and then he caught a word
+or two.
+
+"What animals have the keenest sense of smell, William?" was her query
+at the conclusion of her reading.
+
+"Billy goats," was Billy's answer without the slightest hesitation.
+
+"You have goats on the brain," she said in anger. "I did not read one
+word about billy goats."
+
+"Well, if 'taint a billy goat," he replied, "I do' know what 'tis 'thout
+it's a skunk."
+
+"I bought you a little primer this morning," she remarked after a short
+silence, "and I want you to say a lesson every day."
+
+"I already knows a lot," he boasted. "Tabernicle, he 'an' Mercantile
+both been to school an' they learnt me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln. I knows
+crooked S, an' broken back K, an' curly tail Q, an' roun' O, an' I can
+spell c-a-t cat, an' d-o-g dog an' A stands fer apple."
+
+That night he concluded his ever lengthy prayer at his kinswoman's knee
+with:
+
+"O Lord, please make for Aunt Minerva a little baby, make her two of
+'em. O Lord, if you got 'em to spare please make her three little babies
+an' let 'em all be girls so's she can learn 'em how to churn an' sew.
+An' bless Aunt Minerva and Major Minerva, f'r ever 'nd ever. Amen."
+
+As he rose from his knees he asked: "Aunt Minerva, do God work on
+Sunday?"
+
+"No-o," answered his relative, hesitatingly.
+
+"Well, it look like He'd jest hafter work on Sunday, He's so busy jest
+a-makin' babies. He makes all the niggers an' heathens an' Injuns an'
+white chillens; I reckon He gits somebody to help him. Don't you, Aunt
+Minerva?"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+                  RABBITS' AND OTHER EGGS
+
+
+Billy was sitting in the swing. Jimmy crawled over the fence and joined
+him.
+
+"Miss Cecilia's dyeing me some Easter eggs," he said, "all blue and pink
+and green and yelluh and every kind they is; I tooken her some of our
+hen's eggs and she is going to fix 'em for me and they'll be just like
+rabbit's eggs; I reckon I'll have 'bout a million. I'll give you one,"
+he added generously.
+
+"I want more 'n one," declared Billy, who was used to having the lion's
+share of everything.
+
+"You all time talking 'bout you want more 'n one egg," said Jimmy.
+"You 'bout the stingiest Peter they is. Ain't you got no eggs? Get Miss
+Minerva to give you some of hers and I'll take 'em over and ask Miss
+Cecilia to dye 'em for you 'cause you ain't 'quainted with her yet."
+
+"Aunt Minerva ain't got none 'cep'in' what she put under a of hen fer to
+set this mornin':"
+
+"Can't you get 'em from under the old hen? Miss Minerva is such a
+Christian woman, she ain't--"
+
+"You done fool me 'bout that 'ligious business befo'," interrupted
+Billy, "an' I got put to bed in the daytime."
+
+"Well, she won't never miss two or three eggs," coaxed Jimmy. "How many
+did she put under the old hen?"
+
+"She put fifteen," was the response, "an' I don't believe she'd want me
+to tech 'em."
+
+"They 're 'bout the prettiest eggs ever was," continued the tempter,
+"all blue and pink and green, and 'bout a million kinds. They're just
+perzactly like rabbit's eggs."
+
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hear teller no rabbit's eggs
+sence we's born," said Billy; "I don't berlieve rabbits lays eggs
+nohow."
+
+"They don' lay 'em 'cept to Easter," said Jimmy. "Miss Cecilia 'splained
+it all to me and she's my Sunday-School teacher and rabbits is bound
+to lay eggs 'cause it's in the Bible and she's 'bout the prettiest
+'splainer they is. I'm going over there now to see 'bout my eggs," and
+he made believe to leave the swing.
+
+"Le's us slip roun' to the hen-house an' see what the of hen's a-doin',"
+suggested the sorely tempted Billy. "Aunt Minerva is a-makin' me some
+nightshirts an' she ain't takin' no notice of nothin' else."
+
+They tiptoed stealthily around the house to the back-yard, but found the
+hen-house door locked.
+
+"Can't you get the key?" asked the younger child.
+
+"Naw, I can't," replied the other boy, "but you can git in th'oo
+this-here little hole what the chickens goes in at, whiles I watches fer
+Aunt Minerva. I'll stand right here an' hol' my cap whiles you fetches
+me the eggs. An' don't you take more 'n five or six," he warned.
+
+"I'm skeered of the old hen," objected Jimmy. "Is she much of a pecker?"
+
+"Naw, she ain't a-goin' to hurt you," was the encouraging reply. "Git up
+an' crawl th'oo; I'll help you."
+
+Billy, having overcome his scruples, now entered into the undertaking
+with great zest.
+
+Jimmy climbed the chicken ladder, kicked his chubby legs through the
+aperture, hung suspended on his fat little middle for an instant, and
+finally, with much panting and tugging, wriggled his plump, round body
+into the hen-house. He walked over where a lonesome looking hen was
+sitting patiently on a nest. He put out a cautious hand and the hen
+promptly gave it a vicious peck.
+
+"Billy," he called angrily, "you got to come in here and hold this old
+chicken; she's 'bout the terriblest pecker they is."
+
+Billy stuck his head in the little square hole. "Go at her from behind,"
+he suggested; "put yo' hand under her easy like, an' don' let her know
+what you's up to."
+
+Jimmy tried to follow these instructions, but received another peck for
+his pains. He promptly mutinied.
+
+"If you want any eggs," he declared, scowling at the face framed in
+the aperture, "you can come get 'em yourself. I done monkeyed with this
+chicken all I'm going to."
+
+So Billy climbed up and easily got his lean little body through the
+opening. He dexterously caught the hen by the nape of the neck, as he
+had seen Aunt Cindy do, while Jimmy reached for the eggs.
+
+"If we ain't done lef' my cap outside on the groun'," said Billy. "What
+we goin' to put the eggs in?"
+
+"Well, that's just like you, Billy, you all time got to leave your cap
+on the ground. I'll put 'em in my blouse till you get outside and then
+I'll hand 'em to you. How many you going to take?"
+
+"We might just as well git 'em all now," said Billy. "Aunt Cindy say
+they's some kinder hens won't lay no chickens 't all if folks put they
+hands in they nests an' this here hen look like to me she's one of them
+kind, so the rester the egg'll jest be waste, any how, 'cause you done
+put yo' han's in her nes', an' a dominicker ain't a-goin' to stan' no
+projeckin' with her eggs. Hurry up."
+
+Jimmy carefully distributed the eggs inside his blouse, and Billy once
+more crawled through the hole and stood on the outside waiting, cap in
+hand, to receive them.
+
+But the patient hen had at last raised her voice in angry protest and
+set up a furious cackling, which so frightened the little boy on the
+inside that he was panic-stricken. He caught hold of a low roost pole,
+swung himself up and, wholly unmindful of his blouse full of eggs,
+pushed his lower limbs through the hole and stuck fast. A pair of
+chubby, sturdy legs, down which were slowly trickling little yellow
+rivulets, and half of a plump, round body were all that would go
+through.
+
+"Pull!" yelled the owner of the short fat legs. "I'm stuck and can't go
+no furder. Pull me th'oo, Billy."
+
+About this time the defrauded fowl flew from her nest and attempted
+to get out by her rightful exit. Finding it stopped up by a wriggling,
+squirming body she perched herself on the little boy's neck and flapped
+her enraged wings in his face.
+
+"Pull!" yelled the child again, "help me th'oo, Billy, 'fore this fool
+chicken pecks all the meat off 'm my bones."
+
+Billy grabbed the sticky limbs and gave a valiant tug, but the body did
+not move an inch. Alas, Jimmy with his cargo of broken eggs was fast
+imprisoned.
+
+"Pull again!" yelled the scared and angry child, "you 'bout the idjetest
+idjet they is if you can't do no better 'n that."
+
+Billy jerked with all his strength, but with no visible result.
+
+"Pull harder! You no-count gump!" screamed the prisoner, beating off the
+hen with his hands.
+
+The boy on the outside, who was strong for his years, braced himself
+and gave a mighty wrench of the other child's stout extremities. Jimmy
+howled in pain and gave his friend an energetic kick.
+
+"Lemme go!" he shrieked, "you old impe'dunt backbiter. I'm going to tell
+Miss Minerva you pulled my legs out by the roots."
+
+A small portion of the prisoner's blouse was visible. Billy caught hold
+of it and gave a strong jerk. There was a sound of ripping and tearing
+and the older boy fell sprawling on his back with a goodly portion of
+the younger child's raiment in his hands.
+
+"Now see what you done," yelled the victim of his energy, "you ain't
+got the sense of a buffalo gnat. Oh! oh! This hole is 'bout to cut my
+stomach open."
+
+"Hush, Jimmy!" warned the other child. "Don't make so much noise. Aunt
+Minerva'll hear you."
+
+"I want her to hear me," screamed Jimmy. "You'd like me to stay stuck in
+a chicken hole all night. Oh! oh! oh!"
+
+The noise did indeed bring Billy's aunt out on a tour of investigation.
+She had to knock a plank off the hen-house with an axe before Jimmy's
+release could be accomplished. He was lifted down, red, angry, sticky,
+and perspiring, and was indeed a sight to behold.
+
+"Billy got to all time perpose something to get little boys in
+trouble," he growled, "and got to all time get 'em stuck in a hole in a
+chicken-house."
+
+"My nephew's name is William," corrected she.
+
+"You perposed this here yo'self!" cried an indignant Billy. "Me an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln don' know nothin' 't all 'bout no rabbit's eggs
+sence we's born."
+
+"It doesn't matter who proposed it," said his aunt firmly. "You
+are going to be punished, William. I have just finished one of your
+night-shirts. Come with me and put it on and go to bed. Jimmy, you go
+home and show yourself to your mother."
+
+"Pick up yo' shirt-tail offer the groun' what I tore off, Jimmy,"
+advised Billy, "an' take it home to yo' ma. Aunt Minerva," he pleaded,
+following mournfully behind her, "please don't put me to bed; the Major
+he don' go to bed no daytimes; I won't never get me no mo' eggs to make
+rabbit's eggs outer."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+                      TELLERS OF TALES
+
+
+The days flew rapidly by. Miss Minerva usually attempted to train Billy
+all the morning, and by the midday dinner hour she was so exhausted that
+she was glad to let him play in the front yard during the afternoon.
+
+Here he was often joined by the three children whose acquaintance he had
+made the day after his arrival, and the quartette became staunch friends
+and chums.
+
+All four were sitting in the swing one warm spring day, under the
+surveillance of Billy's aunt, sewing on the veranda.
+
+"Let's tell tales," suggested Jimmy.
+
+"All right," agreed Frances. "I'll tell the first. Once there's--"
+
+"Naw, you ain't neither," interrupted the little boy. "You all time
+talking 'bout you going to tell the first tale. I'm going to tell the
+first tale myself. One time they's--"
+
+"No, you are not either," said Lina positively. "Frances is a girl and
+she ought to be the first if she wants to. Don't you think so, Billy?"
+
+"Yas, I does," championed he; "go on, Frances."
+
+That little girl, thus encouraged, proceeded to tell the first tale:
+
+"Once there's a man named Mr. Elisha, and he had a friend named
+Mr. Elijah, so his mantelpiece fell on top of his head and make him
+perfectly bald; he hasn't got a single hair and he hasn't got any money,
+'cause mama read me 'bout he rented his garments, which is clo'es,
+'cause he didn't have none at all what belong to him. I spec' he just
+rented him a shirt and a pair o' breeches and wore 'em next to his hide
+'thout no undershirt at all. He was drea'ful poor and had a miser'ble
+time and old mean Mr. Per'dventure took him up on a high mountain and
+left him, so when he come down some bad little childern say, 'Go 'long
+back, bald head!' and they make pockmocks on him. Seems like everybody
+treat him bad, so he cuss 'em, so I never see anybody with a bald head
+'thout I run, 'cause I don't want to get cussed. So two Teddy bears come
+out of the woods and ate up forty-two hunderd of--"
+
+"Why, Frances," reproved Lina, "you always get things wrong. I don't
+believe they ate up that many children."
+
+"Yes, they did too," championed Jimmy, "'cause it's in the Bible and
+Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout it to me, and she's our Sunday-School
+teacher and 'bout the bullyest 'splainer they is. Them Teddy bears ate
+up 'bout a million chillens, which is all the little boys and girls two
+Teddy bears can hold at a time."
+
+"I knows a man what ain't got no hair 't all on his head," remarked
+Billy; "he's a conjure-man an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been talkin'
+to him ever sence we's born an' he ain't never cuss us, an' I ain't
+never got eat up by no Teddy bears neither. Huccome him to be bald? He's
+out in the fiel' one day a-pickin' cotton when he see a tu'key buzzard
+an' he talk to her like this:
+
+    "'I say tu'key buzzard, I say,
+     Who shall I see unexpected today?'
+
+"If she flop her wings three times you goin' to see yo' sweetheart, but
+this-here buzzard ain't flop no wings 't all; she jes' lean over an'
+th'ow up on his head an' he been bald ever sence; ev'y single hair come
+out."
+
+"Did you-all hear 'bout that 'Talian Dago that works on the section gang
+eating a buzzard?" asked Frances.
+
+"Naw," said Billy. "Did it make him sick?"
+
+"That it did," she answered; "he sent for Doctor Sanford and tells
+him, 'Me killa de big bird, me eat-a de big bird, de big bird make-a me
+seek."'
+
+"Them Dagoes 'bout the funniest talking folks they is," said Jimmy, "but
+they got to talk that way 'cause it's in the Bible. They 'sputed on the
+tower of Babel and the Lord say 'Confound you!' Miss Cecilia 'splained
+it all to me and she's 'bout the dandiest 'splainer they is."
+
+"You may tell your tale now, Jimmy," said Lina.
+
+"I'm going to tell 'bout William Tell 'cause he's in the Bible," said
+Jimmy. "Once they's a man name'--"
+
+"William Tell isn't in the Bible," declared Lina.
+
+"Yes, he is too," contended the little boy, "Miss Cecilia 'splained
+it to me. You all time setting yourself up to know more'n me and Miss
+Cecilia. One time they's a man name' William Tell and he had a little
+boy what's the cutest kid they is and the Devil come 'long and temp'
+him. Then the Lord say, 'William Tell, you and Adam and Eve can taste
+everything they is in the garden 'cepting this one apple tree; you can
+get all the pears and bunnanas and peaches and grapes and oranges and
+plums and persimmons and scalybarks and fig leaves and 'bout a million
+other kinds of fruit if you want to, but don't you tech a single apple.'
+And the Devil temp' him and say he going to put his cap on a pole and
+everybody got to bow down to it for a idol and if William Tell don't bow
+down to it he got to shoot a apple for good or evil off 'm his little
+boy's head. That's all the little boy William Tell and Adam and Eve
+got, but he ain't going to fall down and worship no gravy image on top a
+pole, so he put a tomahawk in his bosom and he tooken his bow and arrur
+and shot the apple plumb th'oo the middle and never swinge a hair of his
+head. And Eve nibble off the apple and give Adam the core, and Lina all
+time 'sputing 'bout Adam and Eve and William Tell ain't in the Bible.
+They 're our first parents."
+
+"Now, Billy, you tell a tale and then it will be my time," said Lina
+with a savingthe-best-for-the-last air.
+
+"Once they was a of witch," said Billy, "what got outer her skin ev'y
+night an' lef' it on the he'rth an' turnt herself to a great, big, black
+cat an' go up the chim'ly an' go roun' an' ride folks fer horses, an'
+set on ev'ybody's chis' an' suck they breath an' kill 'em an' then come
+back to bed. An' can't nobody ketch her tell one night her husban' watch
+her an' he see her jump outer her skin an' drop it on the he'rth an'
+turn to a 'normous black cat an' go up the chim'ly. An' he got outer the
+bed an' put some salt an' pepper an' vinegar on the skin an' she come
+back an' turnt to a 'oman an' try to git back in her skin an' she can't
+'cause the salt an' pepper an' vinegar mos' burn her up, an' she keep on
+a-tryin' an' she can't never snuggle inter her skin 'cause it keep on a
+burnin' worser 'n ever, an' there she is a 'oman 'thout no skin on.
+So she try to turn back to a cat an' she can't 'cause it's pas' twelve
+erclock, an' she jest swivvle an' swivvle tell fine'ly she jest swivvle
+all up. An' that was the las' of the ole witch an' her husban' live
+happy ever after. Amen."
+
+"Once upon a time," said Lina, "there was a beautiful maiden and she
+was in love, but her wicked old parent wants her to marry a rich old
+man threescore and ten years old, which is 'most all the old you can get
+unless you are going to die; and the lovely princess said, 'No, father,
+you may cut me in the twain but I will never marry any but my true
+love.' So the wicked parent shut up the lovely maiden in a high tower
+many miles from the ground, and made her live on turnips and she had
+nothing else to eat; so one day when she was crying a little fairy flew
+in at the window and asked, 'Why do you weep, fair one?' And she said,
+'A wicked parent hath shut me up and I can't ever see my lover any
+more.' So the fairy touched her head with her wand and told her to hang
+her hair out of the window, and she did and it reached the ground, and
+her lover, holding a rope ladder in one hand and playing the guitar and
+singing with the other, climbed up by her hair and took her down on
+the ladder and his big black horse was standing near, all booted and
+spurred, and they rode away and lived happy ever after."
+
+"How he goin' to clam' up, Lina," asked Billy, "with a rope ladder in
+one hand and his guitar in the other?"
+
+"I don't know," was the dignified answer. "That is the way it is told in
+my fairy-tale book."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+                   CHANGING THE ETHIOPIAN
+
+
+Billy and Jimmy were sitting in the swing.
+
+"What makes your hair curl just like a girl's?" asked the latter. "It's
+'bout the curliest hair they is."
+
+"Yes, it do," was Billy's mournful response. "It done worry me 'mos'
+to death. Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born we done try
+ev'ything fer to get the curl out. They was a Yankee man came 'long las'
+fall a-sellin' some stuff in a bottle what he call 'No-To-Kink' what he
+say would take the kink outer any nigger's head. An' Aunt Cindy bought
+a bottle fer to take the kink outer her hair an' me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln put some on us heads an' it jes' make mine curlier 'n what it
+was already. I's 'shame' to go roun' folks with my cap off, a-lookin'
+like a frizzly chicken. Miss Cecilia say she like it though, an' we's
+engaged. We's goin' to git married soon's I puts on long pants."
+
+"How long you been here, Billy?" asked the other boy.
+
+"Well, I don't know perxactly, but I been to Sunday-School four times.
+I got engaged to Miss Cecilia that very firs' Sunday, but she didn' know
+it tell I went over to her house the nex' day an' tol' her 'bout it. She
+say she think my hair is so pretty."
+
+"Pretty nothin'," sneered his rival. "She jus' stuffin' you fuller 'n a
+tick with hot air. It just makes you look like a girl. There's a young
+lady come to spend a week with my mama not long ago and she put somepin'
+on her head to make it right yeller. She left the bottle to our house
+and I know where 't is. Maybe if you'd put some o' that on your head 't
+would take the curl out."
+
+"'Tain't nothin' a-goin' to do it no good," gloomily replied Billy.
+"'Twould jest make it yeller 'n what 'tis now. Won't I be a pretty sight
+when I puts on long pants with these here yaller curls stuck on topper
+my head? I'd 'nuther sight ruther be bal'headed."
+
+"Bennie Dick's got 'bout the kinkiest head they is."
+
+Bennie Dick was the two-year-old baby of Mrs. Garner's cook, Sarah Jane.
+
+"It sho' is," replied Billy. "Wouldn't he look funny if he had yaller
+hair, 'cause his face is so black?"
+
+"I know where the bottle is," cried Jimmy, snatching eagerly at the
+suggestion. "Let's go get it and put some on Bennie Dick's head and see
+if it'll turn it yeller."
+
+"Aunt Minerva don' want me to go over to yo' house," objected Billy.
+
+"You all time talking 'bout Miss Minerva won't let you go nowheres; she
+sure is imperdunt to you. You 'bout the 'fraidest boy they is.... Come
+on, Billy," pleaded Jimmy.
+
+The little boy hesitated.
+
+"I don't want to git Aunt Minerva's dander der up any more 'n I jest
+natchelly boun' to," he said, following Jimmy reluctantly to the fence;
+"but I'll jes' take a look at that bottle an' see ef it looks anything
+'t all like 'No-To-Kink'."
+
+Giggling mightily, they jumped the dividing fence and slipped with
+stealthy tread around the house to Sarah Jane's cabin in the back-yard.
+
+Bennie Dick was sitting on the floor before the open door, the entrance
+of which was, securely barricaded to keep him inside. Sarah Jane was in
+the kitchen cooking supper; they could hear her happy voice raised in
+religious melody; Mrs. Garner had not yet returned from a card party;
+the coast was clear, and the time propitious.
+
+Jimmy tiptoed to the house and soon returned with a big bottle of a
+powerful "blondine" in one hand and a stick of candy in the other.
+
+"Bennie Dick," he said, "here's a nice stick of candy for you if you'll
+let us wash your head."
+
+The negro baby's thick, red lips curved in a grin of delight, his shiny
+ebony face beamed happily, his round black eyes sparkled as he held out
+his fat, rusty little hands. He sucked greedily at the candy as the
+two mischievous little boys uncorked the bottle and, poured a generous
+supply of the liquid on his head. They rubbed it in well, grinning with
+delight. They made a second and a third application before the bottle
+was exhausted; then they stood off to view the result of their efforts.
+The effect was ludicrous. The combination of coal black skin and
+red gold hair presented by the little negro exceeded the wildest
+expectations of Jimmy and Billy. They shrieked with laughter and rolled
+over and over on the floor in their unbounded delight.
+
+"Hush!" warned Jimmy suddenly, "I believe Sarah Jane's coming out here
+to see 'bout Benny Dick. Let's get behind the door and see what she's
+going to do."
+
+    "'Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      An' hit's good ernough fer me.'"
+
+floated Sarah Jane's song nearer and nearer.
+
+    "'Hit's de ole time erligion,
+      Hit's de ole time'"
+
+She caught sight of her baby with his glistening black face and golden
+hair. She threw up her hands, closed her eyes, and uttered a terrified
+shriek. Presently she slowly opened her eyes and took a second peep at
+her curious-looking offspring. Sarah Jane screamed aloud:
+
+"Hit's de handiwork er de great Jehoshaphat! Hit's de Marster's
+sign. Who turnt yo' hair, Benny Dick?" she asked of the sticky little
+pickaninny sitting happily on the floor. "Is a angel been here?"
+
+Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of comprehension.
+
+"Hit's de doing er de Lord," cried his mother. "He gwine turn my chile
+white an' he done begunt on his head!"
+
+There was an ecstatic giggle from behind the door.
+
+Sarah Jane rushed inside as fast as her mammoth proportions would admit
+and caught a culprit in each huge black paw.
+
+"What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?" she asked. "What yer been
+er-doing?"
+
+Sudden suspicion entered her mind as she caught sight of the empty
+bottle lying on a chair. "You been er-putting' suthin' on my chile's
+head! I knows yer, I's er-gwine ter make yo' mammy gi' ye de worses'
+whippin' yer eber got an' I's gwine ter take dis here William right ober
+ter Miss Minerva. Ain't y' all 'shame' er yerselves? Er tamperin' wid de
+ha'r what de good Lord put on er colored pusson's head an' ertryin' fer
+ter scarify my feelin's like yer done. An' yer hear me, I's gwine see
+dat somebody got ter scarify yer hides."
+
+"If that ain't just like you, Billy," said Jimmy, "you all time got to
+perpose to make nigger heads yeller and you all time getting little boys
+in trouble. You 'bout the smart Alexist jack-rabbit they is."
+
+"You perposed this here hair business yo'self, Jimmy," retorted his
+fellow-conspirator. "You's always blamin' yo' meanness on somebody else
+ever sence you's born."
+
+"Hit don't matter who perposed hit," said Sarah Jane firmly; "meanness
+has been did, an' y' all gotter be structified on de place pervided by
+natur fer ter lem my chile erlone."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+                    LO! THE POOR INDIANS
+
+
+Billy had just decided to run down to the livery stable to pay Sam Lamb
+a visit when the gate opened, and Lina and Frances, their beloved dolls
+in their arms, came skipping in.
+
+Jimmy, who had had a difference with Billy and was in the sulks on his
+own side of the fence, immediately crawled over and joined the others
+in the swing. He was lonesome and the prospect of companionship was too
+alluring for him to nurse his anger longer.
+
+"Aunt Minerva's gone to the Aid Society," remarked the host. "Don't y'
+all wish it met ev'y day 'stid 'er jes' meetin' ev'y Monday?"
+
+"Yes, I do," agreed Frances, "you can have so much fun when our mamas
+go to the Aid. My mama's gone too, so she left me with Brother and he's
+writing a love letter to Ruth Shelton, so I slipped off."
+
+"Mother has gone to the Aid, too," said Lina.
+
+"My mama too," chimed in Jimmy, "she goes to the Aid every Monday and to
+card parties nearly all the time. She telled Sarah Jane to 'tend to me
+and Sarah Jane's asleep. I hear her snoring. Ain't we glad there ain't
+no grown folks to meddle? Can't we have fun?"
+
+"What'll we play?" asked Frances, who had deliberately stepped in a mud
+puddle on the way, and splashed mud all over herself, "let's make mud
+pies."
+
+"Naw, we ain't a-going to make no mud pies," objected Jimmy. "We can
+make mud pies all time when grown folks 'r' looking at you."
+
+"Le's's play sumpin' what we ain't never play, sence we 's born," put in
+Billy.
+
+"I hope grandmother won't miss me." said Lina, "she 's reading a very
+interesting book."
+
+"Let's play Injun!" yelled Jimmy; "we ain't never play' Injun."
+
+This suggestion was received with howls of delight.
+
+"My mama's got a box of red stuff that she puts on her face when she
+goes to the card parties. She never puts none on when she just goes to
+the Aid. I can run home and get the box to make us red like Injuns,"
+said Frances.
+
+"My mother has a box of paint, too."
+
+"I ain't never see Aunt Minerva put no red stuff on her face," remarked
+Billy, disappointedly.
+
+"Miss Minerva, she don't never let the Major come to see her, nor go
+to no card parties is the reason," explained the younger boy, "she just
+goes to the Aid where they ain't no men, and you don't hafter put no red
+on your face at the Aid. We'll let you have some of our paint, Billy. My
+mama's got 'bout a million diff'ent kinds."
+
+"We got to have pipes," was Frances's next suggestion.
+
+"My papa's got 'bout a million pipes," boasted Jimmy, "but he got 'em
+all to the office, I spec'."
+
+"Father has a meerschaum."
+
+"Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe."
+
+"Miss Minerva's 'bout the curiousest woman they is," said Jimmy; "she
+ain't got nothing a tall; she ain't got no paint and she ain't got no
+pipe."
+
+"Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway," said Lina,
+"but we must have feathers; all Indians wear feathers."
+
+"I'll get my mama's duster," said Jimmy.
+
+"Me, too," chimed in Frances.
+
+Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss
+Minerva's waning reputation.
+
+"Aunt Minerva's got a great, big buncher tu'key feathers an' I can git
+'em right now," and the little boy flew into the house and was back in a
+few seconds.
+
+"We must have blankets, of course," said Lina, with the air of one whose
+word is law; "mother has a genuine Navajo."
+
+"I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me," put in Jimmy.
+
+"We can use hatchets for tomahawks," continued the little girl. "Come
+on, Frances; let us go home and get our things and come back here to
+dress up. Run, Jimmy, get your things! You, too, Billy!" she commanded.
+
+The children ran breathlessly to their homes nearby and collected the
+different articles necessary to transform them into presentable Indians.
+They soon returned, Jimmy dumping his load over the fence and tumbling
+after; and the happy quartette sat down on the grass in Miss Minerva's
+yard. First the paint boxes were opened and generously shared with
+Billy, as with their handkerchiefs they spread thick layers of rouge
+over their charming, bright, mischievous little faces.
+
+The feather decoration was next in order.
+
+"How we goin' to make these feathers stick?" asked Billy.
+
+They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the rescue.
+
+"Wait a minute," he cried, "I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Jack
+Robinson'."
+
+He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully
+holding up a bottle.
+
+"This muc'lage'll make 'em stick," he panted, almost out of breath.
+
+Lina assumed charge of the head-dresses. She took Billy first, rubbed
+the mucilage well into his sunny curls, and filled his head full of
+his aunt's turkey feathers, leaving them to stick out awkwardly in all
+directions and at all angles. Jimmy and Frances, after robbing their
+mothers' dusters, were similarly decorated, and last, Lina, herself, was
+tastefully arrayed by the combined efforts of the other three.
+
+At last all was in readiness.
+
+Billy, regardless of consequences, had pinned his aunt's newest grey
+blanket around him and was viewing, with satisfied admiration, its long
+length trailing on the-grass behind him; Lina had her mother's treasured
+Navajo blanket draped around her graceful little figure; Frances, after
+pulling the covers off of several beds and finding nothing to suit her
+fanciful taste, had snatched a gorgeous silk afghan from the leather
+couch in the library. It was an expensive affair of intricate pattern,
+delicate stitches; and beautiful embroidery with a purple velvet border
+and a yellow satin lining. She had dragged one corner of it through the
+mud puddle and torn a big rent in another place.
+
+Jimmy was glorious in a bright red blanket, carrying his little bow and
+arrow.
+
+"I'm going to be the Injun chief," he boasted.
+
+"I'm going to be a Injun chief, too," parroted Frances.
+
+"Chief, nothing!" he sneered, "you all time trying to be a Injun chief.
+You 'bout the pompousest little girl they is. You can't be a chief
+nohow; you got to be a squash, Injun ladies 'r' name' squashes; me an'
+Billy's the chiefs. I'm name' old Setting Bull, hi'self."
+
+"You can't be named 'Bull,' Jimmy," reproved Lina, "it isn't genteel to
+say 'bull' before people."
+
+"Yes, I am too," he contended. "Setting Bull's the biggest chief they is
+and I'm going to be name' him."
+
+"Well, I am not going to play then," said Lina primly, "my mother wants
+me to be genteel, and 'bull' is not genteel."
+
+"I tell you what, Jimmy," proposed Frances, "you be name' 'Setting Cow.
+'Cow' is genteel 'cause folks milk 'em."
+
+"Naw, I ain't going to be name' no cow, neither," retorted the little
+Indian, "you all time trying to 'suade somebody to be name' 'Setting
+Cow'."
+
+"He can't be name' a cow,"--Billy now entered into the
+discussion--"'cause he ain't no girl. Why don' you be name' 'Settin'
+Steer'? Is 'steer' genteel, Lina?" he anxiously inquired.
+
+"Yes, he can be named 'Sitting Steer'," she granted. Jimmy agreeing to
+the compromise, peace was once more restored.
+
+"Frances and Lina got to be the squashes," he began.
+
+"It isn't 'squashes,' it is 'squaws,"' corrected Lina.
+
+"Yes, 'tis squashes too," persisted Jimmy, "'cause it's in the Bible
+and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she's 'bout the high-steppingest
+'splainer they is. Me and Billy is the chiefs," he shouted, capering
+around, "and you and Frances is the squashes and got to have papooses
+strop' to your back."
+
+"Bennie Dick can be a papoose," suggested Billy.
+
+"I'm not going to be a Injun squash if I got to have a nigger papoose
+strapped to my back!" cried an indignant Frances. "You can strap him to
+your own back, Billy."
+
+"But I ain't no squash," objected that little Indian.
+
+"We can have our dolls for papooses," said Lina, going to the swing
+where the dolls had been left. Billy pulled a piece of string from his
+pocket and the babies were safely strapped to their mothers' backs. With
+stately tread, headed by Sitting Steer, the children marched back and
+forth across the lawn in Indian file.
+
+So absorbed were they in playing Indian that they forgot the flight of
+time until their chief suddenly stopped, all his brave valor gone as he
+pointed with trembling finger up the street.
+
+That part of the Ladies' Aid Society which lived in West Covington was
+bearing down upon them.
+
+"Yonder's our mamas and Miss Minerva," he whispered. "Now look what a
+mess Billy's done got us in; he all time got to perpose someping to get
+chillens in trouble and he all time got to let grown folks ketch em."
+
+"Aren't you ashamed to tell such a story, Jimmy Garner?" cried
+Frances. "Billy didn't propose any such thing. Come on, let's run," she
+suggested.
+
+"'Tain't no use to run," advised Jimmy. "They're too close and done
+already see us. We boun' to get what's coming to us anyway, so you might
+jus' as well make 'em think you ain't 'fraid of 'em. Grown folks got to
+all time think little boys and girls 'r' skeered of 'em, anyhow."
+
+"Aunt Minerva'll sho' put me to bed this time," said Billy. "Look like
+ev'y day I gotter go to bed."
+
+"Mother will make me study the catechism all day to-morrow," said Lina
+dismally.
+
+"Mama'll lock me up in the little closet under the stairway," said
+Frances.
+
+"My mama'll gimme 'bout a million licks and try to take all the hide off
+o' me," said Jimmy; "but we done had a heap of fun."
+
+It was some hours later. Billy's aunt had ruthlessly clipped the turkey
+feathers from his head, taking the hair off in great patches. She had
+then boiled his scalp, so the little boy thought, in her efforts to
+remove the mucilage. Now, shorn of his locks and of some of his courage,
+the child was sitting quietly by her side, listening to a superior
+moral lecture and indulging in a compulsory heart-to-heart talk with his
+relative.
+
+"I don't see that it does you any good, William, to put you to bed."
+
+"I don' see as it do neither," agreed Billy.
+
+"I can not whip you; I am constitutionally opposed to corporal
+punishment for children."
+
+"I's 'posed to it too," he assented.
+
+"I believe I will hire a servant, so that I may devote my entire time to
+your training."
+
+This prospect for the future did not appeal to her nephew. On the
+contrary it filled him with alarm.
+
+"A husban' 'd be another sight handier," he declared with energy; "he
+'d be a heap mo' 'count to you 'n a cook, Aunt Minerva. There's that
+Major--"
+
+"You will never make a preacher of yourself, William, unless you
+improve."
+
+The child looked up at her in astonishment; this was the first he knew
+of his being destined for the ministry.
+
+"A preacher what 'zorts an' calls up mourners?" he said,--"not on yo'
+tin-type. Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln--"
+
+"How many times have I expressed the wish not to have you bring that
+negro's name into the conversation?" she impatiently interrupted.
+
+"I don' perzactly know, 'm," he answered good humoredly, "'bout
+fifty hunerd, I reckon. Anyways, Aunt Minerva, I ain't goin' to be no
+preacher. When I puts on long pants I's goin' to be a Confedrit Vet'run
+an' kill 'bout fifty hunderd Yankees an' Injuns, like my Major man."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+                     NOW RIDDLE ME THIS
+
+
+The children were sitting in the swing. Florence Hammer, a little girl
+whose mother was spending the day at Miss Minerva's, was with them.
+
+"Don't you-all wish Santa Claus had his birthday right now 'stead 'o
+waiting till Christmas to hang up our stockings?" asked Frances.
+
+"Christmas isn't Santa Claus' birthday," corrected Lina. "God was born
+on Christmas and that's the reason we hang up our stockings."
+
+"Yes; it is old Santa's birthday, too," argued Jimmy, "'cause it's in
+the Bible and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she 'bout the dandiest
+'splainer they is."
+
+"Which you-all like the best: God or Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus?"
+asked Florence.
+
+"I like God 'nother sight better 'n I do anybody," declared Jimmy,
+"'cause He so forgivingsome. He's 'bout the forgivingest person they is.
+Santa Claus can't let you go to Heaven nor Doctor Sanford neither, nor
+our papas and mamas nor Miss Minerva. Now wouldn't we be in a pretty fix
+if we had to 'pend on Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus to forgive you every
+time you run off or fall down and bust your breeches. Naw; gimme God evy
+time."
+
+"I like Santa Claus the best," declared Frances, "'cause he isn't
+f'rever getting in your way, and hasn't any castor oil like Doctor
+Sanford, and you don't f'rever have to be telling him you're sorry you
+did what you did, and he hasn't all time got one eye on you either, like
+God, and got to follow you 'round. And Santa Claus don't all time say,
+Shet your eyes and open your mouth,' like Doctor Sanford, 'and poke out
+your tongue.'"
+
+"I like Doctor Sanford the best," said Florence, "'cause he 's my uncle,
+and God and Santa Claus ain't kin to me."
+
+"And the Bible say, 'Love your kin-folks,' Miss Cecilia 'splained--"
+
+"I use to like my Uncle Doc' heap better 'n what I do now," went on the
+little girl, heedless of Jimmy's interruption, "till I went with daddy
+to his office one day. And what you reckon that man's got in his office?
+He's got a dead man 'thout no meat nor clo'es on, nothing a tall but
+just his bones."
+
+"Was he a hant?" asked Billy. "I like the Major best--he 's got meat
+on."
+
+"Naw; he didn't have no sheet on--just bones," was the reply.
+
+"No sheet on; no meat on!" chirruped Billy, glad of the rhyme.
+
+"Was he a angel, Florence?" questioned Frances.
+
+"Naw; he didn't have no harp and no wings neither."
+
+"It must have been a skeleton," explained Lina.
+
+"And Uncle Doc' just keeps that poor man there and won't let him go to
+Heaven where dead folks b'longs."
+
+"I spec' he wasn't a good man 'fore he died and got to go to the Bad
+Place," suggested Frances.
+
+"I'll betcher he never asked God to forgive him when he 'ceived his
+papa and sassed his mama,"--this from Jimmy, "and Doctor Sanford's just
+a-keeping old Satan from getting him to toast on a pitchfork."
+
+"I hope they'll have a Christmas tree at Sunday-School next Christmas,"
+said Frances, harking back, "and I hope I'll get a heap o' things like
+I did last Christmas. Poor little Tommy Knott he's so skeered he wasn't
+going to get nothing at all on the tree so he got him a great, big,
+red apple an' he wrote on a piece o' paper 'From Tommy Knott to Tommy
+Knott,' and tied it to the apple and put it on the tree for hi'self."
+
+"Let's ask riddles," suggested Lina.
+
+"All right," shouted Frances, "I'm going to ask the first."
+
+"Naw; you ain't neither," objected Jimmy. "You all time got to ask the
+first riddle. I'm going to ask the first one--
+
+    "'Round as a biscuit, busy as a bee,
+      Prettiest little thing you ever did see?'--
+                                      'A watch.'
+
+    "Humpty Dumpty set on a wall,
+     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
+     All the king's horses and all the king's men
+     Can't put Humpty Dumpty back again.'
+                                      'A egg.'
+
+    "'Round as a ring, deep as a cup,
+      All the king's horses can't pull it up.'
+                                      'A well.'
+
+    "'House full, yard full, can't ketch--'"
+
+"Hush, Jimmy!" cried Lina, in disgust. "You don't know how to ask
+riddles. You must n't give the answers, too. Ask one riddle at a time
+and let some one else answer it. I'll ask one and see who can answer it:
+
+    "'As I was going through a field of wheat
+      I picked up something good to eat,
+     'Twas neither fish nor flesh nor bone,
+      I kept it till it ran alone?'"
+
+"A snake! A snake!" guessed Florence. "That's a easy riddle."
+
+"Snake, nothing!" scoffed Jimmy, "you can't eat a snake. 'Sides Lina
+wouldn't 'a' picked up a snake. Is it a little baby rabbit, Lina?"
+
+"It was neither fish nor flesh nor bone," she declared; "and a rabbit is
+flesh and bone."
+
+"Then it's boun' to be a apple," was Jimmy's next guess; "that ain't no
+flesh and blood and it's good to eat."
+
+"An apple can't run alone," she triumphantly answered. "Give it up?
+Well, it was an egg and it hatched to a chicken. Now, Florence, you ask
+one."
+
+"S'pose a man was locked up in a house," she asked, "how'd he get out?"
+
+"Clam' outer a winder," guessed Billy.
+
+"'Twa'n't no winder to the house," she declared.
+
+"Crawled out th'oo the chim'ly, like Santa Claus," was Billy's next
+guess.
+
+"'Twa'n't no chim'ly to it. Give it up? Give it up?" the little girl
+laughed gleefully. "Well, he just broke out with measles."
+
+"It is Billy's time," said Lina, who seemed to be mistress of
+ceremonies.
+
+"Tabernicle learnt this here one at school; 'see, if y' all can guess
+it: 'Tabby had four kittens but Stillshee didn't have none 't all"'
+
+"I don't see no sense a tall in that," argued Jimmy, "'thout some bad
+little boys drownded 'em."
+
+"Tabby was a cat," explained the other boy, "and she had four kittens;
+and Stillshee was a little girl, and she didn't have no kittens 't all."
+
+"What's this," asked Jimmy: "'A man rode'cross a bridge and Fido walked?
+'Had a little dog name' Fido."
+
+"You didn't ask that right, Jimmy," said Lina, "you always get things
+wrong. The riddle is, 'A man rode across a bridge and Yet he walked,'
+and the answer is, 'He had a little dog named Yet who walked across the
+bridge.'"
+
+"Well, I'd 'nother sight ruther have a little dog name' Fido," declared
+Jimmy. "A little dog name' Yet and a little girl name' Stillshee ain't
+got no sense a tall to it."
+
+"Why should a hangman wear suspenders?" asked Lina. "I'll bet nobody can
+answer that."
+
+"To keep his breeches from falling off," triumphantly answered Frances.
+
+"No, you goose, a hangman should wear suspenders so that he 'd always
+have a gallows handy."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+                 IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD.
+
+
+It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The pulpit of the Methodist Church
+was not occupied by its regular pastor, Brother Johnson. Instead, a
+traveling minister, collecting funds for a church orphanage in Memphis,
+was the speaker for the day. Miss Minerva rarely missed a service in her
+own church. She was always on hand at the Love Feast and the Missionary
+Rally and gave liberally of her means to every cause. She was sitting in
+her own pew between Billy and Jimmy, Mr. and Mrs. Garner having remained
+at home. Across the aisle from her sat Frances Black, between her father
+and mother; two pews in front of her were Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, with
+Lina on the outside next the aisle. The good Major was there, too; it
+was the only place he could depend upon for seeing Miss Minerva.
+
+The preacher, after an earnest and eloquent discourse from the text,
+"He will remember the fatherless," closed the big Bible with a bang
+calculated to wake any who might be sleeping. He came down from the
+pulpit and stood close to his hearers as he made his last pathetic
+appeal.
+
+"My own heart," said he, "goes out to every orphan child, for in the
+yellow fever epidemic of '78, when but two years old, I lost both father
+and mother. If there are any little orphan children here to-day, I
+should be glad if they would come up to the front and shake hands with
+me."
+
+Now Miss Minerva always faithfully responded to every proposal made by a
+preacher; it was a part of her religious conviction. At revivals she was
+ever a shining, if solemn and austere, light. When a minister called for
+all those who wanted to go to Heaven to rise, she was always the first
+one on her feet. If he asked to see the raised hands of those who were
+members of the church at the tender age of ten years, Miss Minerva's
+thin, long arm gave a prompt response. Once when a celebrated evangelist
+was holding a big protracted meeting under canvas in the town and had
+asked all those who had read the book of Hezekiah in the Bible to stand
+up, Miss Minerva on one side of the big tent and her devoted lover on
+the other side were among the few who had risen to their feet. She had
+read the good book from cover to cover from Genesis to Revelation over
+and over so she thought she had read Hezekiah a score of times.
+
+So now, when the preacher called for little orphans to come forward, she
+leaned down and whispered to her nephew, "Go up to the front, William,
+and shake hands with the nice kind preacher."
+
+"Wha' fer?" he asked. "I don' want to go up there; ev'ybody here'll look
+right at me."
+
+"Are there no little orphans here?" the minister was saying. "I want to
+shake the hand of any little child who has had the misfortune to lose
+its parents."
+
+"Go on, William," commanded his aunt. "Go shake hands with the
+preacher."
+
+The little boy again demurred but, Miss Minerva insisting, he obediently
+slipped by her and by his chum. Walking gracefully and jauntily up the
+aisle to the spot where the lecturer was standing by a broad table, he
+held out his slim, little hand.
+
+Jimmy looked at these proceedings of Billy's in astonishment, not
+comprehending at all. He was rather indignant that the older boy had not
+confided in him and invited his participation.
+
+But Jimmy was not the one to sit calmly by and be ignored when there was
+anything doing, so he slid awkwardly from the bench before Miss Minerva
+knew what he was up to. Signaling Frances to follow, he swaggered
+pompously behind Billy and he, too, held out a short, fat hand to the
+minister.
+
+The speaker smiled benignly down upon them; lifting them up in his arms
+he stood the little boys upon the table. He thought the touching sight
+of these innocent and tender little orphans would empty the pockets of
+the audience. Billy turned red with embarrassment at his conspicuous
+position, while Jimmy grinned happily at the amused congregation.
+Horrified Miss Minerva half rose to her feet, but decided to remain
+where she was. She was a timid woman and did not know what course she
+ought to pursue. Besides, she had just caught the Major's smile.
+
+"And how long have you been an orphan?" the preacher was asking of
+Billy.
+
+"Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born," sweetly responded the
+child.
+
+"I 'bout the orphantest boy they is," volunteered Jimmy.
+
+Frances, responding to the latter's invitation, had crawled over her
+father's legs before he realized what was happening. She, too, went
+sailing down the aisle, her stiff white dress standing straight up in
+the back like a strutting gobbler's tail. She grabbed hold of the man's
+hand, and was promptly lifted to the table beside the other "orphans."
+Tears stood in the good preacher's eyes as he turned to the tittering
+audience and said in a pathetic voice, "Think of it, my friends, this
+beautiful little girl has no mother."
+
+Poor Mrs. Black! A hundred pairs of eyes sought her pew and focused
+themselves upon the pretty young woman sitting there, red, angry, and
+shamefaced. Mr. Black was visibly amused and could hardly keep from
+laughing aloud.
+
+As Frances passed by the Hamiltons' pew in her promenade down the aisle,
+Mrs. Hamilton leaned across her husband and made an attempt to clutch
+Lina; but she was too late; already that dignified little "orphan" was
+gliding with stately, conscious tread to join the others. This was too
+much for the audience. A few boys laughed out and for the first time
+the preacher's suspicions were aroused. As he clasped Lina's slender,
+graceful little hand he asked:
+
+"And you have no father or mother, little girl?"
+
+"Yes, I have, too," she angrily retorted. "My father and mother are
+sitting right there," and she pointed a slim forefinger to her crimson,
+embarrassed parents.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+                   JOB AND POLLIE BUMPUS
+
+
+"I never have told a downright falsehood," said Lina. "Mother taught
+me how wicked it is to tell stories. Did you ever tell a fib to your
+mother, Frances?"
+
+"'Tain't no use to try to 'ceive my mama," was the reply of the other
+little girl; "she's got such gimlet eyes and ears she can tell with 'em
+shut if you're fibbing. I gave up hope long ago, so I just go 'long and
+tell her the plain gospel truth when she asks me, 'cause I know those
+gimlet eyes and ears of hers 're going to worm it out o' me somehow."
+
+"Grown folks pin you down so close sometimes," said Jimmy, "you bound to
+'varicate a little; and I always tell God I'm sorry. I tell my mama the
+truth 'most all time 'cepting when she asks questions 'bout things ain't
+none of her business a tall, and she all time want to know 'Who done
+it?' and if I let on it's me, I know she'll wear out all the slippers
+and hair-brushes they is paddling my canoe, 'sides switches, so I jus'
+say 'I do' know, 'm'--which all time ain't perzactly the truth. You ever
+tell Miss Minerva stories, Billy?"
+
+"Aunt Cindy always say, 't wa'n't no harm 't all to beat 'bout the bush
+an' try to th'ow folks offer the track 'long as you can, but if it come
+to the point where you got to tell a out-an'-out fib, she say for me
+always to tell the truth, an' I jest nachelly do like she say ever sence
+I's born," replied Billy.
+
+The children swung awhile in silence. Presently Jimmy broke the quiet by
+remarking,
+
+"Don't you all feel sorry for old Miss Pollie Bumpus? She live all by
+herself, and she 'bout a million years old, and Doctor Sanford ain't
+never brung her no chillens 'cause she ain't got 'er no husban' to be
+their papa, and she got a octopus in her head, and she poor as a post
+and deaf as job's old turkey-hen."
+
+"Job's old turkey-hen wasn't deaf," retorted Lina primly; "she was very,
+very poor and thin."
+
+"She was deaf, too," insisted Jimmy, "'cause it's in the Bible. I know
+all 'bout job," bragged he.
+
+"I know all 'bout job, too," chirped Frances.
+
+"Job, nothing!" said Jimmy, with a sneer; "you all time talking 'bout
+you know all 'bout job; you 'bout the womanishest little girl they is.
+Now I know job 'cause Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout him to me. He's
+in the Bible and he sold his birthmark for a mess of potatoes and--"
+
+"You never can get anything right, Jimmy," interrupted Lina; "that was
+Esau and it was not his birthmark, it was his birthstone; and he sold
+his birthstone for a mess of potash."
+
+"Yas," agreed Frances; "he saw Esau kissing Kate and Esau had to sell
+him his birthstone to keep his mouth shut."
+
+"Mother read me all about job," continued Lina; "he was afflicted with
+boils and his wife knit him a job's comforter to wrap around him, and
+he--"
+
+"And he sat under a 'tato vine;" put in Frances eagerly, "what God grew
+to keep the sun off o' his boils and--"
+
+"That was Jonah," said Lina, "and it wasn't a potato vine; it was--"
+
+"No, 't wasn't Jonah neither; Jonah is inside of a whale's bel--"
+
+"Frances!"
+
+"Stommick," Frances corrected herself, "and a whale swallow him, and
+how's he going to sit under a pumpkin vine when he's inside of a whale?"
+
+"It was not a pumpkin vine, it--"
+
+"And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting under a
+morning-glory vine."
+
+"The whale vomicked him up," said Jimmy.
+
+"What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in Miss Pollie
+Bumpus's head?" asked Billy.
+
+"'Tain't a octopus, it's a polypus," explained Frances, "'cause she's
+named Miss Pollie. It's a someping that grows in your nose and has to
+be named what you's named. She's named Miss Pollie and she's got a
+polypus."
+
+"I'm mighty glad my mama ain't got no Eva-pus in her head," was Jimmy's
+comment. "Ain't you glad, Billy, your Aunt Minerva ain't got no Miss
+Minervapus?"
+
+"I sho' is," fervently replied Miss Minerva's nephew; "she's hard 'nough
+to manage now like she is."
+
+"I'm awful good to Miss Pollie," said Frances. "I take her someping good
+to eat 'most every day. I took her two pieces of pie this morning; I ate
+up one piece on the way and she gimme the other piece when I got there.
+I jus' don't believe she could get 'long at all 'thout me to carry her
+the good things to eat that my mama sends her; I takes her pies all the
+time, she says they're the best smelling pies ever she smelt."
+
+"You 'bout the piggiest girl they is," said Jimmy, "all time got to eat
+up a poor old woman's pies. You'll have a Frances-pus in your stomach
+first thing you know."
+
+"She's got a horn that you talk th'oo," continued the little girl,
+serenely contemptuous of Jimmy's adverse criticism, "and 'fore I knew
+how you talk into it, she says to me one day, 'How's your ma?' and stuck
+that old horn at me; so I put it to my ear, too, and there we set; she
+got one end of the horn to her ear and I got the other end to my ear; so
+when I saw this wasn't going to work I took it and blew into it; you-all
+'d died a-laughing to see the way I did. But now I can talk th'oo it 's
+good's anybody."
+
+"That is an ear trumpet, Frances," said Lina, "it is not a horn."
+
+"Le's play 'Hide the Switch,'" suggested Billy.
+
+"I'm going to hide it first," cried Frances.
+
+"Naw, you ain't," objected Jimmy, "you all time got to hide the switch
+first. I'm going to hide it first myself."
+
+"No, I'm going to say 'William Com Trimbleton,'" said Frances, "and see
+who's going to hide it first. Now you-all spraddle out your fingers."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+                     Mr. ALGERNON JONES
+
+
+Again was it Monday, with the Ladies Aid Society in session. Jimmy was
+sitting on the grass in his own front yard, in full view of Sarah Jane,
+who was ironing clothes in her cabin with strict orders to keep him at
+home. Billy was in the swing in Miss Minerva's yard.
+
+"Come on over," he invited.
+
+"I can't," was the reply across the fence, "I'm so good now I 'bout got
+'ligion; I reckon I'm going to be a mish'nary or a pol'tician, one or
+t' other when I'm a grownup man 'cause I'm so good; I ain't got but five
+whippings this week. I been good ever since I let you 'suade me to play
+Injun. I'm the goodest little boy in this town, I 'spec'. Sometimes
+I get scared 'bout being so good 'cause I hear a woman say if you too
+good, you going to die or you ain't got no sense, one. You come on over
+here; you ain't trying to be good like what I'm trying, and Miss Minerva
+don't never do nothing a tall to you 'cepting put you to bed."
+
+"I'd ruther to git whipped fifty hunderd times 'n to hafter go to bed
+in the daytime with Aunt Minerva lookin' at you. An' her specs can see
+right th'oo you plumb to the bone. Naw, I can't come over there 'cause
+she made me promise not to. I ain't never go back on my word yit."
+
+"I hope mama won't never ask me to promise her nothing a tall, 'cause
+I'm mighty curious 'bout forgetting. I 'spec' I'm the most forgettingest
+little boy they is. But I'm so glad I'm so good. I ain't never going to
+be bad no more; so you might just as well quit begging me to come over
+and swing, you need n't ask me no more,--'tain't no use a tall."
+
+"I ain't a-begging you," cried Billy contemptuously, "you can set on yo'
+mammy's grass where you is, an' be good from now tell Jedgement Day an'
+'twon't make no change in my business."
+
+"I ain't going to be 'ticed into no meanness, 'cause I'm so good,"
+continued the reformed one, after a short silence during which he had
+seen Sarah Jane turn her back to him, "but I don't b'lieve it'll be
+no harm jus' to come over and set in the swing with you; maybe I can
+'fluence you to be good like me and keep you from 'ticing little boys
+into mischief. I think I'll just come over and set a while and help you
+to be good," and he started to the fence. Sarah Jane turned around in
+time to frustrate his plans.
+
+"You git right back, Jimmy," she yelled, "you git erway f'om dat-ar
+fence an' quit confabbin' wid datar Willyum. Fixin' to make some mo'
+Injuns out o' yo'selfs, ain't yeh, or some yuther kin' o' skeercrows?"
+
+Billy strolled to the other side of the big yard and climbed up and sat
+on the tall gate post. A stranger, coming from the opposite direction,
+stopped and spoke to him.
+
+"Does Mr. John Smith live here?" he asked.
+
+"Naw, sir," was the reply; "don't no Mr. 'tall live here; jest me an'
+Aunt Minerva, an' she turns up her nose at anything that wears pants."
+
+"And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?" the stranger's grin was
+ingratiating and agreeable.
+
+"Why, this here's Monday," the little boy exclaimed. "Of course she's at
+the Aid; all the 'omans roun' here goes to the Aid on Monday."
+
+"Your aunt is an old friend of mine," went on the man, "and I knew she
+was at the Aid. I just wanted to find out if you'd tell the truth about
+her. Some little boys tell stories, but I am glad to find out you are so
+truthful. My name is Mr. Algernon Jones and I'm glad to know you. Shake!
+Put it there, partner," and the fascinating stranger held out a grimy
+paw.
+
+Billy smiled down from his perch at him and thought he had never met
+such a pleasant man. If he was such an old friend of his aunt's maybe
+she would not object to him because he wore pants, he thought. Maybe she
+might be persuaded to take Mr. Jones for a husband. Billy almost
+hoped that she would hurry home from the Aid, he wanted to see the two
+together so.
+
+"Is you much of a cusser?" he asked solemnly, "'cause if you is you'll
+hafter cut it out on these premises."
+
+Mr. Jones seemed much surprised and hurt at the question.
+
+"An oath never passed these lips," replied the truthful gentleman.
+
+"Can you churn?"
+
+"Churn--churn?" with a reminiscent smile, "I can churn like a top."
+
+Jimmy was dying of curiosity but the gate was too far away for him to
+do more than catch a word now and then. It was also out of Sarah Jane's
+visual line, so she knew nothing of the stranger's advent.
+
+"And you're here all by yourself?" insinuated Billy's new friend. "And
+the folks next door, where are they?"
+
+"Mrs. Garner's at the Aid an' Mr. Garner's gone to Memphis. That is they
+little boy a-settin' in they yard on they grass," answered the child.
+
+"I've come to fix your Aunt Minerva's water pipe," said truth-loving Mr.
+Jones. "Come, show me the way; I'm the plumber."
+
+"In the bath-room?" asked the child. "I did n' know it needed no
+fixin'."
+
+He led the agreeable plumber through the hall, down the long back-porch
+to the bathroom, remarking "I'll jes' watch you work." And he seated
+himself in the only chair.
+
+Here is where Billy received one of the greatest surprises of his life.
+The fascinating stranger grabbed him with a rough hand and hissed:
+
+"Don't you dare open your mouth or I'll crack your head open and scatter
+your brains. I'll eat you alive."
+
+The fierce, bloodshot eyes, which had seemed so laughing and merry
+before, now glared into those of the little boy as the man took a stout
+cord from his pocket, bound Billy to the chair, and gagged him with
+a large bath towel. Energetic Mr. Jones took the key out of the door,
+shook his fist at the child, went out, and locked the door behind him.
+
+Jimmy, seeing no hope of eluding Sarah Jane's vigilance, resorted to
+strategy and deceit.
+
+"'Tain't no fun setting out here," he called to her, "so I 'm going in
+the house and take a nap."
+
+She willingly consented, as she was through with her ironing and thought
+to snatch a few winks of sleep herself.
+
+The little boy slipped quietly through the house, noiselessly across
+the back-yard and into his father's big garden, which was separated
+from that of his neighbor by a high board-fence. He quickly climbed the
+fence, flew across Miss Minerva's tomato patch and tiptoed up her back
+steps to the back porch, his little bare feet giving no sign of his
+presence. Hearing curious noises coming from the bad-room, where Billy
+was bumping the chair up and down in his efforts to release his mouth,
+he made for that spot, promptly unlocked the door, and walked in. Billy
+by scuffling and tugging had freed his mouth from the towel that bound
+it at that moment.
+
+"Hush!" he whispered as Jimmy opened the door, "you'll get eat up alive
+if you don't look out." His tone was so mysterious and thrilling and he
+looked so scared tied to the chair that the younger boy's blood almost
+froze in his veins.
+
+"What you doing all tied up so?" he asked in low, frightened tones.
+
+"Mr. Algernon Jones done it. I spec' he's a robber an' is jes'
+a-robberin' right now," answered Billy.
+
+"I'll untie you," said his chum.
+
+"Naw; you better not," said Billy bravely. "He might git away. You leave
+me jes' like he fixed me so's you can try to ketch him. I hear him in
+the dinin'-room now. You leave me right here an' step over to yo' house
+an' 'phone to some mens to come and git him quick. Shet the do' ag'in
+an' don't make no noise. Fly, now!"
+
+And Jimmy did fly. He again took the garden route and in a minute was at
+the telephone with the receiver at his ear.
+
+"Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me," he howled into the
+transmitter. "Gimme Miss Minerva's beau. I don't know his number, but
+he's got a office over my papa's bank."
+
+His father being out of town, the little boy shrewdly decided that Miss
+Minerva's beau was the next best man to help capture the robber.
+
+"Miss Minerva what lives by me," he shrieked.
+
+Fortunately Central recognized his childish voice and was willing to
+humor him, so as she too knew Miss Minerva's beau. The connection was
+quickly made.
+
+"Hello! Is that you, Major? This is me. If you don't want Mr. Algernon
+Jones to be robbering everything Miss Minerva's got you better get a
+move on and come right this minute. You got to hustle and bring 'bout a
+million pistols and guns and swords and tomahawks and all the mans you
+can find and dogs. He's the fiercest robber ever was, and he's already
+done tie Billy to a bath-room chair and done eat up 'bout a million cold
+biscuits, I spec'. All of us is 'bout to be slewed. Good-bye."
+
+The plump, round gentleman at the other end of the wire heard
+this amazing message in the utmost confusion and consternation. He
+frantically rang the telephone again and again but could get no answer
+from the Garners' home so he put on his hat and walked the short
+distance to Miss Minerva's house.
+
+Jimmy was waiting to receive him at the front gate, having again eluded
+Sarah Jane's vigilance.
+
+"Hush!" he whispered mysteriously, "he's in the dining-room. Ain't you
+bringed nobody else? Get your pistol and come on."
+
+Mr. Algernon Jones, feeling safe and secure for the next hour and having
+partaken of a light lunch, was in the act of transferring some silver
+spoons from the sideboard to his pockets when a noise at the dining-room
+door caused him to look in that direction. With an oath he sprang
+forward, and landed his fist upon the nose of a plump gentleman standing
+there, bringing a stream of blood and sending him sprawling to the
+floor. Mr. Jones overturned a big-eyed little boy who was in his way
+and, walking rapidly in the direction of the railroad, the erstwhile
+plumber was seen no more.
+
+Jimmy quickly recovered himself and sprang to his feet. Seeing the blood
+streaming down the white shirt front of Miss Minerva's unconscious beau,
+he gathered his wits together and took the thread of events again into
+his own little hands. He flung himself over the fence, careless of Sarah
+Jane this time, mounted a chair and once more rang the telephone.
+
+"Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me some more. Gimme Doctor
+Sanford's office, please."
+
+"Hello! Is that you, Doctor? This is me. Mr. Algernon Jones done kilt
+Miss Minerva's beau. He's on her back-porch bloody all over. He's 'bout
+the deadest man they is. You 'd better come toreckly you can and bring
+the hearse, and a coffin and a clean shirt and a tombstone. He's wounded
+me but I ain't dead yet. Good-bye."
+
+Doctor Sanford received Jimmy's crazy message in astonishment. He, too,
+rang the telephone again and again but could hear nothing more, so he
+walked down to Miss Minerva's house and rang the door-bell. Jimmy opened
+the door and led the way to the back-porch, where the injured man, who
+had just recovered consciousness, was sitting limply in a chair.
+
+"What does all this mean? Are you hurt?" asked the Doctor as he examined
+Mr. Jones's victim.
+
+"No, I think I'm all right now," was the reply; "but that scoundrel
+certainly gave me a severe blow."
+
+Billy, shut up in the bath-room and listening to all the noise and
+confusion, had been scared nearly out of his senses. He had kept as
+still as a mouse till now, when, thinking he heard friendly voices he
+yelled out, "Open the do' an' untie me."
+
+"We done forgot Billy," said the little rescuer, as he ran to the
+bath-room door and opened it. He was followed by the Doctor, who cut the
+cords that bound the prisoner.
+
+"Now, William," commanded Doctor Sanford as they grouped themselves
+around the stout, plump gentleman in the chair, "begin at the beginning,
+and let us get at the bottom of this affair."
+
+"Mr. Algernon Jones he come to the gate," explained the little boy, "an'
+he say he goin' to fix the water pipe an' he say he's a plumber. He's a
+very 'greeable man, but I don't want Aunt Minerva to marry him, now. I
+was plumb tickled at him an' I tuck him to the bath-room an' fust thing
+I knowed he grabbed holter me an' shuck me like what you see a cat do a
+mouse, an' he say--"
+
+"And he'd more 'n a million whiskers," interrupted Jimmy, who thought
+Billy was receiving too much attention, "and he--"
+
+"One at a time," said the Doctor. "Proceed, William."
+
+"An' he say he'll bust my brains outer my head if I holler, an' I ain't
+a-goin' to holler neither, an' he tie me to a chair an' tie my mouth up
+an' lock the do'--"
+
+"And I comed over," said Jimmy eagerly, "and I run home and I see Mr.
+Algernon Jones is a robber and I 'phoned to Miss Minerva's beau, and
+if he'd brunged what I telled him, he wouldn't never got cracked in the
+face like Mr. Algernon Jones done crack him, and Billy got to all time
+let robbers in the house so they can knock mans and little boys down."
+
+"While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away," said the
+injured man.
+
+"That is so," agreed Doctor Sanford, "so I'll go and find the Sheriff."
+
+Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway, and she
+grabbed Jimmy by the arm.
+
+"Yaas," she cried, "you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh 'ceitful
+caterpillar. Come on home dis minute."
+
+"Lemme go, Sarah Jane," protested the little boy, trying to jerk away
+from her, "I got to stay here and pertec' Billy and Miss Minerva's beau
+'cause they's a robber might come back and tie 'em up and make 'em bleed
+if I ain't here."
+
+"Did Mr. Algernon Jones make all that blood?" asked an awe-stricken
+little boy gazing in admiration at the victim of Mr. Jones's energy.
+"You sho' is a hero to stan' up an' let him knock you down like he
+done."
+
+"Yes," cried Jimmy, as the black woman dragged him kicking and
+struggling through the hall, "we's all heroes, but I bet I'm the heroest
+hero they is, and I bet Miss Minerva's going to be mad 'bout you all
+spilling all that blood on her nice clean floor."
+
+"Lemme see yo' big toe what was shot off by all them Yankees and Injuns
+what you killed in the war," said Billy to Miss Minerva's beau.
+
+The Major smiled at the little boy; a man-to-man smile, full of good
+comradeship, humor, and understanding. Billy's little heart went out to
+him at once.
+
+"I can't take off my shoes at present," said the veteran. "Well, I must
+be going; I feel all right now."
+
+Billy looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
+
+"You couldn't never go 'thout yo' pants, could you?" he asked, "'cause
+Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises pants."
+
+The man eyed him quizzically.
+
+"Well, no; I don't think I could," he replied; "I don't think I'd look
+any better in a Mother Hubbard or a kimono."
+
+The little boy sighed.
+
+"Which you think is the fitteness name," asked he, "Billy or William."
+
+"Billy, Billy," enthusiastically came the reply.
+
+"I like mens," said William Green Hill, "I sho' wisht you could come and
+live right here with me and Aunt Minerva."
+
+"I wish so, too," said the Major.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+                    BILLY, THE CREDULOUS
+
+
+After the advent and disappearance of the exciting Mr. Jones, Miss
+Minerva, much to Billy's joy, had a telephone put in the house. He sat
+in the hall the day it was put in waiting for it to ring.
+
+Jimmy, coming up on the front porch and through the half-open door and
+seeing him sitting there, rang the door bell just for a joke, ready to
+burst into a laugh when the other little boy turned around and saw
+who it was. Billy, however, in his eagerness mistook the ring for
+the telephone bell and joyfully climbed up on the chair, which he had
+stationed in readiness. He took down the receiver as he had seen Jimmy
+do in his home and, without once seeing that little boy standing a few
+feet from him, he yelled at the top of his lungs:
+
+"Hello! Who is that?"
+
+"This is Marie Yarbrough," replied Jimmy from the doorway, instantly
+recognizing Billy's mistake.
+
+Marie Yarbrough was a little girl much admired by the two boys, as she
+had a pony and cart of her very own. However, she lived in a different
+part of the town and attended another Sunday-School, so they had no
+speaking acquaintance with her.
+
+"I jus' wanted to talk to you," went on the counterfeit Marie, stifling
+a laugh and trying to talk like a girl. "I think you're 'bout the
+sweetest little boy they is and I want you to come to my party."
+
+"I sho' will," screamed the gratified Billy, "if Aunt Minerva'll lemme.
+What make you talk so much like Jimmy?"
+
+"Who?--that little old Jimmy Garner? I hope I don't talk like that
+chicken, he's 'bout the measliest boy they is and I like you 'nother
+sight better 'n him; you're a plumb jim-dandy, Billy," came from the
+doorway.
+
+"So's you," howled back the delighted and flattered Billy.
+
+Jimmy thought he would pop wide open in his efforts to keep from
+laughing.
+
+"How 'd you like to be my sweetheart?" he asked.
+
+"I's already promise' to marry Miss Cecilia when I puts on long pants,
+but if we ever gits a 'vorce I'd 'nother sight ruther have you 'n
+anybody. You can be my ladyfrien', anyhow," was the loud reply.
+
+"I'm coming for you to go riding in my little pony and cart," said a
+giggling Jimmy.
+
+"All right, I's going to ask Aunt Minerva to lemme go. Can't we take
+Jimmy too?"
+
+This was too much for the little boy. He had held himself in as long
+as possible. He burst into a peal of laughter so merry and so loud that
+Billy, turning, quickly, almost fell out of the chair.
+
+"What you doin', a-listening to me talk to Marie Yarbrough th'oo the
+telephone?" he questioned angrily.
+
+"Marie your pig's foot," was the inelegant response. "That was just me
+a-talking to you all the time. You all time think you talking to little
+girls and all time 'tain't nobody but me."
+
+A light dawned upon the innocent one. He promptly hung up the receiver
+and got down out of the chair. Before Jimmy was fully aware of his
+intention, Billy had thrown him to the floor and was giving him a good
+pommeling.
+
+"Say you got 'nough?" he growled from ibis position astride of the other
+boy.
+
+"I got 'nough, Billy," repeated Jimmy.
+
+"Say you sorry you done it."
+
+"I say I sorry I done it," abjectly repeated the younger child. "Get up,
+Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open."
+
+"Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart," was the
+next command.
+
+"I say I ain't never going to tell nobody, cross my heart. Get up,
+Billy, 'fore you make me mad, and ain't no telling what I'll do to you
+if I get mad."
+
+"Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk."
+
+"I ain't going to say I'm nothing of the kind," spiritedly replied the
+under-dog. "You all time wanting somebody to call theirselfs someping.
+You're a low-down Isabella skunk yourself."
+
+"You got to say it," insisted the victor, renewing hostilities.
+
+"I'll say I'm a Isabella 'cause Isabella discovered America and's in the
+Bible," replied the tormented one; "Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me."
+
+Billy accepted his compromise and Jimmy's flattened stomach, relieved of
+its burden, puffed out to its usual roundness as that little boy rose to
+his feet, saying:
+
+"Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you
+telephoning."
+
+"He 'd better never hear tell of it," was the threatening rejoinder.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+                    THE HUMBLE PETITION
+
+
+Billy, sitting in an old buggy in front of the livery stable, had just
+engaged in a long and interesting conversation with Sam Lamb.
+
+He was getting out of the vehicle when the sharp wire around a broken
+rod caught in the back of his trousers and tore a great hole. He felt
+a tingling pain and looked over his shoulder to investigate. Not being
+satisfied with the result, he turned his back to the negro and anxiously
+enquired, "Is my breeches tore, Sam?"
+
+"Dey am dat," was the reply, "dey am busted Fm Dan ter Beersheba."
+
+"What I goin' to do 'bout it?" asked the little boy, "Aunt Minerva sho'
+will be mad. These here's branspankin' new trousers what I ain't never
+wore tell today. Ain't you got a needle an' thread so's you can fix 'em.
+Sam?"
+
+"Nary er needle," said Sam Lamb.
+
+"Is my union suit tore, too?" and Billy again turned his back for
+inspection.
+
+His friend made a close examination.
+
+"Yo' unions is injured plum scanerous," was his discouraging decision,
+"and hit 'pears ter me dat yo' hide done suffer too; you's got er
+turrible scratch."
+
+The child sighed. The injury to the flesh was of small importance,--he
+could hide that from his aunt--but the rent in his trousers was a
+serious matter.
+
+"I wish I could git 'em mended 'fore I goes home," he said wistfully.
+
+"I tell you what do," suggested Sam, "I 'low Miss Cecilia'll holp yeh;
+jest go by her house an' she'll darn 'em up fer yuh."
+
+Billy hesitated.
+
+"Well, you see, Sam, me an' Miss Cecilia's engaged an' we's fixin' to
+marry jes''s soon's I puts on long pants, an' I 'shame' to ask her. An'
+I don't berlieve young 'omans patches the breeches of young mans what
+they's goin' to marry nohow. Do you? Aunt Minerva ain' never patched no
+breeches for the Major. And then," with a modest blush, "my unions is
+tore too, an' I ain't got on nothin' else to hide my skin."
+
+Again he turned his back to his friend and, his clouded little face
+looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Do my meat show, Sam?"
+
+"She am visible ter the naked eye," and Sam Lamb laughed loudly at his
+own wit.
+
+"I don't believe God pays me much attention nohow," said the little
+boy dolefully; "ev'y day I gets put to bed 'cause sumpin's all time
+a-happenin'. If He'd had a eye on me like He oughter they wouldn't a
+been no snaggin'. Aunt Minerva's goin' to be mad th'oo an' th'oo."
+
+"May be my of 'oman can fix 'em, so's dey won't be so turrible bad,"
+suggested the negro, "'taint fer, so you jes' run down ter my cabin an'
+tell Sukey I say fix dem breeches."
+
+The child needed no second bidding,--he fairly flew. Sam's wife was
+cooking, but she cheerfully stopped her work to help the little boy. She
+sewed up his union suit and put a bright blue patch on his brown linen
+breeches.
+
+Billy felt a little more cheerful, though he still dreaded confessing to
+his aunt and he loitered along the way till it was nearly dark. Supper
+was ready when he got home and he walked into the diningroom with his
+customary ease and grace. But he took his seat uneasily, and he was so
+quiet during the meal and ate so little that his aunt asked him if he
+were sick. He was planning in his mind how to break the news of the
+day's disaster to her.
+
+"You are improving, William," she remarked presently, "you haven't got
+into any mischief to-day. You have been a mighty good little boy now for
+two days."
+
+Billy flushed at the compliment and shifted uneasily in his seat. That
+patch seemed to burn him.
+
+"If God'd jest do His part," he said darkly, "I wouldn't never git in no
+meanness."
+
+After supper Miss Minerva washed the dishes in the kitchen sink and
+Billy carried them back to the dining-room. His aunt caught him several
+times prancing sideways in the most idiotic manner. He was making a
+valiant effort to keep from exposing his rear elevation to her; once he
+had to walk backward.
+
+"William," she said sharply, "you will break my plates. What is the
+matter with you to-night?"
+
+A little later they were sitting quietly in Miss Minerva's room. She
+was reading "The Christian at Home," and he was absently looking at a
+picture book.
+
+"Sam Lamb's wife Sukey sho' is a beautiful patcher," he remarked,
+feeling his way.
+
+She made no answering comment, and the discouraged little boy was silent
+for a few minutes. He had worn Aunt Cindy's many-colored patches too
+often to be ashamed of this one for himself, but he felt that he would
+like to draw his aunt out and find how she stood on the subject of
+patches.
+
+"Aunt Minerva," he presently asked, "what sorter patches 'd you ruther
+wear on yo' pants, blue patches or brown?"
+
+"On my what?" she asked, looking at him severely over her paper.
+
+"I mean if you's me," he hastily explained. "Don't you think blue
+patches is the mos' nat'ral lookin'?"
+
+"What are you driving at, William?" she asked; but without waiting for
+his answer she went on with her reading.
+
+The child was silent for a long time, his little mind busy, then he
+began, "Aunt Minerva?"
+
+She peered at him over her glasses a second, then dropped her eyes to
+the paper where an interesting article on Foreign Missions held her
+attention.
+
+"Aunt Minerva, I snagged--Aunt Minerva, I snagged my--my skin, to-day."
+
+"Let me see the place," she said absently, her eyes glued to a paragraph
+describing a cannibal feast.
+
+"I's a-settin' on it right now," he replied.
+
+Another long silence ensued. Billy resolved to settle the matter.
+
+"I's gettin' sleepy," he yawned. "Aunt Minerva, I wants to say my
+prayers and go to bed."
+
+She laid her paper down and he dropped to his knees by her side. He
+usually sprawled all over her lap during his lengthy devotions, but
+to-night he clasped his little hands and reared back like a rabbit on
+its haunches.
+
+After he had rapidly repeated the Lord's prayer, which he had
+recently learned, and had invoked blessings on all his new friends and
+never-to-be-forgotten old ones, he concluded with:
+
+"An', O Lord, You done kep' me f'om meddlin' with Aunt Minerva's hose
+any mo', an' you done kep' me f'om gittin' any mo' Easter eggs, an'
+playin' any mo' Injun, an' You done kep' me f'om lettin' Mr. Algernon
+Jones come ag'in, an' now, O Lord, please don't lemme worry the very
+'zistence outer Aunt Minerva any mo' 'n You can help, like she said I
+done this mornin,' an' please, if Thy will be done, don't lemme tear the
+next new breeches what she'll gimme like I done ruint thesehere what I
+got on."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+                     A GREEN-EYED BILLY
+
+
+"Have some candy?" said Miss Cecilia, offering a big box of bonbons to
+Billy, who was visiting her.
+
+"Where 'd you git 'em?" he asked, as he helped himself generously.
+
+"Maurice sent them to me this morning."
+
+Billy put all his candy back into the box.
+
+"I don't believe I wants noner yo' candy," he said, scowling darkly. "I
+reckon you likes him better 'n me anyhow, don't you?"
+
+"I love you dearly," she replied.
+
+The child stood in front of her and looked her squarely in the eye. His
+little form was drawn to its full, proud height, his soft, fair cheeks
+were flushed, his big, beautiful, grey eyes looked somber and sad.
+
+"Is you in love with that red-headed Maurice Richmond an' jes' a-foolin'
+o' me?" he asked with dignity.
+
+A bright flush dyed crimson the young lady's pretty face.
+
+She put her arm around the childish, graceful figure and drew the little
+boy to the sofa beside her.
+
+"Now, honey, you mustn't be silly," she said gently, "you are my own,
+dear, little sweetheart."
+
+"An' I reckon he's yo' own, dear, big sweetheart," said the jealous
+Billy. "Well, all I got to say is thishere; if he's a-goin' to come to
+see you ev'y day then I ain't never comin' no mo'. He's been acarryin'
+on his foolishness 'bout 's long as I can stand it. You got to chose
+'tween us right this minute; he come down here mos' ev'y day, he's tuck
+you drivin' more'n fifty hundred times, an' he's give you all the candy
+you can stuff."
+
+"He is not the only one who comes to see me," she said smiling down at
+him. "Jimmy comes often and Len Hamner and Will Reid. Don't you want
+them to come?"
+
+"Don't nobody pay no 'tention to Jimmy," he replied contemptuously; "he
+ain't nothin' but a baby, an' them other mens can come if you wants
+'em to; but," said Billy, with a lover's unerring intuition, "I ain't
+a-goin' to stand fer that long-legged, sorrel-top Maurice Richmond
+a-trottin' his great big carkiss down here ev'y minute. I wish Aunt
+Minerva 'd let me put on long pants to-morrer so 's we could git
+married." He caught sight of a new ring sparkling on her finger.
+
+"Who give you that ring?" he asked sharply.
+
+"A little bird brought it to me," she said, trying to speak gayly, and
+blushing again.
+
+"A big, red-headed peckerwood," said Billy savagely.
+
+"Maurice loves you, too,"--she hoped to conciliate him; "he says you are
+the brightest kid in town."
+
+"Kid," was the scornful echo, "'cause he's so big and tall, he's got to
+call me a kid. Well, he'd jes' awasting' hi'self lovin' me; I don't like
+him an' I ain't agoin' to never like him an' soon's I puts on long pants
+he's goin' to get 'bout the worses' lickin' he ever did see.
+
+"Say, does you kiss him like you does me?" he asked presently, looking
+up at her with serious, unsmiling face.
+
+She hid her embarrassment in a laugh.
+
+"Don't be foolish, Billy," she replied.
+
+"I'll bet he's kissed you more 'n fifty hunderd times."
+
+"There's Jimmy whistling for you," said Miss Cecilia. "How do you two
+boys make that peculiar whistle? I would recognize it anywhere."
+
+"Is he ever kiss you yet?" asked the child.
+
+"I heard that you and Jimmy whipped Ed Brown because he imitated your
+own particular whistle. Did you?"
+
+"How many times is he kiss you?" asked Billy.
+
+The young girl put her arm around him and tried to nestle his little
+body against her own.
+
+"I'm too big, anyway, for your real sweetheart," she said. "Why, by the
+time you are large enough to marry I should be an old maid. You must
+have Frances or Lina for your sweetheart."
+
+"An' let you have Maurice!" he sneered.
+
+She stooped to lay her flushed cheek against his own.
+
+"Honey," she softly said, "Maurice and I are going to be married soon; I
+love him very much and I want you to love him too."
+
+He pushed her roughly from him.
+
+"An' you jes' 'ceived me all the time," he cried, "an' me a-lovin' you
+better 'n anybody I ever see sence I's born? An' you a Sunday-School
+teacher? I ain't never a-goin' to trus' nobody no mo'. Good-bye, Miss
+Cecilia."
+
+She caught his hand and held it fast; "I want you and Jimmy to be my
+little pages at the wedding, and wear dear little white satin suits all
+trimmed with gold braid," she tried to be enthusiastic and arouse his
+interest; "and Lina and Frances can be little flower-girls and we'll
+have such a beautiful wedding."
+
+"Jimmy an' Lina an' Frances can be all the pages an' flower-girls
+an' brides an' grooms they wants to, but you can't rope me in," he
+scornfully replied. "I's done with you an' I ain't never goin' to have
+me no mo' sweetheart long's I live."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                   CLOSER THAN A BROTHER
+
+
+It was a bad, rainy day. Jimmy and Billy were playing in Sarah Jane's
+cabin, she, however, being in happy ignorance of the fact. Her large
+stays, worn to the preaching the night before, were hanging on the back
+of a chair. "Ain't I glad I don' have to wear no corset when I puts on
+long pants?" remarked Billy, pointing to the article. "Ain't that a big
+one? It's twice's big's Aunt Minerva's."
+
+"My mama wears a big co'set, too," said Jimmy; "I like fat womans
+'nother sight better 'n lean ones. Miss Minerva's 'bout the skinniest
+woman they is; when I get married I'm going to pick me out the fattest
+wife I can find, so when you set in her lap at night for her to rock you
+to sleep you'll have a soft place to put your head, while she sings to
+you."
+
+"The Major--he's mos' plump enough for two," said Billy, taking down the
+stays and trying to hook them around him.
+
+"It sho' is big," he said; "I berlieve it's big 'nough to go 'round both
+of us."
+
+"Le's see if 'tain't," was the other boy's ready suggestion.
+
+He stood behind Billy and they put the stays around both little bodies,
+while, with much squeezing and giggling, Billy hooked them safely up
+the front. The boys got in front of Sarah Jane's one looking-glass and
+danced about laughing with glee.
+
+"We're like the twinses what was growed together like mama read me
+'bout," declared the younger child.
+
+Presently they began to feel uncomfortable, especially Jimmy, whose fat,
+round little middle was tightly compressed.
+
+"Here, unhook this thing, Billy, and le's take her off," he said. "I'm
+'bout to pop open."
+
+"All right," agreed his companion.
+
+He tugged and pulled, but could get only the top and bottom hooks
+unclasped; the middle ones refused to budge.
+
+"I can't get these-here hooks to come loose," Billy said.
+
+Jimmy put his short, fat arms around him and tried his hand, but with
+no better success. The stays were such a snug fit that the hooks seemed
+glued.
+
+"We sho' is in a fix," said Billy gloomily; "look like God all time
+lettin' us git in trouble."
+
+"You think of more fool stunts to do, William Hill, than any boy they
+is," cried the other; "you all time want to get us hooked up in Sarah
+Jane's corset and you all time can't get nobody loose. What you want to
+get us hooked up in this thing for?"
+
+"You done it yo'self," defended the boy in front with rising passion.
+"Squeeze in, Jimmy; we jes' boun' to git outer this 'fore somebody finds
+it out."
+
+He backed the other child close to the wall and pressed so hard against
+him that Jimmy screamed aloud and began to pound him on the head with
+his chubby fists.
+
+Billy would not submit tamely to any such treatment. He reached his hand
+behind him and gave the smaller boy's cheek a merciless pinch. The fight
+was on. The two little boys, laced up tightly as they were in a stout
+pair of stays, pinched and scratched, and kicked and jerked. Suddenly
+Billy, leaning heavily against Jimmy, threw him flat on his back and
+fell on top of him.
+
+Bennie Dick, sitting on the floor, had up to this time watched the
+proceedings with an interested eye; now, thinking murder was being
+committed, he opened his big, red mouth and emitted a howl that could be
+heard half a mile. It immediately brought his mother to the open door.
+When she saw the children squirming on the floor in her only corset, her
+indignation knew no bounds.
+
+"You, Jimmy Garner, an' you, too, William Hill, yuh little imps o'
+Satan, what you doin' in my house? didn't yo' mammy tell you not to
+tamper wid me no mo'? Git up an' come here an' lemme git my co'set off
+o' yuh."
+
+Angry as she was she could not keep from laughing at the sight they
+presented, as, with no gentle hand, she unclasped the hooks and released
+their imprisoned bodies.
+
+"Billy all time--" began Jimmy.
+
+"Billy all time nothin," said Sarah Jane, "'tain't no use fo' to try to
+lay dis-here co'set business onto Billy; both o' yuh is ekally in it.
+An' me a-aimin' fo' to go to three fun'els dis week an' a baptizin'
+on Sunday. S'pose y' all'd bruck one o' de splints, how'd I look
+a-presidin' at a fun'el 'thout nare co'set on, an' me shape' like what I
+is?"
+
+"Who's dead, Sarah Jane?" asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the torrent of her
+wrath.
+
+"Sis' Mary Ellen's las' husban', Brudder Littlejohn--dat 's a-who," she
+replied, somewhat mollified at his interest.
+
+"When did he die?"--Jimmy pursued his advantage.
+
+"He got 'way f'om here 'bout moon-down las' night," she replied, losing
+sight of her grievance in his flattering interrogations. "You know Sis'
+Littlejohn, she been married goin' on five times. Dis-here'll make fo'
+gentlemans she done buriet an' dey ain't nobody can manage a fun'el like
+she kin; 'pears like hit jes' come natchel to her. She sho' is done a
+good part by eb'ry single husban' too, an' she's figgerin' to outdo all
+the yuthers wid Brudder Littlejohn's co'pse." Sarah Jane almost forgot
+her little audience in her intense absorption of her subject. "She say
+to me dis mornin', she say, 'Marri'ge am a lott'ry, Sis Beddinfiel', but
+I sho' is drawed some han'some prizes. 'She got 'em all laid out side
+by side in de buryin' groun' wid er little imige on ebry grabe; an', 'Sis
+Mary Ellen, seein' as she can't read de writin' on de tombstones, she
+got a diff'unt little animal asettin' on eb'ry head res' so's she kin
+tell which husban' am which. Her fus' husban' were all time ahuntin', so
+she got a little white marble pa'tridge arestin' on he' head, an' hit am
+a mighty consolement to a po' widda 'oman fo' to know dat she can tell
+de very minute her eyes light on er grabe which husban' hit am. Her
+secon' man he got er mighty kinky, woolly head an' he mighty meek, so
+she got a little white lamb a-settin' on he grabe; an' de nex husban' he
+didn't have nothin' much fo' to disgueese him f'om de res' 'cep'in' he
+so slow an' she might nigh rack her brain off, twell she happen to think
+'bout him bein' a Hardshell Baptis' an' so powerful slow, so she jest
+got a little tarrapim an' sot it on him. Hit sho' am a pretty sight jes'
+to go in dat buryin' groun' an' look at 'em all, side by side; an' now
+she got Brudder Littlejohn to add to de res'. He de onliest one what's
+got er patch o' whiskers so she gwine to put a little white cat on he'
+grabe. Yes, Lord, ef anythink could pearten' a widda 'oman hit would be
+jes' to know dat yuh could go to de grabeyard any time yuh want to an'
+look at dat han'some c'llection an' tell 'zactly which am which."
+
+Sarah Jane stopped for breath and Billy hastened to inquire,
+
+"Who else is dead, Sarah Jane?"
+
+"'Tain't nobody else dead, yit, as I knows on, but my two cousins is
+turrible low; one's got a hemrage on de lung an' de yuther's got a
+congestin' on de brain, an' I 'lows dey'll bofe drap off 'twix' now an'
+sun-up to-morra." Her eyes rolled around and happened to light on her
+corset. She at once returned to her grievance.
+
+"An' sposin' I hadn't 'av' came in here when I did? I'd 'a' had to went
+to my own cousins' fun'el 'thout nare co'set. Y' all gotta go right to
+y' all's mamas an' Miss Minerva dis very minute. I low dey'll settle yo'
+hashes. Don't y' all know dat Larroes ketch meddlers?"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+                     TWINS AND A SISSY
+
+
+Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Black were sitting on Miss Minerva's veranda
+talking to her, and Lira and Frances were in the swing with Billy.
+
+The attraction proved too great for Jimmy; he impolitely left a
+disconsolate little visitor sitting on his own porch while he jumped the
+fence and joined the other children.
+
+"Don't you all wish you could see Mrs. Brown's new twinses?" was his
+greeting as he took his seat by Billy.
+
+"Where'd she get 'em?" asked Frances.
+
+"Doctor Sanford tooken 'em to her last night."
+
+"He muster found 'em in a holler stump," remarked Billy. "I knows,
+'cause that's where Doctor Shacklefoot finds aller of Aunt Blue-Gum
+Tempy's Peruny Pearline's, an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln been lookin'
+in evy holler stump we see ever sence we's born, an' we ain't never
+foun' no baby 't all, 'cause can't nobody but jes' doctors fin' 'em. I
+wish he'd a-give 'em to Aunt Minerva 'stidder Mrs. Brown."
+
+"I wish he'd bringed 'em to my mama," said Frances.
+
+"I certainly do think he might have given them to us," declared Lina,
+"and I'm going to tell him so, too. As much money as father has paid him
+for doctor's bills and as much old, mean medicine as I have taken just
+to 'commodate him; then he gives babies to everybody but us."
+
+"I'm awful glad he never give 'em to my mama," said Jimmy, "'cause I
+never could had no more fun; they'd be stuck right under my nose all
+time, and all time put their mouth in everything you want to do, and all
+time meddling. You can't fool me 'bout twinses. But I wish I could see
+'em! They so weakly they got to be hatched in a nincubator."
+
+"What's that?" questioned Frances.
+
+"That's a someping what you hatches chickens and babies in when they's
+delicate, and ain't got 'nough breath and ain't got they eyes open and
+ain't got no feathers on," explained Jimmy.
+
+"Reckon we can see 'em?" she asked.
+
+"See nothing!" sniffed the little boy. "Ever sence Billy let Mr.
+Algernon Jones whack Miss Minerva's beau we can't do nothing at all
+'thout grown folks 'r' stuck right under your nose. I'm jes' cramped to
+death."
+
+"When I'm a mama," mused Frances, "I hope Doctor Sanford'll bring me
+three little twinses, and two Maltese kittens, and a little Japanee, and
+a monkey, and a parrit."
+
+"When I'm a papa," said Jimmy, "I don' want no babies at all, all they's
+good for is jus' to set 'round and yell."
+
+"Look like God 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies," remarked Billy.
+
+"Why, God don' have none 'a the trouble," explained Jimmy. "He's just
+got Him a baby factory in Heaven like the chair factory and the canning
+factory down by the railroad, and angels jus' all time make they arms
+and legs, like niggers do at the chair factory, and all God got to do
+is jus' glue 'em together, and stick in their souls. God's got 'bout the
+easiest job they is."
+
+"I thought angels jes' clam' the golden stair and play they harps," said
+Billy.
+
+"Ain't we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia's wedding," said Frances,
+after a short silence.
+
+"I'll betcher I'll be the cutest kid in that church," boasted Jimmy
+conceitedly. "You coming, ain't you, Billy?"
+
+"I gotter go," answered that jilted swain, gloomily, "Aunt Minerva ain't
+got nobody to leave me with at home. I jes' wish she'd git married."
+
+"Why wouldn't you be a page, Billy?" asked Lina.
+
+"'Cause I didn't hafto," was the snappish reply.
+
+"I bet my mama give her the finest present they is," bragged the smaller
+boy; "I reckon it cost 'bout a million dollars."
+
+"Mother gave her a handsome cut-glass vase," said Lina.
+
+"It looks like Doctor Sanford would've give Miss Cecilia those twinses
+for a wedding present," said Frances.
+
+"Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?" asked Lina,
+noticing for the first time a lonely-looking child.
+
+"That's Leon Tipton, Aunt Ella's little boy. He just come out from
+Memphis to spend the day with me and I'll be awful glad when he goes
+home; he's 'bout the stuck-up-est kid they is, and skeery? He's 'bout
+the 'fraidest young un ever you see. And look at him now? Wears long
+curls like a girl and don't want to never get his clean clo'es dirty."
+
+"I think he's a beautiful little boy," championed Lina. "Call him over
+here, Jimmy."
+
+"Naw, I don't want to. You all'll like him a heap better over there;
+he's one o' these-here kids what the furder you get 'way from 'em, the
+better you like 'em."
+
+"He sho' do look lonesome," said Billy; "'vite him over, Jimmy."
+
+"Leon!" screamed his cousin, "you can come over here if you wantta."
+
+The lonesome-looking little boy promptly accepted the invitation, and
+came primly through the two gates. He walked proudly to the swing and
+stood, cap in hand, waiting for an introduction.
+
+"Why didn't you clam' the fence, 'stead of coming th'oo the gates?"
+growled Jimmy. "You 'bout the prissiest boy they is. Well, why don't you
+set down?"
+
+"Introduce me, please," said the elegant little city boy.
+
+"Interduce your grandma's pussy cats," mocked Jimmy. "Set down, I tell
+you."
+
+Frances and Lina made room for him between them and soon gave him their
+undivided attention, to the intense envy and disgust of the other two
+little boys.
+
+"I am Lina Hamilton," said the little girl on his right.
+
+"And I'm Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to treat you like
+he does."
+
+"I knows a turrible skeery tale," remarked a malicious Billy, looking at
+Lina and Frances. "If y' all wa'n't girls I 'd tell it to you."
+
+"We aren't any more scared 'n you, William Hill," cried Frances, her
+interest at once aroused; "I already know 'bout 'raw meat and bloody
+bones' and nothing's scarier 'n that."
+
+"And I know 'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be
+he alive or be he dead, I'll ground his bones to make me bread,"' said
+Lina.
+
+"This-here tale," continued Billy, glueing his big eyes to those of the
+little stranger, "is one Tabernicle learnt fer a speech at school. It's
+all 'bout a 'oman what was buriet in a graveyard with a diamant ring on
+her finger, an' a robber come in the night--"
+
+The child's tones were guttural, thrilling, and hair-raising as he
+glared into the eyes of the effeminate Leon, "an' a robber come in the
+night an' try to cut it off, an' ha'nts was groanin' an' the win' moan
+'oo-oo' an--"
+
+Leon could stand it no longer.
+
+"I am going right back," he cried rising with round, frightened eyes,
+"I am not going to sit here and listen to you, scaring little girls to
+death. You are a bad boy to scare Lina and Frances and I am not going
+to associate with you;" and this champion of the fair sex stalked with
+dignity across the yard to the gate.
+
+"I'm no more scared 'n nothing," and indignant Frances hurled at his
+back, "you're just scared yourself."
+
+Jimmy giggled happily. "What'd I tell you all," he cried, gleefully.
+"Lina and Frances got to all time set little 'fraid cats 'tween 'em," he
+snorted. "It's just like I tell you, he's the sissyest boy they is; and
+he don't care who kiss him neither; he'll let any woman kiss him what
+wants to. Can't no woman at all 'cepting my mama and Miss Cecilia kiss
+me. But Leon is 'bout the kissingest kid they is; why, he'd just as
+soon's not let Frances and Lina kiss him; he ain't got no better sense.
+'Course I gotta let Miss Cecilia kiss me 'cause she's 'bout the plumpest
+Sunday-School teacher they is and the Bible say 'If your Sunday-School
+teacher kiss you on one cheek turn the other cheek and let her kiss you
+on that, too,' and I all time bound to do what the Bible say. You 'd
+better call him back, Frances, and kiss him, you and Lina 're so stuck
+on him."
+
+"I wouldn't kiss him to save his life," declared Frances; "he's got the
+spindliest legs I ever saw."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+                    RISING IN THE WORLD
+
+
+The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of paint upon
+the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva's long back-porch. And he left his
+ladder leaning against the house while he went inside to confer with her
+in regard to some other work.
+
+Billy, Jimmy, Frances, and Lina had been playing "Fox and Geese."
+Running around the house they spied the ladder and saw no owner to deny
+them.
+
+"Le's clam' up and get on top the porch," suggested Jimmy.
+
+"Aunt Minerva'll put me to bed if I do," said Billy.
+
+"Mother'll make me learn a whole page of the catechism if I climb a
+ladder," said Lina.
+
+"My mama'll shut me up in the closet, but our mamas aren't bound to know
+'bout it,"--this from Frances. "Come on, let's climb up."
+
+"I ain't neverpromise not to clam' no ladder but--" Billy hesitated.
+
+"You-all 'bout the skeeriest folks they is," sneered Jimmy. "Mama'll
+whip me going and coming if she finds out 'bout it, but I ain't skeered.
+I dare anybody to dare me to clam' up."
+
+"I dare you to climb this ladder," responded an accommodating Frances.
+
+"I ain't never tooken a dare yet," boasted the little boy proudly, his
+foot on the bottom rung. "Who's going to foller me?"
+
+"Don't we have fun?" cried a jubilant Frances.
+
+"Yes," answered Jimmy; "if grown folks don't all time be watching you
+and sticking theirselfs in your way."
+
+"If people would let us alone," remarked Lina, "we could enjoy ourselves
+every day."
+
+"But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time," cried
+Jimmy, "they don't never want us to play together."
+
+He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy; and Lina
+brought up the rear. The children ran the long length of the porch
+leaving their footprints on the fresh, sticky paint.
+
+"Will it wash off?" asked Frances, looking gloomily down at her feet,
+which seemed to be encased in green moccasins.
+
+At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the roof. When
+the others helped her to her feet, she was a sight to behold, her white
+dress splotched with vivid green from top to bottom.
+
+"If that ain't jus' like you, Frances," Jimmy exclaimed; "you all time
+got to fall down and get paint on your dress so we can't 'ceive nobody.
+Now our mamas bound to know 'bout us clamming up here."
+
+"They would know it anyhow," mourned Lina; "we'll never get this paint
+off of our feet. We had better get right down and see if we can't wash
+some of it off."
+
+While they were talking the owner of the ladder, who had not noticed
+them--and was deaf in the bargain--had quietly removed it from the
+back-porch and carried it around to the front of the house.
+
+The children looked at each other in consternation when they perceived
+their loss.
+
+"What we goin' to do now?" asked Billy.
+
+"If this ain't just like Billy, all time got to perpose to clam' a
+ladder and all time got to let the ladder get loose from him," growled
+Jimmy. "We done cooked a goose egg, this time. You got us up here,
+Billy, how you going to get us down?"
+
+"I didn't, neither."
+
+"Well, it's Miss Minerva's house and she's your aunt and we's your
+company and you got to be 'sponsible."
+
+"I can clam' down this-here post," said the responsible party.
+
+"I can climb down it, too," seconded Frances.
+
+"You can't clam' down nothing at all," said Jimmy contemptuously. "Talk
+'bout you can clam' down a post; you'd fall and bust yourself wide open;
+you 'bout the clumsiest girl there is; 'sides, your legs 're too fat."
+
+"We can holla," was Lina's suggestion.
+
+"And have grown folks laughing fit to pop their sides open? I'm 'shame'
+to go anywheres now 'cause folks all time telling me when I'm going
+to dye some more Easter eggs! Naw, we better not holler," said Jimmy.
+"Ain't you going to do nothing, Billy?"
+
+"I'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to bring
+his ladder back. Y' all wait up here."
+
+Billy's solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they were soon
+released from their elevated prison.
+
+"I might as well go home and be learning the catechism," groaned Lina.
+
+"I'm going to get right in the closet soon's I get to my house," said
+Frances.
+
+"Go on and put on your night-shirt, Billy." Billy took himself to the
+bath-room and scrubbed and scrubbed; but the paint refused to come off.
+He tiptoed by the kitchen where his aunt was cooking dinner and ran into
+his own room.
+
+He found the shoes and stockings which were reserved for Sunday wear,
+and soon had them upon his little feet.
+
+Miss Minerva rang the dinner-bell and he walked quietly into the
+dining-room trying to make as little noise and to attract as little
+attention from his aunt as possible; but she fastened her eyes at once
+upon his feet.
+
+"What are you doing with your shoes on, William?" she asked.
+
+Billy glanced nonchalantly at her.
+
+"Don't you think, Aunt Minerva," he made answer, "I's gittin' too big
+to go 'thout any shoes? I's mos' ready to put on long pants, an' how'd
+I look, I'd jest like to know, goin' roun' barefooted an' got on long
+breeches. I don' believe I'll go barefooted no mo'--I'll jest wear my
+shoes ev'y day."
+
+"I just believe you won't. Go take them off at once and hurry back to
+your dinner."
+
+"Lemme jest wait tell I eats," he begged, hoping to postpone the evil
+hour of exposure.
+
+"No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands."
+
+Miss Minerva spied the paint the instant he made his second entrance and
+immediately inquired, "How did you get that paint on your feet?"
+
+The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at her with his
+sweet, attractive, winning smile.
+
+"Paint pertec's little boys' feets," he said, "an' keeps 'em f'om
+gittin' hurted, Aunt Minerva, don't it?"
+
+Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her undivided
+attention.
+
+"You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William; now tell me
+all about it. Are you afraid of me?"
+
+"Yas 'm," was his prompt response, "an' I don't want to be put to bed
+neither. The Major he wouldn't put little boys to bed day times."
+
+She blushed and eyed him thoughtfully. She was making slow progress with
+the child, she knew, yet she still felt it her stern duty to be very
+strict with him and, having laid down certain rules to rear him by, she
+wished to adhere to them.
+
+"William," she said after he had made a full confession, "I won't punish
+you this time for I know that Jimmy led you into it but--"
+
+"Naw'm, Jimmy didn't. Me an' him an' Frances an' Lina's all 'sponsible,
+but I promise you, Aunt Minerva, not to clam' no mo' ladders."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+                     PRETENDING REALITY
+
+
+The chain-gang had been working in the street not far from Miss
+Minerva's house, and Lina, Frances, Billy and Jimmy had hung on her
+front fence for an hour, watching them with eager interest. The negroes
+were chained together in pairs, and guarded by two, big, burly white
+men.
+
+"Let's us play chain-gang," suggested Jimmy.
+
+"Where we goin' to git a chain?" queried Billy; "'t won't be no fun
+'thout a lock an' chain."
+
+"I can get the lock and chain off 'm Sarah Jane's cabin."
+
+"Yo' mama don't 'low you to go to her cabin," said Billy.
+
+"My mama don't care if I just borra a lock and chain; so I 'm going to
+get it."
+
+"I'm going to be the perlice of the gang," said Frances.
+
+"Perlice nothing. You all time talking 'bout you going to be the
+perlice," scoffed Jimmy. "I'm going to be the perlice myself."
+
+"No, you are not," interposed Lina, firmly. "Billy and I are the tallest
+and we are going to be the guards, and you and Frances must be the
+prisoners."
+
+"Well, I ain't going to play 'thout I can be the boss of the niggers.
+It's Sarah Jane's chain and she's my mama's cook, and I'm going to be
+what I please."
+
+"I'll tell you what do," was Billy's suggestion, "we'll take it turn
+about; me an' Lina'll firs' be the perlice an' y' all be the chain-gang,
+an' then we'll be the niggers an' y' all be the bosses."
+
+This arrangement was satisfactory, so the younger boy climbed the fence
+and soon returned with a short chain and padlock.
+
+Billy chained Jimmy and Frances together by two round, fat ankles and
+put the key to the lock in his pocket.
+
+"We must decide what crimes they have committed," said Lina.
+
+"Frances done got 'rested fer shootin' craps an' Jimmy done got 'rested
+fer 'sturbin' public worship," said the other boss.
+
+"Naw, I ain't neither," objected the male member of the chain-gang, "I
+done cut my woman with a razor 'cause I see her racking down the street
+like a proud coon with another gent, like what Sarah Jane's brother
+telled me he done at the picnic."
+
+The children played happily together for half an hour, Billy and Lina
+commanding, and the prisoners, entering thoroughly into the spirit
+of the game, according prompt obedience to their bosses. At last the
+captives wearied of their role and clamored for an exchange of parts.
+
+"All right," agreed Lina. "Get the key, Billy, and we'll be the
+chain-gang."
+
+Billy put his right hand in his pocket but found no key there; he tried
+the other pocket with the same success; he felt in his blouse, he looked
+in his cap, he jumped up and down, he nearly shook himself to pieces all
+without avail; the key had disappeared as if by magic.
+
+"I berlieve y' all done los' that key," concluded he.
+
+"Maybe it dropped on the ground," said Frances.
+
+They searched the yard over, but the key was not to be found.
+
+"Well, if that ain't just like you, Billy," cried Jimmy, "you all time
+perposing to play chain-gang and you all time lose the key."
+
+Lina grew indignant.
+
+"You proposed this yourself, Jimmy Garner," she said; "we never would
+have thought of playing chain-gang but for you."
+
+"It looks like we can't never do anything at all," moaned Frances,
+"'thout grown folks 've got to know 'bout it."
+
+"Yes, and laugh fit to pop theirselfs open," said her fellow-prisoner.
+"I can't never pass by Owen Gibbs and Len Hamner now 'thout they laugh
+just like idjets and grin just like pole-cats."
+
+"I ain't never hear tell of a pole-cat grinnin'," corrected Billy, "he
+jes' smell worser 'n what a billy goat do."
+
+"It is Chessy cats that grin," explained Lina.
+
+"Look like folks would get 'em a lot of pole-cats stead o' chillens
+always hafto be wearing assfetty bags 'round their nakes, so's they can
+keep off whopping-cough," said Frances.
+
+"You can't wear a pole-cat roun' yo' nake," grinned Billy.
+
+"And Len Hamner all time now asking me," Jimmy continued, "when I'm
+going to wear Sarah Jane's co'set to Sunday-School. Grown folks 'bout
+the lunatickest things they is. Ain't you going to unlock this chain,
+Billy?" he demanded.
+
+"What I got to unlock it with?" asked Billy.
+
+As Jimmy's father was taking the crestfallen chaingang to the blacksmith
+shop to have their fetters removed, they had to pass by the livery
+stable; and Sam Lamb, bent double with intoxicating mirth at their
+predicament, yelled:
+
+"Lordee! Lordee! Y' all sho' is de outlandishest kids 'twixt de Bad
+Place an' de moon."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+                   A TRANSACTION IN MUMPS
+
+
+"Don't you come near me," screamed Billy, sauntering slowly and
+deliberately toward the dividing fence; "keep way f'om me; they's
+ketchin'."
+
+Jimmy was sitting on his front steps and the proverbial red flag could
+not have excited a bull to quicker action. He hopped down the steps and
+ran across his own yard toward Billy as fast as his short, fat legs,
+could carry him.
+
+"Git 'way f'om me; you'll ketch 'em if you teches me," warned Billy;
+"an' you too little to have 'em," and he waved an authoritative hand at
+the other child. But Jimmy's curiosity was aroused to the highest
+pitch. He promptly jumped the fence and gazed at his chum with critical
+admiration.
+
+"What's the matter," he inquired, "you got the toothache?"
+
+"Toothache!" was the scornful echo, "well, I reckon not. Git back; don't
+you tech 'em; you ain't ol' 'nough to have 'em."
+
+Billy's head was swathed in a huge, white cloth; his usually lean little
+cheeks were puffed out till he resembled a young hippopotamus, and his
+pretty grey eyes were almost invisible.
+
+"You better git 'way f'om me an' don't tech 'em, like I tells you," he
+reiterated. "Aunt Minerva say you ain't never had 'em an' she say fer me
+to make you keep 'way f'om me 'cause you ain't a ol' chile like what I
+is."
+
+"You ain't but six," retorted angry Jimmy, "and I'll be six next month;
+you all time trying to 'suade little boys to think you're 'bout a
+million years old. What's the matter with you, anyhow? You 'bout the
+funniest looking kid they is."
+
+Billy theatrically touched a distended cheek. "These here is mumps,"
+he said impressively; "an' when you got 'em you can make grown folks do
+perzactly what you want 'em to. Aunt Minerva's in the kitchen right now
+makin' me a 'lasses custard if I'll be good an' stay right in the house
+an' don't come out here in the yard an' don't give you the mumps. Course
+I can't tech that custard now 'cause I done come out here an' it ain't
+honer'ble; but she's makin' it jes' the same. You better git 'way f'om
+me an' not tech 'em; you too little to have 'em."
+
+"Are they easy to ketch?" asked the other little boy eagerly; "lemme
+jest tech 'em one time, Billy."
+
+"Git 'way, I tell you," warned the latter with a superior air. To
+increase Jimmy's envy he continued: "Grown folks tries to see how nice
+they can be to chillens what's got the mumps. Aunt Minerva ain't been
+impedent to me to-day; she lemme do jest 'bout like I please; it sho'
+is one time you can make grown folks step lively." He looked at Jimmy
+meditatively, "It sho' is a plumb pity you ain't a ol' chile like what I
+is an' can't have the mumps. Yo' ma 'd be skeered to spank you, skeered
+she 'd injuh yo' mumps. Don't you come any closter to me," he again
+warned, "you too little to have 'em."
+
+"I'll give you five peewees if you'll lemme tech 'em so 's I can get
+'em," pleaded the younger boy.
+
+Billy hesitated. "You mighty little--" he began.
+
+"And my stoney," said the other child eagerly.
+
+"If you was a ol' little boy," said Billy, "it wouldn't make no
+diffunce; I don't want to make yo' ma mad an' Aunt Minerva say for me to
+keep 'way f'om you anyhow, though I didn't make her no promises."
+
+Jimmy grew angry.
+
+"You're the stingiest Peter they is, William Hill," he cried; "won't let
+nobody tech your old mumps. My cousin in Memphis's got the measles; you
+just wait till I get 'em."
+
+Billy eyed him critically.
+
+"If you was ol'--" he was beginning.
+
+Jimmy thought he saw signs of his yielding.
+
+"And I'll give you my china egg, too," he quickly proposed.
+
+"Well, jest one tech," agreed Billy; "an' I ain't a-goin' to be
+'sponsible neither," and he poked out a swollen jaw for Jimmy to touch.
+
+Ikey Rosenstein at this moment was spied by the two little boys as he
+was Walking jauntily by the gate.
+
+"You better keep 'way f'om here, Goose-Grease," Jimmy yelled at him;
+"you better get on the other side the street. Billy here's got the mumps
+an' he lemme tech 'em so's I can get 'em, so's my papa and mama'll lemme
+do just perzactly like I want to; but you're a Jew and Jews ain't got no
+business to have the mumps, so you better get 'way. I paid Billy 'bout
+a million dollars' worth to lemme tech his mumps," he said proudly. "Get
+'way; you can't have em."
+
+Ikey had promptly stopped at the gate.
+
+"What'll you take, Billy, to lemme get 'em?" he asked, his commercial
+spirit at once aroused.
+
+"What'll you gimme?" asked he of the salable commodity, with an eye to a
+bargain.
+
+Ikey pulled out a piece of twine and a blue glass bead from his
+pocket and offered them to the child with the mumps. These received a
+contemptuous rejection.
+
+"You can do perzactly like you please when you got the mumps,"
+insinuated Jimmy, who had seemingly allied himself with Billy as a
+partner in business; "grown folks bound to do what little boys want 'em
+to when you got the mumps."
+
+Ikey increased his bid by the stub of a lead pencil, but it was not
+until he had parted with his most cherished pocket possessions that he
+was at last allowed to place a gentle finger on the protuberant cheek.
+
+Two little girls with their baby-buggies were seen approaching.
+
+"G' 'way from here, Frances, you and Lina," howled Jimmy. "Don't you
+come in here; me and Billy's got the mumps and you-all 'r' little girls
+and ought n' to have 'em. Don't you come near us; they 're ketching."
+
+The two little girls immediately opened the gate, crossed the yard, mid
+stood in front of Billy. They inspected him with admiration; he bore
+their critical survey with affected unconcern and indifference, as
+befitted one who had attained such prominence.
+
+"Don't tech 'em," he commanded, waving them off as he leaned gracefully
+against the fence.
+
+"I teched 'em," boasted the younger boy. "What'll you all give us if we
+Il let you put your finger on 'em?"
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to charge little girls nothin'," said the gallant
+Billy, as he proffered his swollen jowl to each in turn.
+
+A little darkey riding a big black horse was galloping by; Jimmy hailed
+and halted him.
+
+"You better go fast," he shrieked. "Me and Billy and Frances and Lina's
+got the mumps and you ain't got no business to have 'em 'cause you're
+a nigger, and you better take your horse to the lib'ry stable 'cause he
+might ketch 'em too."
+
+The negro boy dismounted and hitched his horse to the fence. "I gotter
+little tarrapim--" he began insinuatingly.
+
+And thus it came to pass that there was an epidemic of mumps in the
+little town of Covington, and William Green Hill grew rich in marbles,
+in tops, in strings, in toads, in chewing gum, and in many other things
+which comprise the pocket treasures of little boys.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                   THE INFANT MIND SHOOTS
+
+
+Miss Minerva had bought a book for Billy entitled "Stories of Great
+and Good Men," which she frequently read to him for his education and
+improvement. These stories related the principal events in the lives of
+the heroes but never mentioned any names, always asking at the end, "Can
+you tell me who this man was?"
+
+Her nephew heard the stories so often that he had some expression or
+incident by which he could identify each, without paying much attention
+while she was reading.
+
+He and his aunt had just settled themselves on the porch for a reading.
+
+Jimmy was on his own porch cutting up funny capers, and making faces for
+the other child's amusement.
+
+"Lemme go over to Jimmy's, Aunt Minerva," pleaded her nephew, "an' you
+can read to me to-night. I 'd a heap ruther not hear you read right now.
+It'll make my belly ache."
+
+Miss Minerva looked at him severely.
+
+"William," she enjoined, "don't you want to be a smart man when you grow
+up?"
+
+"Yes 'm," he replied, without much enthusiasm. "Well, jes' lemme ask
+Jimmy to come over here an' set on the other sider you whils' you read.
+He ain't never hear 'bout them tales, an' I s'pec' he'd like to come."
+
+"Very well," replied his flattered and gratified relative, "call him
+over."
+
+Billy went to the fence, where he signaled Jimmy to meet him.
+
+"Aunt Minerva say you come over an' listen to her read some er the
+pretties' tales you ever hear," he said, as if conferring a great favor.
+
+"Naw, sirree-bob!" was the impolite response across the fence, "them
+'bout the measliest tales they is. I'll come if she'll read my Uncle
+Remus book."
+
+"Please come on," begged Billy, dropping the patronizing manner that he
+had assumed, in hope of inducing his chum to share his martyrdom. "You
+know Aunt Minerva'd die in her tracks 'fore she'd read Uncle Remus.
+You'll like these-here tales 'nother sight better anyway. I'll give you
+my stoney if you'll come."
+
+"Naw; you ain't going to get me in no such box as that. If she'd just
+read seven or eight hours I wouldn't mind; but she'll get you where she
+wants you and read 'bout a million hours. I know Miss Minerva."
+
+Billy's aunt was growing impatient.
+
+"Come, William," she called. "I am waiting for you."
+
+Jimmy went back to his own porch and the other boy joined his kinswoman.
+
+"Why wouldn't Jimmy come?" she asked.
+
+"He--he ain't feeling very well," was the considerate rejoinder.
+
+"Once there was a little boy who was born in Virginia--" began Miss
+Minerva.
+
+"Born in a manger," repeated the inattentive little boy to himself, "I
+knows who that was." So, this important question settled in his mind, he
+gave himself up to the full enjoyment of his chum and to the giving and
+receiving secret signals, the pleasure of which was decidedly enhanced
+by the fear of imminent detection.
+
+"Father, I can not tell a lie, I did it with my little hatchet,--" read
+the thin, monotonous voice at his elbow.
+
+Billy laughed aloud--at that minute Jimmy was standing on his head
+waving two chubby feet in the air.
+
+"William," said his aunt reprovingly, peering at him over her
+spectacles, "I don't see anything to laugh at,"--and she did not, but
+then she was in ignorance of the little conspiracy.
+
+"He was a good and dutiful son and he studied his lessons so well that
+when he was only seventeen years old he was employed to survey vast
+tracts of land in Virginia--"
+
+Miss Minerva emphasized every word, hoping thus to impress her nephew.
+But he was so busy, keeping one eye on her and one on the little boy on
+the other porch, that he did not have time to use his ears at all and so
+did not hear one word.
+
+"Leaving his camp fires burning to deceive the enemy, he stole around by
+a circuitous route, fell upon the British and captured--"
+
+Billy held up his hands to catch a ball which Jimmy made believe to
+throw.
+
+Miss Minerva still read on, unconscious of her nephew's inattention:
+
+"The suffering at Valley Forge had been intense during the winter--"
+
+Billy made a pretense behind his aunt's upright back of throwing a ball
+while the other child held up two fat little hands to receive it. Again
+he laughed aloud as Jimmy spat on his hands and ground the imaginary
+ball into his hip.
+
+She looked at him sternly over her glasses:
+
+"What makes you so silly?" she inquired, and without waiting for a reply
+went on with her reading; she was nearing the close now and she read
+carefully and deliberately.
+
+"And he was chosen the first president of the United States."
+
+Billy put his hands to his ears and wriggled his fingers at Jimmy, who
+promptly returned the compliment.
+
+"He had no children of his own, so he is called the Father of his
+Country."
+
+Miss Minerva closed the book, turned to the little boy at her side, and
+asked:
+
+"Who was this great and good man, William?"
+
+"Jesus," was his ready answer, in an appropriately solemn little voice.
+
+"Why, William Green Hill!" she exclaimed in disgust. "What are you
+thinking of? I don't believe you heard one word that I read."
+
+Billy was puzzled; he was sure she had said "Born in a manger." "I
+didn't hear her say nothin' 'bout bulrushes," he thought, "so 'tain't
+Moses; she didn't say 'log cabin,' so 'tain't Ab'aham Lincoln; she
+didn't say 'Thirty cents look down upon you,' so 'tain't Napolyon. I
+sho' wish I'd paid 'tention."
+
+"Jesus!" his aunt was saying, "born in Virginia and first president of
+the United States!"
+
+"George Washin'ton, I aimed to say," triumphantly screamed the little
+boy, who had received his cue.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER, XXIV
+
+                    A FLAW IN THE TITLE
+
+
+"Come on over," invited Jimmy.
+
+"All right; I believe I will," responded Billy, running to the fence.
+His aunt's peremptory voice arrested his footsteps.
+
+"William, come here!" she called from the porch.
+
+He reluctantly retraced his steps.
+
+"I am going back to the kitchen to bake a cake and I want you to promise
+me not to leave the yard."
+
+"Lemme jes' go over to Jimmy's a little while," he begged.
+
+"No; you and Jimmy can not be trusted together; you are sure to get into
+mischief, and his mother and I have decided to keep the fence between
+you for a while. Now, promise me that you will stay right in my yard."
+
+Billy sullenly gave her the promise and she went back to her baking.
+
+"That's always the way now," he said, meeting his little neighbor at the
+fence, "ever sence Aunt Minerva got onto this-here promisin' business,
+I don' have no freedom 't all. It's 'William, promise me this,' an' it's
+'William, don't ferget yo' promise now,' tell I's jes' plumb sick
+'n tired of it. She know I ain't goin' back on my word an' she jest
+nachelly gits the 'vantage of me; she 'bout the hardest 'oman to manage
+I ever seen sence I's born."
+
+"I can nearly all time make my mama do anything 'most if I jus' keep on
+trying and keep on a-begging," bragged the other boy; "I just say
+'May I, mama?' and she'll all time say, 'No, go 'way from me and lemme
+'lone,' and I just keep on, 'May I, mama? May I, mama? May I, mama? 'and
+toreckly she'll say, 'Yes, go on and lemme read in peace.'"
+
+"Aunt Minerva won't give in much," said Billy. "When she say 'No,
+William,' 'tain't no use 'tall to beg her; you jest wastin' yo' breath.
+When she put her foot down it got to go just like she say; she sho' do
+like to have her own way better 'n any 'oman I ever see."
+
+"She 'bout the mannishest woman they is," agreed Jimmy. "She got you
+under her thumb, Billy. I don' see what womans 're made fo' if you can't
+beg 'em into things. I wouldn't let no old spunky Miss Minerva get the
+best of me that 'way. Come on, anyhow."
+
+"Naw, I can't come," was the gloomy reply; "if she'd jest tol' me not
+to, I coulder went but she made me promise, an' I ain't never goin' back
+on my word. You come over to see me."
+
+"I can't," came the answer across the fence; "I'm earning me a baseball
+mask. I done already earnt me a mitt. My mama don't never make me
+promise her nothing, she just pays me to be good. That's huccome I'm
+'bout to get 'ligion and go to the mourner's bench. She's gone up town
+now and if I don't go outside the yard while she's gone, she's going
+to gimme a baseball mask. You got a ball what you bringed from the
+plantation, and I'll have a bat and mitt and mask and we can play ball
+some. Come on over just a little while; you ain't earning you nothing
+like what I'm doing."
+
+"Naw; I promis' her not to an' I ain't ever goin' to break my promise."
+
+"Well, then, Mr. Promiser," said Jimmy, "go get your ball and we'll
+th'ow 'cross the fence. I can't find mine."
+
+Billy kept his few toys and playthings in a closet, which was full of
+old plunder. As he reached for his ball something fell at his feet from
+a shelf above. He picked it up, and ran excitedly into the yard.
+
+"Look, Jimmy," he yelled, "here's a baseball mask I found in the
+closet."
+
+Jimmy, forgetful of the fact that he was to be paid for staying at home,
+immediately rolled over the fence and ran eagerly toward his friend.
+They examined the article in question with great care.
+
+"It looks perzactly like a mask," announced Jimmy after a thorough
+inspection, "and yet it don't." He tried it on. "It don't seem to fit
+your face right," he said.
+
+Sarah Jane was bearing down upon them. "Come back home dis minute,
+Jimmy!" she shrieked, "want to ketch some mo' contagwous 'seases, don't
+yuh? What dat y' all got now?" As she drew nearer a smile of recognition
+and appreciation overspread her big good-natured face. Then she burst
+into a loud, derisive laugh. "What y' all gwine to do wid Miss Minerva's
+old bustle?" she enquired. "Y' all sho' am de contaritest chillens in
+dis here copperation."
+
+"Bustle?" echoed Billy, "What's a bustle?"
+
+"Dat-ar's a bustle--dat's what's a bustle. Ladies useto wear 'em 'cause
+dey so stylish to make they dresses stick out in the back. Come on home,
+Jimmy, 'fore yuh ketch de yaller jandis er de epizootics; yo' ma tol'
+yuh to stay right at home."
+
+"Well, I'm coming, ain't I?" scowled the little boy. "Mama needn't to
+know nothing 'thout you tell."
+
+"Would you take yo' mama's present now, Jimmy?" asked Billy; "you ain't
+earnt it."
+
+"Wouldn't you?" asked Jimmy, doubtfully.
+
+"Naw, I would n't, not 'thout I tol' her."
+
+"Well, I'll tell her I just comed over a minute to see 'bout Miss
+Minerva's bustle," he agreed as he again tumbled over the fence.
+
+A little negro boy, followed by a tiny, white dog, was passing by Miss
+Minerva's gate.
+
+Billy promptly flew to the gate and hailed him. Jimmy, looking around
+to see that Sarah Jane had gone back to the kitchen, as promptly rolled
+over the fence and joined him.
+
+"Lemme see yo' dog," said the former.
+
+"Ain't he cute?" said the latter.
+
+The little darkey picked up the dog and passed it across the gate.
+
+"I wish he was mine," said the smaller child, as he took the soft,
+fluffy little ball in his arms; "what'll you take for him?"
+
+The negro boy had never seen the dog before, but he immediately accepted
+the ownership thrust upon him and answered without hesitation, "I'll
+take a dollar for her."
+
+"I ain't got but a nickel. Billy, ain't you got 'nough money to put with
+my nickel to make a dollar?"
+
+"Naw; I ain't got a red cent."
+
+"I'll tell you what we'll do," suggested Jimmy; "we'll trade you a
+baseball mask for him. My mama's going to give me a new mask 'cause
+I all time stay at home; so we'll trade you our old one. Go get it,
+Billy."
+
+Thus commanded Billy ran and picked up the bustle where it lay neglected
+on the grass and handed it to the quasi-owner of the puppy.
+
+The deal was promptly closed and a little black negro went grinning down
+the street with Miss Minerva's old bustle tied across his face, leaving
+behind him a curly-haired dog.
+
+"Ain't he sweet?" said Jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close to his
+breast, "we got to name him, Billy."
+
+"Le's name her Peruny Pearline," was the suggestion of the other joint
+owner.
+
+"He ain't going to be name' nothing at all like that," declared Jimmy;
+"you all time got to name our dogs the scalawaggest name they is. He's
+going to be name' 'Sam Lamb' 'cause he's my partner."
+
+"She's a girl dog," argued Billy, "an' she can't be name' no man's name.
+If she could I'd call her Major."
+
+"I don't care what sort o' dog he is, girl or boy, he's going to be
+name' 'Sam Lamb'!" and he fondly stroked the little animal's soft head.
+
+"Here, Peruny! Here, Peruny!" and Billy tried to snatch her away.
+
+The boys heard a whistle; the dog heard it, too. Springing from the
+little boy's arms Sam Lamb Peruny Pearline ran under the gate and flew
+to meet her master, who was looking for her.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+                  EDUCATION AND ITS PERILS
+
+
+It was a warm day in early August and the four children were sitting
+contentedly in the swing. They met almost every afternoon now, but were
+generally kept under strict surveillance by Miss Minerva.
+
+"'Twon't be long 'fore we'll all hafto go to school," remarked Frances,
+"and I'll be mighty sorry; I wish we didn't ever hafto go to any old
+school."
+
+"I wisht we knowed how to read an' write when we's born," said Billy.
+"If I was God I'd make all my babies so's they is already eddicated when
+they gits born. Reckon if we'd pray evy night an' ask God, He'd learn
+them babies what He's makin' on now how to read an' write?"
+
+"I don' care nothing at all 'bout them babies," put in Jimmy, "'tain't
+going to do us no good if all the new babies what Doctor Sanford finds
+can read and write; it'd jes' make 'em the sassiest things ever was.
+'Sides, I got plenty things to ask God for 'thout fooling long other
+folks' brats, and I ain't going to meddle with God's business nohow."
+
+"Did you all hear what Miss Larrimore, who teaches the little children
+at school, said about us?" asked Lina importantly.
+
+"Naw," they chorused, "what was it?"
+
+"She told the Super'ntendent," was the reply of Lina, pleased with
+herself and with that big word, "that she would have to have more money
+next year, for she heard that Lina Hamilton, Frances Black, William
+Hill, and Jimmy Garner were all coming to school, and she said we were
+the most notorious bad children in town."
+
+"She is the spitefullest woman they is," Jimmy's black eyes snapped;
+"she 'bout the meddlesomest teacher in that school."
+
+"Who telled you 'bout it, Lina?" questioned the other little girl.
+
+"The Super'ntendent told his wife and you know how some ladies
+are,--they just can't keep a secret. Now it is just like burying it
+to tell mother anything; she never tells anybody but father, and
+grandmother, and grandfather, and Uncle Ed, and Brother Johnson, and
+she makes them promise never to breathe it to a living soul. But the
+Super'ntendent's wife is different; she tells ever'thing she hears, and
+now everybody knows what that teacher said about us."
+
+"Everybody says she is the crankiest teacher they is," cried Jimmy, "she
+won't let you bring nothing to school 'cepting your books; you can't
+even take your slingshot, nor your air-gun, nor--"
+
+"Nor your dolls," chimed in Frances, "and she won't let you bat your
+eye, nor say a word, nor cross your legs, nor blow your nose."
+
+"What do she think we's goin' to her of school fer if we can't have
+fun?" asked Billy. "Tabernicle sho' had fun when he went to school. He
+put a pin in the teacher's chair an' she set down on it plumb up to the
+head, an' he tie the strings together what two nigger gals had they hair
+wropped with, an' he squoze up a little boy's legs in front of him with
+a rooster foot tell he squalled out loud, an' he th'owed spitballs, an'
+he make him some watermelon teeth, an' he paint a chicken light red an'
+tuck it to the teacher fer a dodo, an' he put cotton in his pants 'fore
+he got licked, an' he drawed the teacher on a slate. That's what you
+go to school fer is to have fun, an' I sho' is goin' to have fun when I
+goes, an' I ain't goin' to take no bulldozin' offer her, neither."
+
+"I bet we can squelch her," cried Frances, vindictively.
+
+"Yes, we'll show her a thing or two"--for once Jimmy agreed with her,
+"she 'bout the butt-in-est old woman they is, and she's going to find
+out we 'bout the squelchingest kids ever she tackle."
+
+"Alfred Gage went to school to her last year," said Frances, "and he can
+read and write."
+
+"Yes," joined in Jimmy, "and he 'bout the proudest boy they is; all time
+got to write his name all over everything."
+
+"You 'member 'bout last Communion Sunday," went on the little girl,
+"when they hand roun' the little envellups and telled all the folks
+what was willing to give five dollars more on the pastor's sal'y just to
+write his name; so Alfred he so frisky 'cause he know how to write; so
+he tooken one of the little envellups and wroten 'Alfred Gage' on it; so
+when his papa find out 'bout it he say that kid got to work and pay that
+five dollars hi'self, 'cause he done sign his name to it."
+
+"And if he ain't 'bout the sickest kid they is," declared Jimmy; "I'll
+betcher he won't get fresh no more soon. He telled me the other day he
+ain't had a drink of soda water this summer, 'cause every nickel he
+gets got to go to Mr. Pastor's sal'ry; he says he plumb tired supporting
+Brother Johnson and all his family; and, he say, every time he go up
+town he sees Johnny Johnson a-setting on a stool in Baltzer's drug store
+just a-swigging milk-shakes; he says he going to knock him off some day
+'cause it's his nickels that kid's a-spending."
+
+There was a short silence, broken by Billy, who remarked, apropos of
+nothing:
+
+"I sho' is glad I don't hafter be a 'oman when I puts on long pants,
+mens is heap mo' account."
+
+"I wouldn't be a woman for nothing at all," Jimmy fully agreed with him;
+"they have the pokiest time they is."
+
+"I'm glad I am going to be a young lady when I grow up," Lina declared,
+"I wouldn't be a gentleman for anything. I'm going to wear pretty
+clothes and be beautiful and be a belle like mother was, and have lots
+of lovers kneel at my feet on one knee and play the guitar with the
+other."
+
+"How they goin' to play the guitar with they other knee?" asked the
+practical Billy.
+
+"And sing 'Call Me Thine Own,'" she continued, ignoring his
+interruption. "Father got on his knees to mother thirty-seven-and-a-half
+times before she'd say, 'I will."'
+
+"Look like he'd 'a' wore his breeches out," said Billy.
+
+"I don't want to be a lady," declared Frances; "they can't ever ride
+straddle nor climb a tree, and they got to squinch up their waists and
+toes. I wish I could kiss my elbow right now and turn to a boy."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+                  UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
+
+
+"They's going to be a big nigger 'scursion to Memphis at 'leven
+o'clock," said Jimmy as he met the other little boy at the dividing
+fence; "Sam Lamb's going and 'most all the niggers they is. Sarah Jane
+'lowed she's going, but she ain't got nobody to 'tend to Bennie Dick.
+Wouldn't you like to go, Billy?"
+
+"You can't go 'thout you's a nigger," was the reply; "Sam Lamb say
+they ain't no white folks 'lowed on this train 'cepin' the engineer an'
+conductor."
+
+"Sam Lamb'd take care of us if we could go," continued Jimmy. "Let's
+slip off and go down to the depot and see the niggers get on. There'll
+be 'bout a million."
+
+Billy's eyes sparkled with appreciation.
+
+"I sho' wish I could," he said; "but Aunt Minerva'd make me stay in bed
+a whole week if I want near the railroad."
+
+"My mama 'd gimme 'bout a million licks, too, if I projeckted with a
+nigger 'scursion she 'bout the spankingest woman they is. My papa put
+some burnt cork on his face in the Knights er Pythi's minstrels and I
+know where we can get some to make us black; you go get Miss Minerva's
+ink bottle too, that'll help some, and get some matches, and I'll go get
+the cork and we can go to Sarah Jane's house and make usselfs black."
+
+"I ain't never promise not to black up and go down to the depot," said
+Billy waveringly. "I promise not to never be no mo' Injun--I--"
+
+"Well, run then," Jimmy interrupted impatiently. "We'll just slip down
+to the railroad and take a look at the niggers. You don't hafto get on
+the train just 'cause you down to the depot."
+
+So Miss Minerva's nephew, after tiptoeing into the house for her ink
+bottle and filling his pockets with contraband matches, met his chum
+at the cabin. There, under the critical survey of Bennie Dick from his
+customary place on the floor, they darkened their faces, heads,
+hands, feet, and legs; then, pulling their caps over their eyes, these
+energetic little boys stole out of the back gate and fairly flew down an
+alley to the station. No one noticed them in that hot, perspiring, black
+crowd. A lively band was playing and the mob of good-humored, happy
+negroes, dressed in their Sunday best, laughing and joking, pushing and
+elbowing, made their way to the excursion train standing on the track.
+
+The two excited children got directly behind a broad, pompous negro and
+slipped on the car just after him. Fortunately they found a seat in the
+rear of the coach and there they sat unobserved, still and quiet, except
+for an occasional delighted giggle, till the bell clanged and the train
+started off. "We'll see Sam Lamb toreckly," whispered Jimmy, "and he'll
+take care of us."
+
+The train was made up of seven coaches, which had been taking on negroes
+at every station up the road as far as Paducah, and it happened that the
+two little boys did not know a soul in their car.
+
+But when they were nearing Woodstock, a little station not far from
+Memphis, Sam Lamb, making a tour of the cars, came into their coach and
+was promptly hailed by the children. When he recognized them, he burst
+into such a roar of laughter that it caused all the other passengers to
+turn around and look in their direction.
+
+"What y' all gwine to do nex' I jes' wonder," he exclaimed. "Yo' ekals
+ain't made dis side o' 'ternity. Lordee, Lordee," he gazed at
+them admiringly, "you sho' is genoowine corn-fed, sterlin' silver,
+all-woolan'-a-yard-wide, pure-leaf, Green-River Lollapaloosas. Does yo'
+folks know 'bout yer? Lordee! What I axin' sech a fool question fer?
+'Course dey don't. Come on, I gwine to take y' all off 'n dese cars
+right here at dis Woodstock, an' we kin ketch de 'commodation back
+home."
+
+"But Sam," protested Billy, "We don't want to go back home. We wants to
+go to Memphis."
+
+"Hit don't matter what y' all wants," was the negro's reply, "y' all
+gotta git right off. Dis-here 'scursion train don't leave Memphis twell
+twelve o'clock tonight an' yuh see how slow she am runnin', and ev'y
+no 'count nigger on her'll be full o' red eye. An' yo' folks is plumb
+'stracted 'bout yer dis minute, I 'low. Come on. She am gittin' ready to
+stop."
+
+He grabbed the blackened hand of each, pushing Jimmy and pulling Billy,
+and towed the reluctant little boys through the coach.
+
+"Yuh sho' is sp'iled my fun," he growled as he hustled them across the
+platform to the waitingroom. "Dis-here's de fus' 'scursion I been on
+widout Sukey a-taggin' long in five year an' I aimed fo' to roll 'em
+high; an' now, 'case o' ketchin' up wid y' all, I gotta go right back
+home. Now y' all set jes' as straight as yer kin set on dis here bench,"
+he admonished, "whilst I send a telegraph to Marse Jeems Garner. An'
+don' yuh try to 'lope out on de flatform neider. Set whar I kin keep my
+eye skinned on yuh, yuh little slipp'ry-ellum eels. Den I gwine to come
+back an' wash yer, so y' all look like 'spectable white folks."
+
+Miss Minerva came out of her front door looking for Billy at the same
+time that Mrs. Garner appeared on her porch in search of Jimmy.
+
+"William! You William!" called one woman.
+
+"Jimmee-ee! O Jimmee-ee-ee!" called the other.
+
+"Have you seen my nephew?" asked the one.
+
+"No. Have you seen anything of Jimmy?" was the reply of the other.
+
+"They were talking together at the fence about an hour ago," said
+Billy's aunt. "Possibly they are down at the livery stable with Sam
+Lamb; I'll phone and find out."
+
+"And I'll ring up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Hamilton. They may have gone to
+see Lina or Frances."
+
+In a short time both women appeared on their porches again:
+
+"They have not been to the stable this morning," said Miss Minerva
+uneasily, "and Sam went to Memphis on the excursion train."
+
+"And they are not with Lina or Frances,"--Mrs. Garner's face wore an
+anxious look, "I declare I never saw two such children. Still, I don't
+think we need worry as it is nearly dinner time, and they never miss
+their meals, you know."
+
+But the noon hour came and with it no hungry little boys. Then, indeed,
+did the relatives of the children grow uneasy. The two telephones were
+kept busy, and Mr. Garner, with several other men on horseback, scoured
+the village. Not a soul had seen either child.
+
+At three o'clock Miss Minerva, worn with anxiety and on the verge of a
+collapse, dropped into a chair on her veranda, her faithful Major by her
+side. He had come to offer help and sympathy as soon as he heard of her
+distress, and, finding her in such a softened, dependent, and receptive
+mood, the Major had remained to try to cheer her up.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Garner were also on the porch, discussing what further
+steps they could take.
+
+"It is all the fault of that William of yours," snapped one little boy's
+mother to the other little boy's aunt: "Jimmy is the best child in the
+world when he is by himself, but he is easily led into mischief."
+
+Miss Minerva's face blazed with indignation.
+
+"William's fault indeed!" she answered back. "There never was a sweeter
+child than William;" for the lonely woman knew the truth at last. At
+the thought that her little nephew might be hurt, a long forgotten
+tenderness stirred her bosom and she realized for the first time how the
+child had grown into her life.
+
+The telegram came.
+
+"They are all right," shouted Mr. Garner joyously, as he quickly opened
+and read the yellow missive, "they went on the excursion and Sam Lamb is
+bringing them home on the accommodation."
+
+
+As the Major, short, plump, rubicund, jolly, and Miss Minerva, tall,
+sallow, angular, solemn, were walking to the station to meet the train
+that was bringing home the runaways, the elderly lover knew himself to
+be at last master of the situation.
+
+"The trouble with Billy--" he began, adjusting his steps to Miss
+Minerva's mincing walk.
+
+"William," she corrected, faintly.
+
+"The trouble with Billy," repeated her suitor firmly, "is this: you have
+tried to make a girl out of a healthy, high-spirited boy; you haven't
+given him the toys and playthings a boy should have; you have not even
+given the child common love and affection." He was letting himself go,
+for he knew that she needed the lecture, and, wonderful to tell, she was
+listening meekly. "You have steeled your heart," he went on, "against
+Billy and against me. You have about as much idea how to manage a boy
+as a--as a--" he hesitated for a suitable comparison: he wanted to say
+"goat," but gallantry forbade; "as any other old maid," he blurted out,
+realizing as he did so that a woman had rather be called a goat than an
+old maid any time.
+
+The color mounted to Miss Minerva's face.
+
+"I don't have to be an old maid," she snapped spunkily.
+
+"No; and you are not going to be one any longer," he answered with
+decision. "I tell you what, Miss Minerva, we are going to make a fine,
+manly boy out of that nephew of yours."
+
+"We?" she echoed faintly.
+
+"Yes, we! I said we, didn't I?" replied the Major ostentatiously. "The
+child shall have a pony to ride and every thing else that a boy ought to
+have. He is full of natural animal spirits and has to find some outlet
+for them; that is the reason he is always in mischief. Now, I think I
+understand children." He drew himself up proudly. "We shall be married
+to-morrow," he announced, "that I may assume at once my part of the
+responsibility of Billy's rearing."
+
+Miss Minerva looked at him in fluttering consternation.
+
+"Oh, no, not to-morrow," she protested; "possibly next year some time."
+
+"To-morrow," reiterated the Major, his white moustache bristling with
+determination. Having at last asserted himself, he was enjoying the
+situation immensely and was not going to give way one inch.
+
+"We will be married to-morrow and--"
+
+"Next month," she suggested timidly.
+
+"To-morrow, I tell you!"
+
+"Next week," she answered.
+
+"To-morrow! To-morrow! To-morrow!" cried the Major, happy as a
+schoolboy.
+
+"Next Sunday night after church," pleaded Miss Minerva.
+
+"No, not next Sunday or Monday or Tuesday. We will be married
+to-morrow," declared the dictatorial Confederate veteran.
+
+Billy's aunt succumbed.
+
+"Oh, Joseph," she said with almost a simper, "you are so masterful."
+
+"How would you like me for an uncle?" Miss Minerva's affianced asked
+Billy a few minutes later.
+
+"Fine an' dandy," was the answer, as the child wriggled himself out of
+his aunt's embrace. The enthusiastic reception accorded him, when he got
+off the train, was almost too much for the little boy. He gazed at the
+pair in embarrassment. He was for the moment disconcerted and overcome;
+in place of the expected scoldings and punishment, he was received with
+caresses and flattering consideration. He could not understand it at
+all.
+
+The Major put a hand on the little boy's shoulder and smiled a kindly
+smile into his big, grey, astonished eyes as the happy lover delightedly
+whispered, "Your aunt Minerva is going to marry me to-morrow, Billy."
+
+"Pants an' all?" asked William Green Hill.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill, by 
+Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill
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+
+
+Title: Miss Minerva and William Green Hill
+
+Author: Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
+Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5187]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 31, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISS MINERVA AND WILLIAM GREEN HILL
+
+BY FRANCES BOYD CALHOUN
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        MISS MINERVA and
+                       WILLIAM GREEN HILL
+
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER I
+
+                    A SCANDALIZED VIRGIN
+
+
+The bus drove up to the gate and stopped under the electric
+street-light.  Perched on the box by the big, black negro driver
+sat a little boy whose slender figure was swathed in a huge rain
+coat.
+
+Miss Minerva was on the porch waiting to receive him.
+
+"Mercy on me, child," she said, "what on earth made you ride up
+there?  Why didn't you get inside?"
+
+"I jest wanted to ride by Sam Lamb," replied the child as he was
+lifted down.  "An' I see a nice fat little man name' Major--"
+
+"He jes' wouldn' ride inside, Miss Minerva," interrupted the
+driver, quickly, to pass over the blush that rose to the
+spinster's thin cheek at mention of the Major.  "Twan't no use
+fer ter try ter make him ride nowhars but jes' up by me.  He jes'
+'fused an' 'fused an' 'sputed an' 'sputed; he jes' tuck ter me
+f'om de minute he got off 'm de train an' sot eyes on me; he am
+one easy chile ter git 'quainted wid; so, I jes' h'isted him up
+by me.  Here am his verlise, ma'am."
+
+"Good-bye, Sam Lamb," said the child as the negro got back on the
+box and gathered up the reins.  "I'll see you to-morrer."
+
+Miss Minerva imprinted a thin, old-maid kiss on the sweet,
+childish mouth.  "I am your Aunt Minerva," she said, as she
+picked up his satchel.
+
+The little boy carelessly drew the back of his hand across his
+mouth.
+
+"What are you doing?" she asked.  "Are you wiping my kiss off?"
+
+"Naw 'm," he replied, "I's jest a--I's a-rubbin' it in, I
+reckon."
+
+"Come in, William," and his aunt led the way through the wide
+hall into w big bedroom.
+
+"Billy, ma'am," corrected her nephew.
+
+"William," firmly repeated Miss Minerva.  "You may have been
+called Billy on that plantation where you were allowed to run
+wild with the negroes, but your name is William Green Hill and
+I shall insist upon your being called by it."
+
+She stooped to help him off with his coat, remarking as she did
+so, "What a big overcoat; it is several sizes too large for you."
+
+"Darned if 'tain't," agreed the child promptly.
+
+"Who taught you such a naughty word?" she asked in a horrified
+voice.  "Don't you know it is wrong to curse?"
+
+"You call that cussin'?" came in scornful tones from the little
+boy.  "You don't know cussin' when you see it; you jest oughter
+hear ole Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, Aunt Cindy's husban'; he'll
+show you somer the pretties' cussin' you ever did hear."
+
+"Who is Aunt Cindy?"
+
+"She's the colored 'oman what 'tends to me ever sence me an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born, an' Uncle Jup'ter is her husban'
+an' he sho' is a stingeree on cussin'.  Is yo' husban' much of
+a cusser?" he inquired.
+
+A pale pink dyed Miss Minerva's thin, sallow face.
+
+"I am not a married woman," she replied, curtly, "and I most
+assuredly would not permit any oaths to be used on my premises."
+
+"Well, Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter is jest nach'elly boon' to
+cuss,--he's got a repertation to keep up," said Billy.
+
+He sat down in a chair in front of his aunt, crossed his legs
+and smiled confidentially up into her face.
+
+"Hell an' damn is jest easy ev'y day words to that nigger.  I
+wish you could hear him cuss on a Sunday jest one time, Aunt
+Minerva; he'd sho' make you open yo' eyes an' take in yo' sign.
+But Aunt Cindy don't 'low me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln to say
+nothin' 't all only jest `darn' tell we gits grown mens, an'
+puts on long pants."
+
+"Wilkes Booth Lincoln?" questioned his aunt.
+
+"Ain't you never hear teller him?" asked the child.  "He's ole
+Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's boy; an' Peruny
+Pearline," he continued enthusiastically, "she ain't no ord'nary
+nigger, her hair ain't got nare kink an' she's got the grandes'
+clo'es.  They ain't nothin' snide 'bout her.  She got ten
+chillens an' ev'y single one of 'em's got a diff'unt pappy,
+she been married so much.  They do say she got Injun blood
+in her, too."
+
+Miss Minerva, who had been standing prim, erect, and stiff, fell
+limply into a convenient rocking chair, and looked closely at
+this orphaned nephew who had come to live with her.
+
+She saw a beautiful, bright, attractive, little face out of which
+big, saucy, grey eyes shaded by long curling black lashes looked
+winningly at her; she saw a sweet, childish, red mouth, a mass of
+short, yellow curls, and a thin but graceful little figure.
+
+"I knows the names of aller ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny
+Pearline's chillens," he was saying proudly: "Admiral Farragut
+Moses the Prophet Esquire, he's the bigges'; an' Alice Ann Maria
+Dan Step-an'-Go-Fetch-It, she had to nuss all the res.'; she say
+fas' as she git th'oo nussin' one an' 'low she goin' to have a
+breathin' spell here come another one an' she got to nuss it.
+An' the nex' is Mount Sinai Tabernicle, he name fer the church
+where of Aunt BlueGum Tempy's Peruny Pearline takes her
+sackerment; an' the nex' is First Thessalonians; Second
+Thessalonians, he's dead an' gone to the Bad Place 'cause he skunt
+a cat,--I don't mean skin the cat on a actin' role like me an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln does,--he skunt a sho' 'nough cat what was a
+black cat, what was a ole witch, an' she come back an' ha'nt him
+an' he growed thinner an' thinner an' weasler an' weasler, tell
+finely he wan't nothin' 't all but a skel'ton, an' the Bad Man
+won't 'low nobody 't all to give his parch' tongue no water, an'
+he got to, ever after amen, be toast on a pitchfork. An' Oleander
+Magnolia Althea is the nex'," he continued, enumerating Peruny
+Pearline's offspring on his thin, well molded fingers, "she got
+the seven year itch; an' Gettysburg, an' Biddle-&-Brothers-Mercantile-Co.;
+he name fer the sto' where ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline
+gits credit so she can pay when she fetches in her cotton in the
+fall; an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln, him an' me's twins, we was borned
+the same day only I's borned to my mama an' he's borned to his 'n
+an' Doctor Jenkins fetched me an' Doctor Shacklefoot fetched him.
+An' Decimus Ultimus,"--the little boy triumphantly put his right
+forefinger on his left little one, thus making the tenth, "she's
+the baby an' she's got the colic an' cries loud 'nough to wake
+up Israel; Wilkes Booth Lincoln say he wish the little devil
+would die.  Peruny Pearline firs' name her `Doctor Shacklefoot'
+'cause he fetches all her chillens, but the doctor he say that
+ain't no name fer a girl, so he name her Decimus Ultimus."
+
+Miss Minerva, sober, proper, dignified, religious old maid unused
+to children, listened in frozen amazement and paralyzed silence.
+She decided to put the child to bed at once that she might
+collect her thoughts, and lay some plans for the rearing of this
+sadly neglected, little orphaned nephew.
+
+"William," she said, "it is bedtime, and I know you must be
+sleepy after your long ride on the cars.  Would you like
+something to eat before I put you to bed?  I saved you some supper."
+
+"Naw 'm, I ain't hongry; the Major man what I talk to on the
+train tuck me in the dinin'-room an' gimme all I could hol'; I
+jest eat an' eat tell they wan't a wrinkle in me," was the reply.
+"He axed me 'bout you, too.  Is he name' Major Minerva?"
+
+She opened a door in considerable confusion, and they entered a
+small, neat room adjoining.
+
+"This is your own little room, William," said she, "you see it
+opens into mine.  Have you a nightshirt?"
+
+"Naw 'm, I don' need no night-shirt.  I jest sleeps in my unions
+and sometimes in my overalls."
+
+"Well, you may sleep in your union suit to-night," said his
+scandalized relative, "and I'll see what I can do for you
+to-morrow.  Can you undress yourself?"
+
+Her small nephew wrinkled his nose, disdainfully.  "Well, I
+reckon so," he scornfully made answer.  "Me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln been undressin' usself ever sence we's born."
+
+"I'll come in here after a while and turn off the light.
+Good-night, William."
+
+"Good-night, Aunt Minerva," responded the little boy.
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER II
+
+                THE RABBIT'S LEFT HIND FOOT
+
+
+A few minutes later, as Miss Minerva sat rocking and thinking,
+the door opened and a lean, graceful, little figure, clad in a
+skinny, grey union suit, came into the room.
+
+"Ain't I a-goin' to say no prayers?" demanded a sweet, childish
+voice.  "Aunt Cindy hear me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln say us
+prayers ev'y night sence we's born."
+
+"Why, of course you must say your prayers," said his aunt,
+blushing at having to be reminded of her duty by this young
+heathen; "kneel down here by me."
+
+Billy looked at his aunt's bony frame and thought of Aunt Cindy's
+soft, fat, ample lap.  A wistful look crossed his childish face
+as
+he dropped down in front of her and laid his head against her
+knee, then the bright, beautiful little face took on an angelic
+expression as he closed his eyes and softly chanted: "`Now I lays
+me down to sleep, I prays the Lord my soul to keep, If I should
+die befo' I wake, I prays the Lord my soul to take.
+
+"`Keep way f'om me hoodoo an' witch, Lead my paf f'om the
+po'-house gate, I pines fey the golden harps an' sich, Oh, Lord,
+I'll set an' pray an' wait.' "Oh, Lord, bless ev'ybody; bless me
+an' Aunt Cindy, an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln, an' Aunt Blue-Gum
+Tempy's Peruny Pearline, an' Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, an'
+ev'ybody, an' Sam Lamb, an' Aunt Minerva, an' alley Aunt
+Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's chillens, an' give Aunt
+Minerva a billy goat or a little nanny if she'd ruther, an'
+bless Major Minerva, an' make me a good boy like Sanctified
+Sophy, fey Jesus' sake.  Amen."
+
+"What is that you have tied around your neck, William?" she
+asked, as the little boy rose to his feet.
+
+"That's my rabbit foot; you won't never have no 'sease 't all an'
+nobody can't never conjure you if you wears a rabbit foot.  This
+here one is the lef' hin' foot; it was ketched by a red-headed
+nigger with crosseyes in a graveyard at twelve er'clock on a
+Friday night, when they's a full moon.  He give it to Aunt Cindy
+to tie 'roun' my nake when I's a baby.  Ain't you got no abbit
+foot?" he anxiously inquired.
+
+"No," she answered.  "I have never had one and I have never been
+conjured either.  Give it to me, William; I can not allow you to
+be so superstitious," and she held out her hand.
+
+"Please, Aunt Minerva, jest lemme wear it to-night," he pleaded.
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's been wearin' us rabbit foots ever
+sence we's born."
+
+"No," she said firmly; "I'll put a stop to such nonsense at
+once.  Give it to me, William."
+
+Billy looked at his aunt's austere countenance and lovingly
+fingered his charm; he opened his mouth to say something, but
+hesitated; slowly he untied the string around his neck and laid
+his treasure on her lap; then without looking up, he ran into his
+own little room, closing the door behind him.
+
+Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob
+coming from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked
+into a sad, little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with
+tears.
+
+"What is the matter, William?" she coldly asked.
+
+"I ain't never slep' by myself," he sobbed.  "Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln always sleep on a pallet by my bed ever sence we's born
+an'--'I wants Aunt Cindy to tell me 'bout Uncle Piljerk Peter."
+
+His aunt sat down on the bed by his side.  She was not versed in
+the ways of childhood and could not know that the little boy
+wanted to pillow his head on Aunt Cindy's soft and ample bosom,
+that he was homesick for his black friends, the only companions
+he had ever known.
+
+"I'll you a Bible story," she temporized.  "You must not be a
+baby.  You are not afraid, are you, William? God is always with
+you."
+
+"I don' want no God," he sullenly made reply, "I wants somebody
+with sho' 'nough skin an' bones, an'--n' I wants to hear 'bout
+Uncle Piljerk Peter."
+
+"I will tell you a Bible story," again suggested his aunt, "I
+will tell you about--"
+
+"I don' want to hear no Bible story, neither," he objected, "I
+wants to hear Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter play his 'corjun an'
+sing:
+
+  "'Rabbit up the gum tree, Coon is in the holler
+  Wake, snake; Juney-Bug stole a half a dollar."'
+
+"I'll sing you a hymn," said Miss Minerva patiently.
+
+"I don' want to hear you sing no hymn," said Billy impolitely.
+"I wants to see Sanctified Sophy shout."
+
+As his aunt could think of no substitute with which to tempt
+him in lieu of Sanctified Sophy's shouting, she remained silent.
+
+"An' I wants Wilkes Booth Lincoln to dance a clog," persisted
+her nephew.
+
+Miss Minerva still remained silent.  She felt unable to cope
+with the situation till she had adjusted her thoughts and made
+her plans.
+
+Presently Billy, looking at her shrewdly, said:
+
+"Gimme my rabbit foot, Aunt Minerva, an' I'll go right off to
+sleep."
+
+When she again looked in on him he was fast asleep, a rosy
+flush on his babyish, tearstained cheek, his red lips half
+parted, his curly head pillowed on his arm, and close against his
+soft, young throat there nestled the left hind foot of a rabbit.
+
+Miss Minerva's bed time was half after nine o'clock, summer or
+winter.  She had hardly varied a second in the years that had
+elapsed since the runaway marriage of her only relative, the
+young sister whose child had now come to live with her.  But on
+the night of Billy's arrival the stern, narrow woman sat for
+hours in her rocking chair, her mind busy with thoughts of that
+pretty young sister, dead since the boy's birth.
+
+And now the wild, reckless, dissipated brother-in-law was dead,
+too, and the child had been sent to her; to the aunt who did not
+want him, who did not care for children, who had never forgiven
+her sister her unfortunate marriage.  "If he had only been a
+girl," she sighed.  What she believed to be a happy thought
+entered her brain.
+
+"I shall rear him," she promised herself, "just as if he were a
+little girl; then he will be both a pleasure and a comfort to me,
+and a companion for my loneliness."
+
+Miss Minerva was strictly methodical; she worked ever by the
+clock, so many hours for this, so many minutes for that.
+William, she now resolved, for the first time becoming really
+interested in him, should grow up to be a model young man,
+a splendid and wonderful piece of mechanism, a fine, practical,
+machine-like individual, moral, upright, religious.  She was glad
+that he was young; she would begin his training on the morrow.
+She would teach him to sew, to sweep, to churn, to cook, and when
+he was older he should be educated for the ministry.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Minerva; "I shall be very strict with him just
+at first, and punish him for the slightest disobedience or
+misdemeanor, and he will soon learn that my authority is not to
+be questioned."
+
+And the little boy who had never had a restraining hand laid upon
+him in his short life?  He slept sweetly and innocently in the
+next room dreaming of the care-free existence on the plantation
+and of his idle, happy, negro companions.
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER III
+
+                     THE WILLING WORKER
+
+"Get up, William," said Miss Minerva, "and come with me to the
+bath-room; I have fixed your bath."
+
+The child's sleepy eyes popped wide open at this astounding
+command.
+
+"Ain't this-here Wednesday?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Yes; to-day is Wednesday.  Hurry up or your water will get
+cold."
+
+"Well, me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln jest washed las' Sat'day.  We
+ain't got to wash no mo' till nex' Sat'day," he argued.
+
+"Oh, yes," said his relative; "you must bathe every day."
+
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never wash on a Wednesday
+sence we's born," he protested indignantly.
+
+Billy's idea of a bath was taken from the severe weekly scrubbing
+which Aunt Cindy gave him with a hard washrag, and he felt that
+he'd rather die at once than have to bathe every day.
+
+He followed his aunt dolefully to the bath-room at the end of the
+long back-porch of the old-fashioned, one-story house; but once
+in the big white tub he was delighted.
+
+In fact he stayed in it so long Miss Minerva had to knock on the
+door and tell him to hurry up and get ready for breakfast.
+
+"Say," he yelled out to her, "I likes this here; it's mos' as
+fine as Johnny's Wash Hole where me and' Wilkes Booth Lincoln
+goes in swimmin' ever sence we's born."
+
+When he came into the dining-room he was a sight to gladden even
+a prim old maid's heart.  The water had curled his hair into
+riotous yellow ringlets, his bright eyes gleamed, his beautiful,
+expressive little face shone happily, and every movement of his
+agile, lithe figure was grace itself.
+
+"I sho' is hongry," he remarked, as he took his seat at the
+breakfast table.
+
+Miss Minerva realized that now was the time to begin her small
+nephew's training; if she was ever to teach him to speak
+correctly she must begin at once.
+
+"William," she said sternly, "you must not talk so much like a
+negro.  Instead of saying `I sho' is hongry,' you should say,
+`I am very hungry.'  Listen to me and try to speak more
+correctly."
+
+"Don't! don't!" she screamed as he helped himself to the meat
+and gravy, leaving a little brown river on her fresh white
+tablecloth.  "Wait until I ask a blessing; then I will help you
+to what you want."
+
+Billy enjoyed his breakfast very much.  "These muffins sho' is--"
+he began; catching his aunt's eye he corrected himself--"
+
+"These muffins am very good."
+
+"These muffins are very good," said Miss Minerva patiently.
+
+"Did you ever eat any bobbycued rabbit?" he asked.  "Me an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln been eatin' chit'lins, an' sweet 'taters, an'
+'possum, an' squirrel, an' hoecake, an' Brunswick stew ever sence
+we's born," was his proud announcement.
+
+"Use your napkin," commanded she, "and don't fill your mouth so
+full."
+
+The little boy flooded his plate with syrup.
+
+"These-here 'lasses sho' is--" he began, but instantly
+remembering that he must be more particular in his speech,
+he stammered out:
+
+"These-here sho' is--am--are a nice messer 'lasses.  I ain't
+never eat sech a good bait.  They sho' is--I aimed to say--these
+'lasses sho' are a bird; they's 'nother sight tastier 'n
+sorghum, an' Aunt Cindy 'lows that sorghum is the very penurity
+of a nigger."
+
+She did not again correct him.
+
+"I must be very patient," she thought, "and go very slowly.  I
+must not expect too much of him at first."
+
+After breakfast Miss Minerva, who would not keep a servant,
+preferring to do her own work, tied a big cook-apron around the
+little boy's neck, and told him to churn while she washed the
+dishes.  This arrangement did not suit Billy.
+
+"Boys don't churn," he said sullenly, "me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln don' never have to churn sence we's born; 'omans has to
+churn an' I ain't agoing to.  Major Minerva--he ain't never
+churn," he began belligerently but his relative turned an
+uncompromising and rather perturbed back upon him.  Realizing
+that he was beaten, he submitted to his fate, clutched the dasher
+angrily, and began his weary work.
+
+He was glad his little black friend did not witness his disgrace.
+
+As he thought of Wilkes Booth Lincoln the big tears came into his
+eyes and rolled down his cheeks; he leaned way over the churn and
+the great glistening tears splashed right into the hole made for
+the dasher, and rolled into the milk.
+
+Billy grew interested at once and laughed aloud; he puckered up
+his face and tried to weep again, for he wanted more tears to
+fall into the churn; but the tears refused to come and he
+couldn't squeeze another one out of his eyes.
+
+"Aunt Minerva," he said mischievously, "I done ruint yo'
+buttermilk."
+
+"What have you done?" she inquired.
+
+"It's done ruint," he replied, "you'll hafter th'ow it away; 't
+ain't fitten fer nothin.' I done cried 'bout a bucketful in it."
+
+"Why did you cry?" asked Miss Minerva calmly.  "Don't you like to
+work?"
+
+"Yes 'm, I jes' loves to work; I wish I had time to work all the
+time.  But it makes my belly ache to churn,--I got a awful pain
+right now."
+
+"Churn on!" she commanded unsympathetically.
+
+He grabbed the dasher and churned vigorously for one minute.
+
+"I reckon the butter's done come," he announced, resting from
+his labors.
+
+"It hasn't begun to come yet," replied the exasperated woman.
+"Don't waste so much time, William."
+
+The child churned in silence for the space of two minutes, and
+suggested: "It's time to put hot water in it; Aunt Cindy always
+puts hot water in it.  Lemme git some fer you."
+
+"I never put hot water in my milk," said she, "it makes the
+butter puffy.  Work more and talk less, William."
+
+Again there was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the
+dasher thumping against the bottom of the churn, and the rattle
+of the dishes.
+
+"I sho' is tired," he presently remarked, heaving a deep sigh.
+"My arms is 'bout give out, Aunt Minerva.  Ole Aunt Blue-Gum
+Tempy's Peruny Pearline see a man churn with his toes; lemme git
+a chair an' see if I can't churn with my toes."
+
+"Indeed you shall not," responded his annoyed relative
+positively.
+
+"Sanctified Sophy knowed a colored 'oman what had a little dog
+went roun' an' roun' an' churn fer her," remarked Billy after a
+short pause.  "If you had a billy goat or a little nanny I could
+hitch him to the churn fer you ev'ry day."
+
+"William," commanded his aunt, "don't say another word until you
+have finished your work."
+
+"Can't I sing?" he asked.
+
+She nodded permission as she went through the open door into the
+dining-room.
+
+Returning a few minutes later she found him sitting astride the
+churn, using the dasher so vigorously that buttermilk was
+splashing in every direction, and singing in a clear, sweet voice:
+
+   "He'll feed you when you's naked,
+    The orphan stear he'll dry,
+    He'll clothe you when you's hongry
+    An' take you when you die."
+
+Miss Minerva jerked him off with no gentle hand.
+
+"What I done now?" asked the boy innocently.  "'tain't no harm as
+I can see jes' to straddle a churn."
+
+"Go out in the front yard," commanded his aunt, "and sit in the
+swing till I call you.  I'll finish the work without your
+assistance.  And, William," she called after him, "there is a
+very bad little boy who lives next door; I want you to have as
+little to do with him as possible."
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER IV
+
+                   SWEETHEART AND PARTNER
+
+
+Billy was sitting quietly in the big lawn-swing when his aunt,
+dressed for the street, finally came through the front door.
+
+"I am going up-town, William," she said, "I want to buy you some
+things that you may go with me to church Sunday.  Have you ever
+been to Sunday-School?"
+
+"Naw 'm; but I been to pertracted meetin'," came the ready
+response, "I see Sanctified Sophy shout tell she tore ev'y rag
+offer her back 'ceptin' a shimmy.  She's one 'oman what sho' is
+got 'ligion; she ain't never backslid 't all, an' she ain't never
+fell f'om grace but one time--"
+
+"Stay right in the yard till I come back.  Sit in the swing and
+don't go outside the front yard.  I shan't be gone long," said
+Miss Minerva.
+
+His aunt had hardly left the gate before Billy caught sight of a
+round, fat little face peering at him through the palings which
+separated Miss Minerva's yard from that of her next-door
+neighbor.
+
+"Hello!" shouted Billy.  "Is you the bad little boy what can't
+play with me?"
+
+"What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?" came the answering
+interrogation across the fence.
+
+"I's come to live with her," replied Billy.  "My mama an' papa is
+dead.  What's yo' name?"
+
+"I'm Jimmy Garner.  How old are you? I'm most six, I am."
+
+"Shucks, I's already six, a-going on seven.  Come on, le's
+swing."
+
+"Can't," said the new acquaintance, "I've runned off once to-day,
+and got licked for it."
+
+"I ain't never got no whippin' sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln
+'s born," boasted Billy.
+
+"Ain't you?" asked Jimmy.  "I 'spec' I been whipped more 'n a
+million times, my mama is so pertic'lar with me.  She's 'bout the
+pertic'larest woman ever was; she don't 'low me to leave the yard
+'thout I get a whipping.  I believe I will come over to see you
+'bout half a minute."
+
+Suiting the action to the word Jimmy climbed the fence, and the
+two little boys were soon comfortably settled facing each other
+in the big lawn-swing.
+
+"Who lives over there?" asked Billy, pointing to the house across
+the street.
+
+"That's Miss Cecilia's house.  That's her coming out of the front
+gate now."
+
+The young lady smiled and waved her hand at them.
+
+"Ain't she a peach?" asked Jimmy.  "She's my sweetheart and she
+is 'bout the swellest sweetheart they is."
+
+"She's mine, too," promptly replied Billy, who had fallen in love
+at first sight.  "I's a-goin' to have her fer my sweetheart too."
+
+"Naw, she ain't yours, neither; she's mine," angrily declared
+the other little boy, kicking his rival's legs.  "You all time
+talking 'bout you going to have Miss Cecilia for your sweetheart.
+She's done already promised me."
+
+"I'll tell you what," proposed Billy, "lemme have her an' you
+can have Aunt Minerva."
+
+"I wouldn't have Miss Minerva to save your life," replied Jimmy
+disrespectfully, "her nake ain't no bigger 'n that," making a
+circle of his thumb and forefinger.  "Miss Cecilia, Miss
+Cecilia," he shrieked tantalizingly, "is my sweetheart."
+
+"I'll betcher I have her fer a sweetheart soon as ever I see
+her," said Billy.
+
+"What's your name?" asked Jimmy presently.
+
+"Aunt Minerva says it's William Green Hill, but 'tain't, it's
+jest plain Billy," responded the little boy.
+
+"Ain't God a nice, good old man," remarked Billy, after they had
+swung in silence for a while, with an evident desire to make
+talk.
+
+"That He is," replied Jimmy, enthusiastically.  "He's 'bout the
+forgivingest person ever was.  I just couldn't get 'long at all
+'thout Him.  It don't make no differ'nce what you do or how many
+times you run off, all you got to do is just ask God to forgive
+you and tell him you're sorry and ain't going to do so no more,
+that night when you say your prayers, and it's all right with
+God.  S'posing He was one of these wants-his-own-way kind o'
+mans, He could make Hi'self the troublesomest person ever was,
+and little boys couldn't do nothing a tall.  I sure think a heap
+of God.  He ain't never give me the worst of it yet."
+
+"I wonder what He looks like," mused Billy.
+
+"I s'pec' He just looks like the three-headed giant in Jack the
+Giant-Killer," explained Jimmy, "'cause He's got three heads and
+one body.  His heads are name' Papa, Son, and Holy Ghost, and His
+body is just name' plain God.  Miss Cecilia 'splained it all to
+me and she is 'bout the splendidest 'splainer they is.  She's my
+Sunday-School teacher."
+
+"She's goin' to be my Sunday-School teacher, too," said Billy
+serenely.
+
+"Yours nothing; you all time want my Sunday-School teacher."
+
+"Jimmee!" called a voice from the interior of the house in the
+next yard.
+
+"Somebody's a-callin' you," said Billy.
+
+"That ain't nobody but mama," explained Jimmy composedly.
+
+"Jimmee-ee!" called the voice.
+
+"Don't make no noise," warned that little boy, "maybe she'll give
+up toreckly."
+
+"You Jimmee!" his mother called again.
+
+Jimmy made no move to leave the swing.
+
+"I don' never have to go 'less she says `James Lafayette Garner,'
+then I got to hustle," he remarked.
+
+"Jimmy Garner!"
+
+"She's mighty near got me," he said softly; "but maybe she'll
+get tired and won't call no more.  She ain't plumb mad yet.
+
+"James Garner!"
+
+"It's coming now," said Jimmy dolefully.
+
+The two little boys sat very still and quiet.
+
+"James Lafayette Garner!"
+
+The younger child sprang to his feet.
+
+"I got to get a move on now," he said; "when she calls like that
+she means business.  I betcher she's got a switch and a
+hair-brush and a slipper in her hand right this minute.  I'll be
+back toreckly," he promised.
+
+He was as good as his word, and in a very short time he was
+sitting again facing Billy in the swing.
+
+"She just wanted to know where her embroid'ry scissors was," he
+explained.  "It don't matter what's lost in that house I'm
+always the one that's got to be 'sponsible and all time got to
+go look for it."
+
+"Did you find 'em?" asked Billy.
+
+"Yep; I went right straight where I left 'em yeste'day.  I had
+'em trying to cut a piece of wire.  I stole off and went down to
+Sam Lamb's house this morning and tooken breakfast with him and
+his old woman, Sukey," he boasted.
+
+"I knows Sam Lamb," said Billy, "I rode up on the bus with him."
+
+"He's my partner," remarked Jimmy.
+
+"He's mine, too," said Billy quickly.
+
+"No, he ain't neither; you all time talking 'bout you going to
+have Sam Lamb for a partner.  You want everything I got.  You
+want Miss Cecilia and you want Sam Lamb.  Well, you just ain't
+a-going to have 'em.  You got to get somebody else for your
+partner and sweetheart."
+
+"Well, you jest wait an' see," said Billy.  "I got Major
+Minerva."
+
+"Shucks, they ain't no Major name' that away," and Jimmy changed
+the subject.  "Sam Lamb's sow's got seven little pigs.  He lemme
+see 'em suck," said Sam Lamb's partner proudly.  "He's got a cow,
+too; she's got the worrisomest horns ever was.  I believe she's a
+steer anyway."
+
+"Shucks," said the country boy, contemptuously, "You do' know a
+steer when you see one; you can't milk no steer."
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER V
+
+                    TURNING ON THE HOSE
+
+
+"Look! Ain't that a snake?" shrieked Billy, pointing to what
+looked to him like a big snake coiled in the yard.
+
+"Snake, nothing!" sneered his companion, "that's a hose.  You all
+time got to call a hose a snake.  Come on, let's sprinkle," and
+Jimmy sprang out of the swing, jerked up the hose, and dragged it
+to the hydrant.  "My mama don't never 'low me to sprinkle with
+her hose, but Miss Minerva she's so good I don' reckon she'll care,"
+he cried mendaciously.
+
+Billy followed, watched his companion screw the hose to the
+faucet, and turn the water on.  There was a hissing, gurgling
+sound and a stream of water shot out, much to the rapture of the
+astonished Billy.
+
+"Won't Aunt Minerva care?" he asked, anxiously.  "Is she a real
+'ligious 'oman?"
+
+"She is the Christianest woman they is," announced the other
+child. "Come on, we'll sprinkle the street--and I don't want
+nobody to get in our way neither."
+
+"I wish Wilkes Booth Lincoln could see us," said Miss Minerva's
+nephew.
+
+A big, fat negress, with a bundle of clothes tied in a red table
+cloth on her head, came waddling down the sidewalk.
+
+Billy looked at Jimmy and giggled, Jimmy looked at Billy and
+giggled; then, the latter took careful aim and a stream of water
+hit the old woman squarely in the face.
+
+"Who dat?  What's yo' doin'?" she yelled, as she backed off.
+"'I's a-gwine to tell yo' pappy, Jimmy Garner," as she recognized
+one of the culprits.  "Pint dat ar ho'e 'way f'om me, 'fo' I
+make yo' ma spank yuh slabsided.  I got to git home an' wash.
+Drap it, I tell yuh!"
+
+Two little girls rolling two doll buggies in which reposed two
+enormous rag-babies were seen approaching.
+
+"That's Lina Hamilton and Frances Black," said Jimmy, "they're
+my chums."
+
+Billy took a good look at them.  "They's goin' to be my chums,
+too," he said calmly.
+
+"Your chums, nothing!" angrily cried Jimmy, swelling up
+pompously.  "You all time trying to claim my chums.  I can't have
+nothing a tall 'thout you got to stick your mouth in.  You 'bout
+the selfishest boy they is.  You want everything I got, all
+time."
+
+The little girls were now quite near and Jimmy hailed them
+gleefully, forgetful of his anger.
+
+"Come on, Lina, you and Frances," he shrieked, "and we can have
+the mostest fun.  Billy here's done come to live with Miss
+Minerva and she's done gone up town and don't care if we sprinkle,
+'cause she's got so much 'ligion."
+
+"But you know none of us are allowed to use a hose," objected
+Lina.
+
+"But it's so much fun," said Jimmy; "and Miss Minerva she's so
+Christian she ain't going to raise much of a rough-house, and if
+she do we can run when we see her coming."
+
+"I can't run," said Billy, "I ain't got nowhere to run to an'--"
+
+"If that ain't just like you, Billy," interrupted Jimmy, "all
+time talking 'bout you ain't got nowhere to run to; you don't
+want nobody to have no fun.  You 'bout the picayunest boy they
+is."
+
+Little Ikey Rosenstein, better known as "GooseGrease," dressed in
+a cast-off suit of his big brother's, with his father's hat set
+rakishly back on his head and over his ears, was coming proudly
+down the street some distance off.
+
+"Yonder comes Goose-Grease Rosenstein," said Jimmy gleefully.
+"When he gets right close le's make him hop."
+
+"All right," agreed Billy, his good humor restored, "le's
+baptize him good."
+
+"Oh, we can't baptize him," exclaimed the other little boy,
+"'cause he's a Jew and the Bible says not to baptize Jews.  You
+got to mesmerize 'em.  How come me to know so much?" he continued
+condescendingly, "Miss Cecilia teached me in the Sunday-School.
+Sometimes I know so much I I feel like I'm going to bust.  She
+teached me 'bout `Scuffle little chillens and forbid 'em not,'
+and 'bout 'Ananias telled Sapphira he done it with his little
+hatchet,' and 'bout "Lijah jumped over the moon in a automobile:
+I know everything what's in the Bible.  Miss Cecilia sure is a
+crackerjack; sties 'bout the stylishest Sunday-School teacher
+they is."
+
+"'T was the cow jumped over the moon," said Frances, "and it
+isn't in the Bible; it's in Mother Goose."
+
+"And Elijah went to Heaven in a chariot of fire," corrected Lina.
+
+"And I know all 'bout Gabr'el," continued Jimmy unabashed.  "When
+folks called him to blow his trumpet he was under the haystack
+fast asleep."
+
+Ikey was quite near by this time to command the attention of the
+four children.
+
+"Let's mesmerize Goose-Grease," yelled Jimmy, as he turned the
+stream of water full upon him.
+
+Frances, Lina, and Billy clapped their hands and laughed for joy.
+
+With a terrified and angry shriek their victim, dripping water at
+every step, ran howling by his tormentors.  When he reached a
+safe distance he turned around, shook a fist at them, and screamed
+back:
+
+"My papa is going to have you all arrested and locked up in the
+calaboose."
+
+"Calaboose, nothing!" jeered Jimmy.  "You all time wanting to put
+somebody in the calaboose 'cause they mesmerize you.  You got to
+be mesmerized 'cause it's in the Bible."
+
+A short, stout man, dressed in neat black clothes, was coming
+toward them.
+
+"Oh, that's the Major!" screamed Billy delightedly, taking the
+hose and squaring himself to greet his friend of the train, but
+Jimmy jerked it out of his hand, before either of them noticed
+him turning about, as if for something forgotten.
+
+"You ain't got the sense of a one-eyed tadpole, Billy," he said.
+"That's Miss Minerva's beau.  He's been loving her more 'n a
+million years.  My mama says he ain't never going to marry nobody
+a tall 'thout he can get Miss Minerva, and Miss Minerva she just
+turns up her nose at anything that wears pants.  You better not
+sprinkle him.  He's been to the war and got his big toe shot off.
+He kilt 'bout a million Injuns and Yankees and he's name' Major
+'cause he's a Confed'rit vetrun.  He went to the war when he
+ain't but fourteen."
+
+"Did he have on long pants?" asked Billy.  "I call him Major
+Minerva--"
+
+"Gladys Maude's got the pennyskeeters," broke in Frances
+importantly, fussing over her baby, "and I'm going to see Doctor
+Sanford.  Don't you think she looks pale, Jimmy?"
+
+"Pale, nothing!" sneered the little boy.  "Girls got to all time
+play their dolls are sick.  Naw; I don't know nothing a tall
+'bout your Gladys Maude."
+
+Lina gazed up the street.
+
+"That looks like Miss Minerva to me 'way up yonder," she
+remarked.  "I think we had better get away from here before she
+sees us."
+
+Two little girls rolling two doll buggies fairly flew down the
+street and one little boy quickly climbed to the top of the
+dividing fence.  From this safe vantage point he shouted to
+Billy, who was holding the nozzle of the hose out of which poured
+a stream of water.
+
+"You 'd better turn that water off 'cause Miss Minerva's going
+to be madder 'n a green persimmon."
+
+"I do' know how to," said Billy forlornly.  "You turnt it on."
+
+"Drop the hose and run to the hydrant and twist that little thing
+at the top," screamed Jimmy.  "You all time got to perpose
+someping to get little boys in trouble anyway," he added
+ungenerously.
+
+"You perposed this yo'self," declared an indignant Billy.  "You
+said Aunt Minerva's so 'ligious she wouldn't git mad."
+
+"Christian womans can get just as mad as any other kind,"
+declared the other boy, sliding from his perch on the fence and
+running across his lawn to disappear behind his own front door.
+
+Holding her skirts nearly up to her knees Miss Minerva stepped
+gingerly along the wet and muddy street till she got to her gate,
+where her nephew met her, looking a little guilty, but still
+holding his head up with that characteristic, manly air which was
+so attractive.
+
+"William," she said sternly, "I see you have been getting into
+mischief, and I feel it my duty to punish you, so that you may
+learn to be trustworthy.  I said nothing to you about the hose
+because I did not think you would know how to use it."
+
+Billy remained silent.  He did not want to betray his little
+companions of the morning, so he said nothing in his own defense.
+
+"Come with me into the house," continued his aunt, "you must go
+to bed at once."
+
+But the child protested vigorously.
+
+"Don' make me go to bed in the daytime, Aunt Minerva; me an'
+Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never went to bed in the daytime since
+we's born, an' I ain't never hear tell of a real 'ligious 'oman
+a-puttin' a little boy in bed 'fore it's dark; an' I ain't never
+a-goin' to meddle with yo' ole hose no mo'."
+
+But Miss Minerva was obdurate, and the little boy spent a
+miserable hour between the sheets.
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER VI
+
+                    SUCCESSFUL STRATEGY.
+
+
+I have a present for you," said his aunt, handing Billy a long,
+rectangular package.
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said her beaming nephew as he sat down on the
+floor, all eager anticipation, and began to untie the string.
+His charming, changeful face was bright and happy again, but his
+expression became one of indignant amaze as he saw the contents
+of the box.
+
+"What I want with a doll?" he asked angrily, "I ain't no girl."
+
+"I think every little boy should have a doll and learn to make
+clothes for it," said Miss Minerva.  "I don't want you to be a
+great, rough boy; I want you to be sweet and gentle like a little
+girl; I am going to teach you how to sew and cook and sweep, so
+you may grow up a comfort to me."
+
+This was a gloomy forecast for the little boy accustomed, as he
+had been, to the freedom of a big plantation, and he scowled darkly.
+
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hafter play with no
+dolls sence we's born," he replied sullenly, "we goes in
+swimmin' an' plays baseball.  I can knock a home-run an' pitch a
+curve an' ketch a fly.  Why don't you gimme a baseball bat?  I
+already got a ball what Admiral Farragut gimme.  An' I ain't
+agoin' to be no sissy neither.  Lina an' Frances plays dolls, me
+an' Jimmy--" he stopped in sudden confusion.
+
+"Lina and Frances and James!" exclaimed his aunt.  "What do you
+know about them, William?"
+
+The child's face flushed.  "I seen 'em this mornin'," he
+acknowledged.
+
+Miss Minerva put a hand on either shoulder der and looked
+straight into his eyes.
+
+"William, who started that sprinkling this morning?" she
+questioned, sharply.
+
+Billy flushed guiltily and lowered his eyelids; but only for an
+instant.  Quickly recovering his composure he returned her gaze
+steadily and ignored her question.
+
+"I see yo' beau too, Aunt Minerva," he remarked tranquilly.
+
+It was Miss Minerva this time who lost her composure, for her
+thin, sallow face became perfectly crimson.
+
+"My beau?" she asked confusedly.  "Who put that nonsense into
+your head?"
+
+"Jimmy show him to me," he replied jauntily, once more master of
+the situation and in full realization of the fact.  "Why don't
+you marry him, Aunt Minerva, so's he could live right here with us?
+An' I could learn him how to churn.  I s'pec' he 'd make a
+beautiful churner.  He sho' is a pretty little fat man," he
+continued flatteringly.  "An' dress?  That beau was jest dressed
+plumb up to the top notch.  I sho' would marry him if I's you an'
+not turn up my nose at him 'cause he wears pants, an' you can
+learn him how to talk properer'n what he do an' I betcher he'd
+jest nachelly take to a broom, an' I s'pec' he ain't got nobody
+'tall to show him how to sew.  An' y' all could get the doctor to
+fetch you a little baby so he wouldn't hafter play with no doll.
+I sho' wisht we had him here," ended a selfish Billy, "he could
+save me a lot of steps.  An' I sho' would like to hear 'bout all
+them Injuns an' Yankees what he's killed."
+
+Billy's aunt was visibly embarrassed.
+
+The persistent admiration of this, her one lover, had been
+pleasing to her, yet she had never been willing to sacrifice her
+independence for the cares and trials of matrimony.  The existing
+state of affairs between the two was known to every one in the
+small town, but such was Miss Minerva's dignified aloofness that
+Billy was the first person who had ever dared to broach the
+subject to her.
+
+"Sit down here, William," she commanded, "and I will read to
+you."
+
+"Tell me a tale," he said, looking up at her with his bright,
+sweet smile.  The doll lay neglected on a chair near by and Billy
+wanted her to forget it.
+
+"Tell me 'bout Piljerk Peter."
+
+"Piljerk Peter?" there was an interrogation in her voice.
+
+"Yas 'm.  Ain't you never hear tell 'bout Piljerk Peter?  He had
+fifteen chillens an' one time the las' one of 'em an' his ole
+'oman was down with the fever an' he ain't got but one pill an'
+they so sick they mos' 'bout to die an' ain't nobody in the fiel'
+fer to pick the cotton an' he can't git no doctor an' he ain't
+got but jest that one pill; so he tie that pill to a string an'
+let the bigges' chile swaller it an' draw it back up an' let the
+nex' chile swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex, Chile
+swaller it an' jerk it back up an' let the nex' Chile swaller it
+an' jerk it back up an' let the nex'--."
+
+"I don't believe in telling tales to children," interrupted his
+aunt, "I will tell you biographical and historical stories and
+stories from the Bible.  Now listen, while I read to you."
+
+"An' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it back up," continued
+Billy serenely, "an' the nex' Chile swaller it an' he jerk it
+back up tell finely ev'y single one of 'em, plumb down to the
+baby, swaller that pill an' the las' one of 'em got well an' that
+one pill it done the work.  Then he tuck the pill and give it to
+his ole 'oman an' she swaller it an' he jerk it back up but
+didn't nothin' 'tall come up but jest the string an' his ole
+'oman she died 'cause all the strenk done gone outer that pill."
+
+Miss Minerva opened a book called "Gems for the Household," which
+she had purchased from a silvertongued book-agent.  She selected
+an article the subject of which was "The Pure in Heart."
+
+Billy listened with a seemingly attentive ear to the choice flow
+of words, but in reality his little brain was busy with its own
+thoughts.  The article closed with the suggestion that if one
+were innocent and pure he would have a dreamless sleep
+
+   "If you have a conscience clear,
+    And God's commands you keep;
+    If your heart is good and pure,
+    You will have a perfect sleep."
+
+Billy's aunt concluded.  Wishing to know if he had understood
+what she had just read she asked:
+
+"What people sleep the soundest?"
+
+"Niggers," was his prompt reply, as he thought of the long summer
+days and the colored folk on the plantation.
+
+She was disappointed, but not discouraged.
+
+"Now, William," she admonished, "I'm going to read you another
+piece, and I want you to tell me about it, when I get through.
+Pay strict attention."
+
+"Yas 'm," he readily agreed.
+
+She chose an article describing the keen sense of smell in
+animals.  Miss Minerva was not an entertaining reader and the
+words were long and fairly incomprehensible to the little boy
+sitting patiently at her side.
+
+Again his thoughts wandered, though every now and then he caught
+a word or two.
+
+"What animals have the keenest sense of smell, William?" was her
+query at the conclusion of her reading.
+
+"Billy goats," was Billy's answer without the slightest
+hesitation.
+
+"You have goats on the brain," she said in anger.  "I did not
+read one word about billy goats."
+
+"Well, if 'taint a billy goat," he replied, "I do' know what 'tis
+'thout it's a skunk."
+
+"I bought you a little primer this morning," she remarked after
+a short silence, "and I want you to say a lesson every day."
+
+"I already knows a lot," he boasted.  "Tabernicle, he 'an'
+Mercantile both been to school an' they learnt me an' Wilkes
+Booth Lincoln.  I knows crooked S, an' broken back K, an' curly
+tail Q, an' roun' O, an' I can spell c-a-t cat, an' d-o-g dog an'
+A stands fer apple."
+
+That night he concluded his ever lengthy prayer at his
+kinswoman's knee with:
+
+"O Lord, please make for Aunt Minerva a little baby, make her two
+of 'em.  O Lord, if you got 'em to spare please make her three
+little babies an' let 'em all be girls so's she can learn 'em how
+to churn an' sew.  An' bless Aunt Minerva and Major Minerva, f'r
+ever 'nd ever. Amen."
+
+As he rose from his knees he asked: "Aunt Minerva, do God work on
+Sunday?"
+
+"No-o," answered his relative, hesitatingly.
+
+"Well, it look like He'd jest hafter work on Sunday, He's so
+busy jest a-makin' babies.  He makes all the niggers an' heathens
+an' Injuns an' white chillens; I reckon He gits somebody to help
+him.  Don't you, Aunt Minerva?"
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER VII
+
+                  RABBITS' AND OTHER EGGS
+
+
+Billy was sitting in the swing.  Jimmy crawled over the fence and
+joined him.
+
+"Miss Cecilia's dyeing me some Easter eggs," he said, "all blue
+and pink and green and yelluh and every kind they is; I tooken
+her some of our hen's eggs and she is going to fix 'em for me and
+they'll be just like rabbit's eggs; I reckon I'll have 'bout a
+million.  I'll give you one," he added generously.
+
+"I want more 'n one," declared Billy, who was used to having the
+lion's share of everything.
+
+"You all time talking 'bout you want more 'n one egg," said
+Jimmy.  "You 'bout the stingiest Peter they is.  Ain't you got no
+eggs?  Get Miss Minerva to give you some of hers and I'll take
+'em over and ask Miss Cecilia to dye 'em for you 'cause you ain't
+'quainted with her yet."
+
+"Aunt Minerva ain't got none 'cep'in' what she put under a of hen
+fer to set this mornin':"
+
+"Can't you get 'em from under the old hen?  Miss Minerva is such
+a Christian woman, she ain't--"
+
+"You done fool me 'bout that 'ligious business befo',"
+interrupted Billy, "an' I got put to bed in the daytime."
+
+"Well, she won't never miss two or three eggs," coaxed Jimmy.
+"How many did she put under the old hen?"
+
+"She put fifteen," was the response, "an' I don't believe she'd
+want me to tech 'em."
+
+"They 're 'bout the prettiest eggs ever was," continued the
+tempter, "all blue and pink and green, and 'bout a million kinds.
+They're just perzactly like rabbit's eggs."
+
+"Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hear teller no rabbit's
+eggs sence we's born," said Billy; "I don't berlieve rabbits
+lays eggs nohow."
+
+"They don' lay 'em 'cept to Easter," said Jimmy.  "Miss Cecilia
+'splained it all to me and she's my Sunday-School teacher and
+rabbits is bound to lay eggs 'cause it's in the Bible and she's
+'bout the prettiest 'splainer they is.  I'm going over there now
+to see 'bout my eggs," and he made believe to leave the swing.
+
+"Le's us slip roun' to the hen-house an' see what the of hen's
+a-doin'," suggested the sorely tempted Billy.  "Aunt Minerva is
+a-makin' me some nightshirts an' she ain't takin' no notice of
+nothin' else."
+
+They tiptoed stealthily around the house to the back-yard, but
+found the hen-house door locked.
+
+"Can't you get the key?" asked the younger child.
+
+"Naw, I can't," replied the other boy, "but you can git in th'oo
+this-here little hole what the chickens goes in at, whiles I
+watches fer Aunt Minerva.  I'll stand right here an' hol' my cap
+whiles you fetches me the eggs.  An' don't you take more 'n five
+or six," he warned.
+
+"I'm skeered of the old hen," objected Jimmy.  "Is she much of a
+pecker?"
+
+"Naw, she ain't a-goin' to hurt you," was the encouraging reply.
+"Git up an' crawl th'oo; I'll help you."
+
+Billy, having overcome his scruples, now entered into the
+undertaking with great zest.
+
+Jimmy climbed the chicken ladder, kicked his chubby legs through
+the aperture, hung suspended on his fat little middle for an
+instant, and finally, with much panting and tugging, wriggled his
+plump, round body into the hen-house.  He walked over where a
+lonesome looking hen was sitting patiently on a nest.  He put out
+a cautious hand and the hen promptly gave it a vicious peck.
+
+"Billy," he called angrily, "you got to come in here and hold
+this old chicken; she's 'bout the terriblest pecker they is."
+
+Billy stuck his head in the little square hole.  "Go at her from
+behind," he suggested; "put yo' hand under her easy like, an'
+don' let her know what you's up to."
+
+Jimmy tried to follow these instructions, but received another
+peck for his pains.  He promptly mutinied.
+
+"If you want any eggs," he declared, scowling at the face framed
+in the aperture, "you can come get 'em yourself.  I done monkeyed
+with this chicken all I'm going to."
+
+So Billy climbed up and easily got his lean little body through
+the opening.  He dexterously caught the hen by the nape of the
+neck, as he had seen Aunt Cindy do, while Jimmy reached for the
+eggs.
+
+"If we ain't done lef' my cap outside on the groun'," said Billy.
+"What we goin' to put the eggs in?"
+
+"Well, that's just like you, Billy, you all time got to leave
+your cap on the ground.  I'll put 'em in my blouse till you get
+outside and then I'll hand 'em to you.  How many you going to
+take?"
+
+"We might just as well git 'em all now," said Billy.  "Aunt Cindy
+say they's some kinder hens won't lay no chickens 't all if
+folks put they hands in they nests an' this here hen look like to
+me she's one of them kind, so the rester the egg'll jest be
+waste, any how, 'cause you done put yo' han's in her nes', an' a
+dominicker ain't a-goin' to stan' no projeckin' with her eggs.
+Hurry up."
+
+Jimmy carefully distributed the eggs inside his blouse, and Billy
+once more crawled through the hole and stood on the outside
+waiting, cap in hand, to receive them.
+
+But the patient hen had at last raised her voice in angry protest
+and set up a furious cackling, which so frightened the little boy
+on the inside that he was panic-stricken.  He caught hold of a
+low roost pole, swung himself up and, wholly unmindful of his blouse
+full of eggs, pushed his lower limbs through the hole and stuck
+fast.  A pair of chubby, sturdy legs, down which were slowly
+trickling little yellow rivulets, and half of a plump, round body
+were all that would go through.
+
+"Pull!" yelled the owner of the short fat legs.  "I'm stuck and
+can't go no furder.  Pull me th'oo, Billy."
+
+About this time the defrauded fowl flew from her nest and
+attempted to get out by her rightful exit.  Finding it stopped up
+by a wriggling, squirming body she perched herself on the little
+boy's neck and flapped her enraged wings in his face.
+
+"Pull!" yelled the child again, "help me th'oo, Billy, 'fore
+this fool chicken pecks all the meat off 'm my bones."
+
+Billy grabbed the sticky limbs and gave a valiant tug, but the
+body did not move an inch.  Alas, Jimmy with his cargo of broken
+eggs was fast imprisoned.
+
+"Pull again!" yelled the scared and angry child, "you 'bout the
+idjetest idjet they is if you can't do no better 'n that."
+
+Billy jerked with all his strength, but with no visible result.
+
+"Pull harder! You no-count gump!" screamed the prisoner, beating
+off the hen with his hands.
+
+The boy on the outside, who was strong for his years, braced
+himself and gave a mighty wrench of the other child's stout
+extremities.  Jimmy howled in pain and gave his friend an
+energetic kick.
+
+"Lemme go!" he shrieked, "you old impe'dunt backbiter.  I'm going
+to tell Miss Minerva you pulled my legs out by the roots."
+
+A small portion of the prisoner's blouse was visible.  Billy
+caught hold of it and gave a strong jerk.  There was a sound of
+ripping and tearing and the older boy fell sprawling on his back
+with a goodly portion of the younger child's raiment in his
+hands.
+
+"Now see what you done," yelled the victim of his energy, "you
+ain't got the sense of a buffalo gnat.  Oh! oh!  This hole is
+'bout to cut my stomach open."
+
+"Hush, Jimmy!" warned the other child.  "Don't make so much
+noise.  Aunt Minerva'll hear you."
+
+"I want her to hear me," screamed Jimmy.  "You'd like me to stay
+stuck in a chicken hole all night.  Oh! oh! oh!"
+
+The noise did indeed bring Billy's aunt out on a tour of
+investigation.  She had to knock a plank off the hen-house with
+an axe before Jimmy's release could be accomplished.  He was
+lifted down, red, angry, sticky, and perspiring, and was indeed
+a sight to behold.
+
+"Billy got to all time perpose something to get little boys in
+trouble," he growled, "and got to all time get 'em stuck in a
+hole in a chicken-house."
+
+"My nephew's name is William," corrected she.
+
+"You perposed this here yo'self!" cried an indignant Billy.  "Me
+an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln don' know nothin' 't all 'bout no
+rabbit's eggs sence we's born."
+
+"It doesn't matter who proposed it," said his aunt firmly.  "You
+are going to be punished, William.  I have just finished one of
+your night-shirts.  Come with me and put it on and go to bed.
+Jimmy, you go home and show yourself to your mother."
+
+"Pick up yo' shirt-tail offer the groun' what I tore off, Jimmy,"
+advised Billy, "an' take it home to yo' ma.  Aunt Minerva," he
+pleaded, following mournfully behind her, "please don't put me to
+bed; the Major he don' go to bed no daytimes; I won't never get
+me no mo' eggs to make rabbit's eggs outer."
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER VIII
+
+                      TELLERS OF TALES
+
+
+The days flew rapidly by.  Miss Minerva usually attempted to
+train Billy all the morning, and by the midday dinner hour she
+was so exhausted that she was glad to let him play in the front
+yard during the afternoon.
+
+Here he was often joined by the three children whose acquaintance
+he had made the day after his arrival, and the quartette became
+staunch friends and chums.
+
+All four were sitting in the swing one warm spring day, under the
+surveillance of Billy's aunt, sewing on the veranda.
+
+"Let's tell tales," suggested Jimmy.
+
+"All right," agreed Frances.  "I'll tell the first.  Once
+there's--"
+
+"Naw, you ain't neither," interrupted the little boy.  "You all
+time talking 'bout you going to tell the first tale.  I'm going
+to tell the first tale myself.  One time they's--"
+
+"No, you are not either," said Lina positively.  "Frances is a
+girl and she ought to be the first if she wants to.  Don't you
+think so, Billy?"
+
+"Yas, I does," championed he; "go on, Frances."
+
+That little girl, thus encouraged, proceeded to tell the first
+tale:
+
+"Once there's a man named Mr. Elisha, and he had a friend named
+Mr. Elijah, so his mantelpiece fell on top of his head and make
+him perfectly bald; he hasn't got a single hair and he hasn't
+got any money, 'cause mama read me 'bout he rented his garments,
+which is clo'es, 'cause he didn't have none at all what belong
+to him.  I spec' he just rented him a shirt and a pair o'
+breeches and wore 'em next to his hide 'thout no undershirt at all.
+He was drea'ful poor and had a miser'ble time and old mean Mr.
+Per'dventure took him up on a high mountain and left him, so when
+he come down some bad little childern say, `Go 'long back, bald
+head!' and they make pockmocks on him.  Seems like everybody
+treat him bad, so he cuss 'em, so I never see anybody with a bald
+head 'thout I run, 'cause I don't want to get cussed.  So two Teddy
+bears come out of the woods and ate up forty-two hunderd of--"
+
+"Why, Frances," reproved Lina, "you always get things wrong.  I
+don't believe they ate up that many children."
+
+"Yes, they did too," championed Jimmy, "'cause it's in the Bible
+and Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout it to me, and she's our
+Sunday-School teacher and 'bout the bullyest 'splainer they is.
+Them Teddy bears ate up 'bout a million chillens, which is all
+the little boys and girls two Teddy bears can hold at a time."
+
+"I knows a man what ain't got no hair 't all on his head,"
+remarked Billy; "he's a conjure-man an' me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln been talkin' to him ever sence we's born an' he ain't
+never cuss us, an' I ain't never got eat up by no Teddy bears
+neither.  Huccome him to be bald?  He's out in the fiel' one day
+a-pickin' cotton when he see a tu'key buzzard an' he talk to her
+like this:
+
+    "`I say tu'key buzzard, I say,
+     Who shall I see unexpected today?'
+
+"If she flop her wings three times you goin' to see yo'
+sweetheart, but this-here buzzard ain't flop no wings 't all; she
+jes' lean over an' th'ow up on his head an' he been bald ever
+sence; ev'y single hair come out."
+
+"Did you-all hear 'bout that 'Talian Dago that works on the
+section gang eating a buzzard?" asked Frances.
+
+"Naw," said Billy.  "Did it make him sick?"
+
+"That it did," she answered; "he sent for Doctor Sanford and
+tells him, `Me killa de big bird, me eat-a de big bird, de big
+bird make-a me seek."'
+
+"Them Dagoes 'bout the funniest talking folks they is," said
+Jimmy, "but they got to talk that way 'cause it's in the Bible.
+They 'sputed on the tower of Babel and the Lord say `Confound
+you!' Miss Cecilia 'splained it all to me and she's 'bout the
+dandiest 'splainer they is."
+
+"You may tell your tale now, Jimmy," said Lina.
+
+"I'm going to tell 'bout William Tell 'cause he's in the Bible,"
+said Jimmy.  "Once they's a man name'--"
+
+"William Tell isn't in the Bible," declared Lina.
+
+"Yes, he is too," contended the little boy, "Miss Cecilia
+'splained it to me.  You all time setting yourself up to know
+more'n me and Miss Cecilia.  One time they's a man name' William
+Tell and he had a little boy what's the cutest kid they is and
+the Devil come 'long and temp' him.  Then the Lord say, `William
+Tell, you and Adam and Eve can taste everything they is in the
+garden 'cepting this one apple tree; you can get all the pears
+and bunnanas and peaches and grapes and oranges and plums and
+persimmons and scalybarks and fig leaves and 'bout a million
+other kinds of fruit if you want to, but don't you tech a single
+apple.'  And the Devil temp' him and say he going to put his cap
+on a pole and everybody got to bow down to it for a idol and if
+William Tell don't bow down to it he got to shoot a apple for
+good or evil off 'm his little boy's head.  That's all the little
+boy William Tell and Adam and Eve got, but he ain't going to fall
+down and worship no gravy image on top a pole, so he put a
+tomahawk in his bosom and he tooken his bow and arrur and shot the
+apple plumb th'oo the middle and never swinge a hair of his head.
+And Eve nibble off the apple and give Adam the core, and Lina all
+time 'sputing 'bout Adam and Eve and William Tell ain't in the
+Bible.  They 're our first parents."
+
+"Now, Billy, you tell a tale and then it will be my time," said
+Lina with a savingthe-best-for-the-last air.
+
+"Once they was a of witch," said Billy, "what got outer her skin
+ev'y night an' lef' it on the he'rth an' turnt herself to a
+great, big, black cat an' go up the chim'ly an' go roun' an' ride
+folks fer horses, an' set on ev'ybody's chis' an' suck they
+breath an' kill 'em an' then come back to bed.  An' can't nobody
+ketch her tell one night her husban' watch her an' he see her
+jump outer her skin an' drop it on the he'rth an' turn to a
+'normous black cat an' go up the chim'ly.  An' he got outer the
+bed an' put some salt an' pepper an' vinegar on the skin an' she
+come back an' turnt to a 'oman an' try to git back in her skin
+an' she can't 'cause the salt an' pepper an' vinegar mos' burn
+her up, an' she keep on a-tryin' an' she can't never snuggle
+inter her skin 'cause it keep on a burnin' worser 'n ever, an'
+there she is a 'oman 'thout no skin on.  So she try to turn back
+to a cat an' she can't 'cause it's pas' twelve erclock, an' she
+jest swivvle an' swivvle tell fine'ly she jest swivvle all up.
+An' that was the las' of the ole witch an' her husban' live
+happy ever after.  Amen."
+
+"Once upon a time," said Lina, "there was a beautiful maiden and
+she was in love, but her wicked old parent wants her to marry a
+rich old man threescore and ten years old, which is 'most all the
+old you can get unless you are going to die; and the lovely
+princess said, `No, father, you may cut me in the twain but I
+will never marry any but my true love.'  So the wicked parent
+shut up the lovely maiden in a high tower many miles from the ground,
+and made her live on turnips and she had nothing else to eat; so
+one day when she was crying a little fairy flew in at the window
+and asked, `Why do you weep, fair one?'  And she said, `A wicked
+parent hath shut me up and I can't ever see my lover any more.'
+So the fairy touched her head with her wand and told her to hang
+her hair out of the window, and she did and it reached the
+ground, and her lover, holding a rope ladder in one hand and
+playing the guitar and singing with the other, climbed up by her
+hair and took her down on the ladder and his big black horse was
+standing near, all booted and spurred, and they rode away and
+lived happy ever after."
+
+"How he goin' to clam' up, Lina," asked Billy, "with a rope
+ladder in one hand and his guitar in the other?"
+
+"I don't know," was the dignified answer.  "That is the way it is
+told in my fairy-tale book."
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER IX
+
+                   CHANGING THE ETHIOPIAN
+
+
+Billy and Jimmy were sitting in the swing.
+
+"What makes your hair curl just like a girl's?" asked the latter.
+"It's 'bout the curliest hair they is."
+
+"Yes, it do," was Billy's mournful response.  "It done worry me
+'mos' to death.  Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born we
+done try ev'ything fer to get the curl out.  They was a Yankee
+man came 'long las' fall a-sellin' some stuff in a bottle what he
+call `No-To-Kink' what he say would take the kink outer any nigger's
+head.  An' Aunt Cindy bought a bottle fer to take the kink outer
+her hair an' me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln put some on us heads an'
+it jes' make mine curlier 'n what it was already.  I's 'shame' to
+go roun' folks with my cap off, a-lookin' like a frizzly chicken.
+Miss Cecilia say she like it though, an' we's engaged.  We's
+goin' to git married soon's I puts on long pants."
+
+"How long you been here, Billy?" asked the other boy.
+
+"Well, I don't know perxactly, but I been to Sunday-School four
+times.  I got engaged to Miss Cecilia that very firs' Sunday, but
+she didn' know it tell I went over to her house the nex' day an'
+tol' her 'bout it.  She say she think my hair is so pretty."
+
+"Pretty nothin'," sneered his rival.  "She jus' stuffin' you
+fuller 'n a tick with hot air.  It just makes you look like a
+girl.  There's a young lady come to spend a week with my mama
+not long ago and she put somepin' on her head to make it
+right yeller.  She left the bottle to our house and I know
+where 't is.  Maybe if you'd put some o' that on your head 't
+would take the curl out."
+
+"'Tain't nothin' a-goin' to do it no good," gloomily replied
+Billy.  "'Twould jest make it yeller 'n what 'tis now.  Won't
+I be a pretty sight when I puts on long pants with these here
+yaller curls stuck on topper my head?  I'd 'nuther sight ruther
+be bal'headed."
+
+"Bennie Dick's got 'bout the kinkiest head they is."
+
+Bennie Dick was the two-year-old baby of Mrs. Garner's cook,
+Sarah Jane.
+
+"It sho' is," replied Billy.  Wouldn't he look funny if he
+had yaller hair, 'cause his face is so black?"
+
+"I know where the bottle is," cried Jimmy, snatching eagerly
+at the suggestion.  "Let's go get it and put some on Bennie
+Dick's head and see if it'll turn it yeller."
+
+"Aunt Minerva don' want me to go over to yo' house," objected
+Billy.
+
+"You all time talking 'bout Miss Minerva won't let you go
+nowheres; she sure is imperdunt to you.  You 'bout the
+'fraidest boy they is . . . .  Come on, Billy," pleaded Jimmy.
+
+The little boy hesitated.
+
+"I don't want to git Aunt Minerva's dander der up any more
+'n I jest natchelly boun' to," he said, following Jimmy
+reluctantly to the fence; "but I'll jes' take a look at that
+bottle an' see ef it looks anything 't all like 'No-To-Kink'."
+
+Giggling mightily, they jumped the dividing fence and slipped
+with stealthy tread around the house to Sarah Jane's cabin in
+the back-yard.
+
+Bennie Dick was sitting on the floor before the open door, the
+entrance of which was, securely barricaded to keep him inside.
+Sarah Jane was in the kitchen cooking supper; they could hear
+her happy voice raised in religious melody; Mrs. Garner had not
+yet returned from a card party; the coast was clear, and the
+time propitious.
+
+Jimmy tiptoed to the house and soon returned with a big bottle of
+a powerful "blondine" in one hand and a stick of candy in the
+other.
+
+"Bennie Dick," he said, "here's a nice stick of candy for you if
+you'll let us wash your head."
+
+The negro baby's thick, red lips curved in a grin of delight, his
+shiny ebony face beamed happily, his round black eyes sparkled as
+he held out his fat, rusty little hands.  He sucked greedily at
+the candy as the two mischievous little boys uncorked the bottle
+and, poured a generous supply of the liquid on his head.  They
+rubbed it in well, grinning with delight.  They made a second and
+a third application before the bottle was exhausted; then they
+stood off to view the result of their efforts.  The effect was
+ludicrous.  The combination of coal black skin and red gold hair
+presented by the little negro exceeded the wildest expectations
+of Jimmy and Billy.  They shrieked with laughter and rolled over
+and over on the floor in their unbounded delight.
+
+"Hush!" warned Jimmy suddenly, "I believe Sarah Jane's coming out
+here to see 'bout Benny Dick.  Let's get behind the door and see
+what she's going to do."
+
+    "`Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      Hit were good fer Paul an' Silas,
+      An' hit's good ernough fer me.'"
+
+floated Sarah Jane's song nearer and nearer.
+
+    "`Hit's de ole time erligion,
+      Hit's de ole time'"
+
+She caught sight of her baby with his glistening black face
+and golden hair.  She threw up her hands, closed her eyes, and
+uttered a terrified shriek.  Presently she slowly opened
+her eyes and took a second peep at her curious-looking offspring.
+Sarah Jane screamed aloud:
+
+"Hit's de handiwork er de great Jehoshaphat!  Hit's de Marster's
+sign.  Who turnt yo' hair, Benny Dick?" she asked of the sticky
+little pickaninny sitting happily on the floor.  "Is a angel been
+here?"
+
+Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of
+comprehension.
+
+"Hit's de doing er de Lord," cried his mother.  "He gwine turn
+my chile white an' he done begunt on his head!"
+
+There was an ecstatic giggle from behind the door.
+
+Sarah Jane rushed inside as fast as her mammoth proportions
+would admit and caught a culprit in each huge black paw.
+
+"What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?" she asked.  "What yer
+been er-doing?"
+
+Sudden suspicion entered her mind as she caught sight of the
+empty bottle lying on a chair.  "You been er-putting' suthin'
+on my chile's head!  I knows yer, I's er-gwine ter make yo'
+mammy gi' ye de worses' whippin' yer eber got an' I's gwine
+ter take dis here William right ober ter Miss Minerva.  Ain't
+y' all 'shame' er yerselves?  Er tamperin' wid de ha'r what
+de good Lord put on er colored pusson's head an' ertryin'
+fer ter scarify my feelin's like yer done.  An' yer hear me,
+I's gwine see dat somebody got ter scarify yer hides."
+
+"If that ain't just like you, Billy," said Jimmy, "you all time
+got to perpose to make nigger heads yeller and you all time
+getting little boys in trouble.  You 'bout the smart Alexist
+jack-rabbit they is."
+
+"You perposed this here hair business yo'self, Jimmy,"
+retorted his fellow-conspirator.  "You's always blamin' yo'
+meanness on somebody else ever sence you's born."
+
+"Hit don't matter who perposed hit," said Sarah Jane firmly;
+"meanness has been did, an' y' all gotter be structified on
+de place pervided by natur fer ter lem my chile erlone."
+
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER X
+
+                    LO! THE POOR INDIANS
+
+
+Billy had just decided to run down to the livery stable to
+pay Sam Lamb a visit when the gate opened, and Lina and
+Frances, their beloved dolls in their arms, came skipping
+in.
+
+Jimmy, who had had a difference with Billy and was in the
+sulks on his own side of the fence, immediately crawled over
+and joined the others in the swing.  He was lonesome and the
+prospect of companionship was too alluring for him to nurse
+his anger longer.
+
+"Aunt Minerva's gone to the Aid Society," remarked the
+host.  "Don't y' all wish it met ev'y day 'stid 'er jes'
+meetin' ev'y Monday?"
+
+"Yes, I do," agreed Frances, "you can have so much fun when
+our mamas go to the Aid.  My mama's gone too, so she left me
+with Brother and he's writing a love letter to Ruth Shelton, so
+I slipped off."
+
+"Mother has gone to the Aid, too," said Lina.
+
+"My mama too," chimed in Jimmy, "she goes to the Aid every
+Monday and to card parties nearly all the time.  She telled
+Sarah Jane to 'tend to me and Sarah Jane's asleep.  I hear
+her snoring.  Ain't we glad there ain't no grown folks to
+meddle?  Can't we have fun?"
+
+"What'll we play?" asked Frances, who had deliberately
+stepped in a mud puddle on the way, and splashed mud all
+over herself, "let's make mud pies."
+
+"Naw, we ain't a-going to make no mud pies," objected Jimmy.
+"We can make mud pies all time when grown folks 'r' looking
+at you."
+
+"Le's's play sumpin' what we ain't never play, sence we 's
+born," put in Billy.
+
+"I hope grandmother won't miss me." said Lina, "she 's
+reading a very interesting book."
+
+"Let's play Injun!" yelled Jimmy; "we ain't never play' Injun."
+
+This suggestion was received with howls of delight.
+
+"My mama's got a box of red stuff that she puts on her face
+when she goes to the card parties.  She never puts none on
+when she just goes to the Aid.  I can run home and get the
+box to make us red like Injuns," said Frances.
+
+"My mother has a box of paint, too."
+
+"I ain't never see Aunt Minerva put no red stuff on her
+face," remarked Billy, disappointedly.
+
+"Miss Minerva, she don't never let the Major come to see
+her, nor go to no card parties is the reason," explained the
+younger boy, "she just goes to the Aid where they ain't no
+men, and you don't hafter put no red on your face at the
+Aid.  We'll let you have some of our paint, Billy.  My mama's
+got 'bout a million diff'ent kinds."
+
+"We got to have pipes," was Frances's next suggestion.
+
+"My papa's got 'bout a million pipes," boasted Jimmy, "but
+he got 'em all to the office, I spec'."
+
+"Father has a meerschaum."
+
+"Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe."
+
+"Miss Minerva's 'bout the curiousest woman they is," said Jimmy;
+"she ain't got nothing a tall; she ain't got no paint and she
+ain't got no pipe."
+
+"Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway,"
+said Lina, "but we must have feathers; all Indians wear
+feathers."
+
+"I'll get my mama's duster," said Jimmy.
+
+"Me, too," chimed in Frances.
+
+Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss
+Minerva's waning reputation.
+
+"Aunt Minerva's got a great, big buncher tu'key feathers an' I
+can git 'em right now," and the little boy flew into the house
+and was back in a few seconds.
+
+"We must have blankets, of course," said Lina, with the air of
+one whose word is law; "mother has a genuine Navajo."
+
+"I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me,"
+put in Jimmy.
+
+"We can use hatchets for tomahawks," continued the little girl.
+"Come on, Frances; let us go home and get our things and come
+back here to dress up.  Run, Jimmy, get your things!  You, too,
+Billy!" she commanded.
+
+The children ran breathlessly to their homes nearby and collected
+the different articles necessary to transform them into
+presentable Indians.  They soon returned, Jimmy dumping his load
+over the fence and tumbling after; and the happy quartette sat
+down on the grass in Miss Minerva's yard.  First the paint boxes
+were opened and generously shared with Billy, as with their
+handkerchiefs they spread thick layers of rouge over their
+charming, bright, mischievous little faces.
+
+The feather decoration was next in order.
+
+"How we goin' to make these feathers stick?" asked Billy.
+
+They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the
+rescue.
+
+"Wait a minute," he cried, "I'll be back 'fore you can say `Jack
+Robinson'."
+
+He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully
+holding up a bottle.
+
+"This muc'lage'll make 'em stick," he panted, almost out of
+breath.
+
+Lina assumed charge of the head-dresses.  She took Billy first,
+rubbed the mucilage well into his sunny curls, and filled his head
+full of his aunt's turkey feathers, leaving them to stick out
+awkwardly in all directions and at all angles.  Jimmy and Frances,
+after robbing their mothers' dusters, were similarly decorated,
+and last, Lina, herself, was tastefully arrayed by the combined
+efforts of the other three.
+
+At last all was in readiness.
+
+Billy, regardless of consequences, had pinned his aunt's newest
+grey blanket around him and was viewing, with satisfied
+admiration, its long length trailing on the-grass behind him; Lina
+had her mother's treasured Navajo blanket draped around her
+graceful little figure; Frances, after pulling the covers off of
+several beds and finding nothing to suit her fanciful taste, had
+snatched a gorgeous silk afghan from the leather couch in the
+library.  It was an expensive affair of intricate pattern, delicate
+stitches; and beautiful embroidery with a purple velvet border and
+a yellow satin lining.  She had dragged one corner of it through
+the mud puddle and torn a big rent in another place.
+
+Jimmy was glorious in a bright red blanket, carrying his little
+bow and arrow.
+
+"I'm going to be the Injun chief," he boasted.
+
+"I'm going to be a Injun chief, too," parroted Frances.
+
+"Chief, nothing!" he sneered, "you all time trying to be a Injun
+chief.  You 'bout the pompousest little girl they is.  You can't
+be a chief nohow; you got to be a squash, Injun ladies 'r' name'
+squashes; me an' Billy's the chiefs.  I'm name' old Setting Bull,
+hi'self."
+
+"You can't be named `Bull,' Jimmy," reproved Lina, "it isn't
+genteel to say `bull' before people."
+
+"Yes, I am too," he contended.  "Setting Bull's the biggest chief
+they is and I'm going to be name' him."
+
+"Well, I am not going to play then," said Lina primly, "my mother
+wants me to be genteel, and `bull' is not genteel."
+
+"I tell you what, Jimmy," proposed Frances, "you be name'
+`Setting Cow.  'Cow' is genteel 'cause folks milk 'em."
+
+"Naw, I ain't going to be name' no cow, neither," retorted the
+little Indian, "you all time trying to 'suade somebody to be
+name' `Setting Cow'."
+
+"He can't be name' a cow,"--Billy now entered into the discussion
+--"'cause he ain't no girl.  Why don' you be name' 'Settin'
+Steer'?
+Is `steer' genteel, Lina?" he anxiously inquired.
+
+"Yes, he can be named `Sitting Steer'," she granted.  Jimmy
+agreeing to the compromise, peace was once more restored.
+
+"Frances and Lina got to be the squashes," he began.
+
+"It isn't `squashes,' it is `squaws,"' corrected Lina.
+
+"Yes, 'tis squashes too," persisted Jimmy, "'cause it's in the
+Bible and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she's 'bout the
+high-steppingest 'splainer they is.  Me and Billy is the chiefs,"
+he shouted, capering around, "and you and Frances is the squashes
+and got to have papooses strop' to your back."
+
+"Bennie Dick can be a papoose," suggested Billy.
+
+"I'm not going to be a Injun squash if I got to have a nigger
+papoose strapped to my back!" cried an indignant Frances.
+"You can strap him to your own back, Billy."
+
+"But I ain't no squash," objected that little Indian.
+
+"We can have our dolls for papooses," said Lina, going to the
+swing where the dolls had been left.  Billy pulled a piece of
+string from his pocket and the babies were safely strapped to
+their mothers' backs.  With stately tread, headed by Sitting
+Steer, the children marched back and forth across the lawn in
+Indian file.
+
+So absorbed were they in playing Indian that they forgot the
+flight of time until their chief suddenly stopped, all his
+brave valor gone as he pointed with trembling finger up the
+street.
+
+That part of the Ladies' Aid Society which lived in West
+Covington was bearing down upon them.
+
+"Yonder's our mamas and Miss Minerva," he whispered.  "Now look
+what a mess Billy's done got us in; he all time got to perpose
+someping to get chillens in trouble and he all time got to let
+grown folks ketch em."
+
+"Aren't you ashamed to tell such a story, Jimmy Garner?" cried
+Frances.  "Billy didn't propose any such thing.  Come on, let's
+run," she suggested.
+
+"'Tain't no use to run," advised Jimmy.  "They're too close and
+done already see us.  We boun' to get what's coming to us anyway,
+so you might jus' as well make 'em think you ain't 'fraid of 'em.
+Grown folks got to all time think little boys and girls 'r'
+skeered of 'em, anyhow."
+
+"Aunt Minerva'll sho' put me to bed this time," said Billy.
+"Look like ev'y day I gotter go to bed."
+
+"Mother will make me study the catechism all day to-morrow," said
+Lina dismally.
+
+"Mama'll lock me up in the little closet under the stairway,"
+said Frances.
+
+"My mama'll gimme 'bout a million licks and try to take all the
+hide off o' me," said Jimmy; "but we done had a heap of fun."
+
+It was some hours later.  Billy's aunt had ruthlessly clipped the
+turkey feathers from his head, taking the hair off in great
+patches.  She had then boiled his scalp, so the little boy
+thought, in her efforts to remove the mucilage.  Now, shorn of his
+locks and of some of his courage, the child was sitting quietly by
+her side, listening to a superior moral lecture and indulging in a
+compulsory heart-to-heart talk with his relative.
+
+"I don't see that it does you any good, William, to put you to
+bed."
+
+"I don' see as it do neither," agreed Billy.
+
+"I can not whip you; I am constitutionally opposed to corporal
+punishment for children."
+
+"I's 'posed to it too," he assented.
+
+"I believe I will hire a servant, so that I may devote my
+entire time to your training."
+
+This prospect for the future did not appeal to her nephew.  On
+the contrary it filled him with alarm.
+
+"A husban' 'd be another sight handier," he declared with
+energy; "he 'd be a heap mo' 'count to you 'n a cook, Aunt
+Minerva.  There's that Major--"
+
+"You will never make a preacher of yourself, William, unless
+you improve."
+
+The child looked up at her in astonishment; this was the
+first he knew of his being destined for the ministry.
+
+"A preacher what 'zorts an' calls up mourners?" he said,
+--"not on yo' tin-type.  Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln--"
+
+"How many times have I expressed the wish not to have you
+bring that negro's name into the conversation?" she
+impatiently interrupted.
+
+"I don' perzactly know, 'm," he answered good humoredly,
+"'bout fifty hunerd, I reckon.  Anyways, Aunt Minerva, I
+ain't goin' to be no preacher.  When I puts on long pants I's
+goin' to be a Confedrit Vet'run an' kill 'bout fifty hunderd
+Yankees an' Injuns, like my Major man."
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER XI
+
+                     NOW RIDDLE ME THIS
+
+
+The children were sitting in the swing.  Florence Hammer, a
+little girl whose mother was spending the day at Miss Minerva's,
+was with them.
+
+"Don't you-all wish Santa Claus had his birthday right now
+'stead 'o waiting till Christmas to hang up our stockings?"
+asked Frances.
+
+"Christmas isn't Santa Claus' birthday," corrected Lina.  "God
+was born on Christmas and that's the reason we hang up our
+stockings."
+
+"Yes; it is old Santa's birthday, too," argued Jimmy, "'cause
+it's in the Bible and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she
+'bout the dandiest 'splainer they is."
+
+"Which you-all like the best: God or Doctor Sanford or Santa
+Claus?" asked Florence.
+
+"I like God 'nother sight better 'n I do anybody," declared
+Jimmy, "'cause He so forgivingsome.  He's 'bout the forgivingest
+person they is.  Santa Claus can't let you go to Heaven nor
+Doctor Sanford neither, nor our papas and mamas nor Miss Minerva.
+Now wouldn't we be in a pretty fix if we had to 'pend on Doctor
+Sanford or Santa Claus to forgive you every time you run off or
+fall down and bust your breeches. Naw; gimme God evy time."
+
+"I like Santa Claus the best," declared Frances, "'cause he
+isn't f'rever getting in your way, and hasn't any castor oil
+like Doctor Sanford, and you don't f'rever have to be telling
+him you're sorry you did what you did, and he hasn't all time
+got one eye on you either, like God, and got to follow you
+'round.  And Santa Claus don't all time say, Shet your eyes and
+open your mouth,' like Doctor Sanford, `and poke out your tongue.'"
+
+"I like Doctor Sanford the best," said Florence, "'cause he 's
+my uncle, and God and Santa Claus ain't kin to me."
+
+"And the Bible say, `Love your kin-folks,' Miss Cecilia
+'splained--"
+
+"I use to like my Uncle Doc' heap better 'n what I do now," went
+on the little girl, heedless of Jimmy's interruption, "till I
+went with daddy to his office one day.  And what you reckon that
+man's got in his office?  He's got a dead man 'thout no meat nor
+clo'es on, nothing a tall but just his bones."
+
+"Was he a hant?" asked Billy.  "I like the Major best--he 's
+got meat on."
+
+"Naw; he didn't have no sheet on--just bones," was the reply.
+
+"No sheet on; no meat on!" chirruped Billy, glad of the rhyme.
+
+"Was he a angel, Florence?" questioned Frances.
+
+"Naw; he didn't have no harp and no wings neither."
+
+"It must have been a skeleton," explained Lina.
+
+"And Uncle Doc' just keeps that poor man there and won't let
+him go to Heaven where dead folks b'longs''
+
+"I spec' he wasn't a good man 'fore he died and got to go to the
+Bad Place," suggested Frances.
+
+"I'll betcher he never asked God to forgive him when he 'ceived
+his papa and sassed his mama,"--this from Jimmy, "and Doctor
+Sanford's just a-keeping old Satan from getting him to toast on
+a pitchfork."
+
+"I hope they'll have a Christmas tree at Sunday-School next
+Christmas," said Frances, harking back, "and I hope I'll get a
+heap o' things like I did last Christmas.  Poor little Tommy
+Knott he's so skeered he wasn't going to get nothing at all on the
+tree so he got him a great, big, red apple an' he wrote on a piece
+o' paper `From Tommy Knott to Tommy Knott,' and tied it to the
+apple and put it on the tree for hi'self."
+
+"Let's ask riddles," suggested Lina.
+
+"All right," shouted Frances, "I'm going to ask the first."
+
+"Naw; you ain't neither," objected Jimmy.  "You all time got
+to ask the first riddle.  I'm going to ask the first one--
+
+    "`Round as a biscuit, busy as a bee,
+      Prettiest little thing you ever did see?'--
+                                      'A watch.'
+
+    "Humpty Dumpty set on a wall,
+     Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
+     All the king's horses and all the king's men
+     Can't put Humpty Dumpty back again.  '
+                                      `A egg.'
+
+    "`Round as a ring, deep as a cup,
+      All the king's horses can't pull it up.  '
+                                      `A well.'
+
+    "`House full, yard full, can't ketch--'"
+
+"Hush, Jimmy!" cried Lina, in disgust.  "You don't know how
+to ask riddles.  You must n't give the answers, too.  Ask one
+riddle at a time and let some one else answer it.  I'll ask
+one and see who can answer it:
+
+    "'As I was going through a field of wheat
+      I picked up something good to eat,
+     'Twas neither fish nor flesh nor bone,
+      I kept it till it ran alone?'"
+
+"A snake!  A snake!" guessed Florence.  "That's a easy riddle."
+
+"Snake, nothing!" scoffed Jimmy, "you can't eat a snake.  'Sides
+Lina wouldn't 'a' picked up a snake.  Is it a little baby rabbit,
+Lina?"
+
+"It was neither fish nor flesh nor bone," she declared; "and a
+rabbit is flesh and bone."
+
+"Then it's boun' to be a apple," was Jimmy's next guess;
+"that ain't no flesh and blood and it's good to eat."
+
+"An apple can't run alone," she triumphantly answered.  "Give
+it up?  Well, it was an egg and it hatched to a chicken.  Now,
+Florence, you ask one."
+
+"S'pose a man was locked up in a house," she asked, "how'd
+he get out?"
+
+"Clam' outer a winder," guessed Billy.
+
+"'Twa'n't no winder to the house," she declared.
+
+"Crawled out th'oo the chim'ly, like Santa Claus," was Billy's
+next guess.
+
+"'Twa'n't no chim'ly to it.  Give it up?  Give it up?" the little
+girl laughed gleefully.  "Well, he just broke out with
+measles."
+
+"It is Billy's time," said Lina, who seemed to be mistress of
+ceremonies.
+
+"Tabernicle learnt this here one at school; 'see, if y' all
+can guess it: `Tabby had four kittens but Stillshee didn't
+have none 't all"'
+
+"I don't see no sense a tall in that," argued Jimmy, "'thout
+some bad little boys drownded 'em."
+
+"Tabby was a cat," explained the other boy, "and she had four
+kittens; and Stillshee was a little girl, and she didn't have
+no kittens 't all."
+
+"What's this," asked Jimmy: "`A man rode'cross a bridge and
+Fido walked?  'Had a little dog name' Fido."
+
+"You didn't ask that right, Jimmy," said Lina, "you always
+get things wrong.  The riddle is, `A man rode across a bridge
+and Yet he walked,' and the answer is, `He had a little dog
+named Yet who walked across the bridge.'"
+
+"Well, I'd 'nother sight ruther have a little dog name' Fido,"
+declared Jimmy.  "A little dog name' Yet and a little girl
+name' Stillshee ain't got no sense a tall to it."
+
+"Why should a hangman wear suspenders?" asked Lina.  "I'll
+bet nobody can answer that."
+
+"To keep his breeches from falling off," triumphantly
+answered Frances.
+
+"No, you goose, a hangman should wear suspenders so that he
+'d always have a gallows handy."
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XII
+
+                 IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD.
+
+
+It was a beautiful Sunday morning.  The pulpit of the Methodist
+Church was not occupied by its regular pastor, Brother Johnson.
+Instead, a traveling minister, collecting funds for a church
+orphanage in Memphis, was the speaker for the day.  Miss Minerva
+rarely missed a service in her own church.  She was always on
+hand at the Love Feast and the Missionary Rally and gave
+liberally of her means to every cause.  She was sitting in her
+own pew between Billy and Jimmy, Mr. and Mrs. Garner having
+remained at home.  Across the aisle from her sat Frances Black,
+between her father and mother; two pews in front of her were Mr.
+and Mrs. Hamilton, with Lina on the outside next the aisle.  The
+good Major was there, too; it was the only place he could depend
+upon for seeing Miss Minerva.
+
+The preacher, after an earnest and eloquent discourse from
+the text, "He will remember the fatherless," closed the big
+Bible with a bang calculated to wake any who might be
+sleeping.  He came down from the pulpit and stood close to
+his hearers as he made his last pathetic appeal.
+
+"My own heart," said he, "goes out to every orphan child,
+for in the yellow fever epidemic of '78, when but two years
+old, I lost both father and mother.  If there are any little
+orphan children here to-day, I should be glad if they would
+come up to the front and shake hands with me."
+
+Now Miss Minerva always faithfully responded to every
+proposal made by a preacher; it was a part of her religious
+conviction.  At revivals she was ever a shining, if solemn
+and austere, light.  When a minister called for all those who
+wanted to go to Heaven to rise, she was always the first one
+on her feet.  If he asked to see the raised hands of those
+who were members of the church at the tender age of ten
+years, Miss Minerva's thin, long arm gave a prompt response.
+Once when a celebrated evangelist was holding a big
+protracted meeting under canvas in the town and had asked
+all those who had read the book of Hezekiah in the Bible to
+stand up, Miss Minerva on one side of the big tent and her
+devoted lover on the other side were among the few who had
+risen to their feet.  She had read the good book from cover
+to cover from Genesis to Revelation over and over so she
+thought she had read Hezekiah a score of times.
+
+So now, when the preacher called for little orphans to come
+forward, she leaned down and whispered to her nephew, "Go up
+to the front, William, and shake hands with the nice kind
+preacher."
+
+"Wha' fer?" he asked.  "I don' want to go up there; ev'ybody
+here'll look right at me."
+
+"Are there no little orphans here?" the minister was saying.
+"I want to shake the hand of any little child who has had
+the misfortune to lose its parents."
+
+"Go on, William," commanded his aunt.  "Go shake hands with
+the preacher."
+
+The little boy again demurred but, Miss Minerva insisting,
+he obediently slipped by her and by his chum.  Walking
+gracefully and jauntily up the aisle to the spot where the
+lecturer was standing by a broad table, he held out his
+slim, little hand.
+
+Jimmy looked at these proceedings of Billy's in
+astonishment, not comprehending at all.  He was rather
+indignant that the older boy had not confided in him and
+invited his participation.
+
+But Jimmy was not the one to sit calmly by and be ignored
+when there was anything doing, so he slid awkwardly from the
+bench before Miss Minerva knew what he was up to.  Signaling
+Frances to follow, he swaggered pompously behind Billy and
+he, too, held out a short, fat hand to the minister.
+
+The speaker smiled benignly down upon them; lifting them up
+in his arms he stood the little boys upon the table.  He
+thought the touching sight of these innocent and tender
+little orphans would empty the pockets of the audience.
+Billy turned red with embarrassment at his conspicuous
+position, while Jimmy grinned happily at the amused
+congregation.  Horrified Miss Minerva half rose to her feet,
+but decided to remain where she was.  She was a timid woman
+and did not know what course she ought to pursue.  Besides,
+she had just caught the Major's smile.
+
+"And how long have you been an orphan?" the preacher was
+asking of Billy.
+
+"Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born," sweetly
+responded the child.
+
+"I 'bout the orphantest boy they is," volunteered Jimmy.
+
+Frances, responding to the latter's invitation, had crawled
+over her father's legs before he realized what was happening.
+She, too, went sailing down the aisle, her stiff white dress
+standing straight up in the back like a strutting gobbler's
+tail.  She grabbed hold of the man's hand, and was promptly
+lifted to the table beside the other "orphans."  Tears stood
+in the good preacher's eyes as he turned to the tittering
+audience and said in a pathetic voice, "Think of it, my friends,
+this beautiful little girl has no mother."
+
+Poor Mrs. Black!  A hundred pairs of eyes sought her pew and
+focused themselves upon the pretty young woman sitting
+there, red, angry, and shamefaced.  Mr. Black was visibly
+amused and could hardly keep from laughing aloud.
+
+As Frances passed by the Hamiltons' pew in her promenade
+down the aisle, Mrs. Hamilton leaned across her husband and
+made an attempt to clutch Lina; but she was too late;
+already that dignified little "orphan" was gliding with
+stately, conscious tread to join the others.  This was too
+much for the audience.  A few boys laughed out and for the
+first time the preacher's suspicions were aroused.  As he
+clasped Lina's slender, graceful little hand he asked:
+
+"And you have no father or mother, little girl?"
+
+"Yes, I have, too," she angrily retorted.  "My father and
+mother are sitting right there," and she pointed a slim
+forefinger to her crimson, embarrassed parents.
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XIII
+
+                   JOB AND POLLIE BUMPUS
+
+
+I never have told a downright falsehood," said Lina.  "Mother
+taught me how wicked it is to tell stories.  Did you ever
+tell a fib to your mother, Frances?"
+
+"'Tain't no use to try to 'ceive my mama," was the reply of the
+other little girl; "she's got such gimlet eyes and ears she can
+tell with 'em shut if you're fibbing.  I gave up hope long ago,
+so I just go 'long and tell her the plain gospel truth when she
+asks me, 'cause I know those gimlet eyes and ears of hers 're
+going to worm it out o' me somehow."
+
+"Grown folks pin you down so close sometimes," said Jimmy, "you
+bound to 'varicate a little; and I always tell God I'm sorry.  I
+tell my mama the truth 'most all time 'cepting when she asks
+questions 'bout things ain't none of her business a tall, and
+she all time want to know `Who done it?' and if I let on it's me,
+I know she'll wear out all the slippers and hair-brushes they is
+paddling my canoe, 'sides switches, so I jus' say `I do' know,
+'m'--which all time ain't perzactly the truth.  You ever tell
+Miss Minerva stories, Billy?"
+
+"Aunt Cindy always say, 't wa'n't no harm 't all to beat 'bout
+the bush an' try to th'ow folks offer the track 'long as you can,
+but if it come to the point where you got to tell a out-an'-out
+fib, she say for me always to tell the truth, an' I jest nachelly
+do like she say ever sence I's born," replied Billy.
+
+The children swung awhile in silence.  Presently Jimmy broke
+the quiet by remarking
+
+"Don't you all feel sorry for old Miss Pollie Bumpus?  She live
+all by herself, and she 'bout a million years old, and Doctor
+Sanford ain't never brung her no chillens 'cause she ain't got
+'er no husban' to be their papa, and she got a octopus in her
+head, and she poor as a post and deaf as job's old turkey-hen."
+
+"Job's old turkey-hen wasn't deaf," retorted Lina primly;
+"she was very, very poor and thin."
+
+"She was deaf, too," insisted Jimmy, "'cause it's in the
+Bible.  I know all 'bout job," bragged he.
+
+"I know all 'bout job, too," chirped Frances.
+
+"Job, nothing!" said Jimmy, with a sneer; "you all time
+talking 'bout you know all 'bout job; you 'bout the womanishest
+little girl they is.  Now I know job 'cause Miss Cecilia
+'splained all 'bout him to me.  He's in the Bible and he sold
+his birthmark for a mess of potatoes and--"
+
+"You never can get anything right, Jimmy," interrupted Lina;
+"that was Esau and it was not his birthmark, it was his
+birthstone; and he sold his birthstone for a mess of potash."
+
+"Yas," agreed Frances; "he saw Esau kissing Kate and Esau
+had to sell him his birthstone to keep his mouth shut."
+
+"Mother read me all about job," continued Lina; "he was
+afflicted with boils and his wife knit him a job's comforter
+to wrap around him, and he--"
+
+"And he sat under a 'tato vine;" put in Frances eagerly,
+"what God grew to keep the sun off o' his boils and--"
+
+"That was Jonah," said Lina, "and it wasn't a potato vine;
+it was--"
+
+"No, 't wasn't Jonah neither; Jonah is inside of a whale's bel--"
+
+"Frances!"
+
+"Stommick," Frances corrected herself, "and a whale swallow
+him, and how's he going to sit under a pumpkin vine when
+he's inside of a whale?"
+
+"It was not a pumpkin vine, it--"
+
+"And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting
+under a morning-glory vine."
+
+"The whale vomicked him up," said Jimmy.
+
+"What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in
+Miss Pollie Bumpus's head?" asked Billy.
+
+"'Tain't a octopus, it's a polypus," explained Frances, "'cause
+she's named Miss Pollie.  It's a someping that grows in your
+nose and has to be named what you's named.  She's named Miss
+Pollie and she's got a polypus."
+
+"I'm mighty glad my mama ain't got no Eva-pus in her head,"
+was Jimmy's comment.  "Ain't you glad, Billy, your Aunt
+Minerva ain't got no Miss Minervapus?"
+
+"I sho' is," fervently replied Miss Minerva's nephew; "she's
+hard 'nough to manage now like she is."
+
+"I'm awful good to Miss Pollie," said Frances.  "I take her
+someping good to eat 'most every day.  I took her two pieces
+of pie this morning; I ate up one piece on the way and she
+gimme the other piece when I got there.  I jus' don't believe
+she could get 'long at all 'thout me to carry her the good
+things to eat that my mama sends her; I takes her pies all
+the time, she says they're the best smelling pies ever she
+smelt."
+
+"You 'bout the piggiest girl they is," said Jimmy, "all time
+got to eat up a poor old woman's pies.  You'll have a
+Frances-pus in your stomach first thing you know."
+
+"She's got a horn that you talk th'oo," continued the little
+girl, serenely contemptuous of Jimmy's adverse criticism,
+"and 'fore I knew how you talk into it, she says to me one
+day, `How's your ma?' and stuck that old horn at me; so I
+put it to my ear, too, and there we set; she got one end of
+the horn to her ear and I got the other end to my ear; so
+when I saw this wasn't going to work I took it and blew into
+it; you-all 'd died a-laughing to see the way I did.  But now
+I can talk th'oo it 's good's anybody."
+
+"That is an ear trumpet, Frances," said Lina, "it is not a
+horn."
+
+"Le's play `Hide the Switch,'" suggested Billy.
+
+"I'm going to hide it first," cried Frances.
+
+"Naw, you ain't," objected Jimmy, "you all time got to hide
+the switch first.  I'm going to hide it first myself."
+
+"No, I'm going to say `William Com Trimbleton,'" said
+Frances, "and see who's going to hide it first.  Now you-all
+spraddle out your fingers."
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XIV.
+
+                     Mr. ALGERNON JONES
+
+
+Again was it Monday, with the Ladies Aid Society in session.
+Jimmy was sitting on the grass in his own front yard, in
+full view of Sarah Jane, who was ironing clothes in her
+cabin with strict orders to keep him at home.  Billy was in
+the swing in Miss Minerva's yard.
+
+"Come on over," he invited.
+
+"I can't," was the reply across the fence, "I'm so good now
+I 'bout got 'ligion; I reckon I'm going to be a mish'nary
+or a pol'tician, one or t' other when I'm a grownup man
+'cause I'm so good; I ain't got but five whippings this
+week.  I been good ever since I let you 'suade me to play
+Injun.  I'm the goodest little boy in this town, I 'spec'.
+Sometimes I get scared 'bout being so good 'cause I hear a
+woman say if you too good, you going to die or you ain't got
+no sense, one.  You come on over here; you ain't trying to be
+good like what I'm trying, and Miss Minerva don't never do
+nothing a tall to you 'cepting put you to bed."
+
+"I'd ruther to git whipped fifty hunderd times 'n to hafter
+go to bed in the daytime with Aunt Minerva lookin' at you.
+An' her specs can see right th'oo you plumb to the bone.
+Naw, I can't come over there 'cause she made me promise not
+to.  I ain't never go back on my word yit."
+
+"I hope mama won't never ask me to promise her nothing a
+tall, 'cause I'm mighty curious 'bout forgetting.  I 'spec'
+I'm the most forgettingest little boy they is.  But I'm so
+glad I'm so good.  I ain't never going to be bad no more; so
+you might just as well quit begging me to come over and
+swing, you need n't ask me no more,--'tain't no use a tall."
+
+"I ain't a-begging you," cried Billy contemptuously, "you
+can set on yo' mammy's grass where you is, an' be good from
+now tell Jedgement Day an' 'twon't make no change in my
+business."
+
+"I ain't going to be 'ticed into no meanness, 'cause I'm so
+good," continued the reformed one, after a short silence
+during which he had seen Sarah Jane turn her back to him, "but
+I don't b'lieve it'll be no harm jus' to come over and set in
+the swing with you; maybe I can 'fluence you to be good like
+me and keep you from 'ticing little boys into mischief.  I think
+I'll just come over and set a while and help you to be good,"
+and he started to the fence.  Sarah Jane turned around in time
+to frustrate his plans.
+
+"You git right back, Jimmy," she yelled, "you git erway f'om
+dat-ar fence an' quit confabbin' wid datar Willyum.  Fixin'
+to make some mo' Injuns out o' yo'selfs, ain't yeh, or some
+yuther kin' o' skeercrows?"
+
+Billy strolled to the other side of the big yard and climbed
+up and sat on the tall gate post.  A stranger, coming from
+the opposite direction, stopped and spoke to him.
+
+"Does Mr. John Smith live here?" he asked.
+
+"Naw, sir," was the reply; "don't no Mr. 'tall live here;
+jest me an' Aunt Minerva, an' she turns up her nose at
+anything that wears pants."
+
+"And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?" the stranger's
+grin was ingratiating and agreeable.
+
+"Why, this here's Monday," the little boy exclaimed.  "Of
+course she's at the Aid; all the 'omans roun' here goes to
+the Aid on Monday."
+
+"Your aunt is an old friend of mine," went on the man, "and
+I knew she was at the Aid.  I just wanted to find out if you'd
+tell the truth about her.  Some little boys tell stories, but
+I am glad to find out you are so truthful.  My name is Mr.
+Algernon Jones and I'm glad to know you.  Shake!  Put it there,
+partner," and the fascinating stranger held out a grimy paw.
+
+Billy smiled down from his perch at him and thought he had
+never met such a pleasant man.  If he was such an old friend
+of his aunt's maybe she would not object to him because he
+wore pants, he thought.  Maybe she might be persuaded to take
+Mr. Jones for a husband.  Billy almost hoped that she would
+hurry home from the Aid, he wanted to see the two together
+so.
+
+"Is you much of a cusser?" he asked solemnly, "'cause if you
+is you'll hafter cut it out on these premises."
+
+Mr. Jones seemed much surprised and hurt at the question.
+
+"An oath never passed these lips," replied the truthful
+gentleman.
+
+"Can you churn?"
+
+"Churn--churn?" with a reminiscent smile, "I can churn like
+a top."
+
+Jimmy was dying of curiosity but the gate was too far away
+for him to do more than catch a word now and then.  It was
+also out of Sarah Jane's visual line, so she knew nothing of
+the stranger's advent.
+
+"And you're here all by yourself?" insinuated Billy's new
+friend.  "And the folks next door, where are they?"
+
+"Mrs. Garner's at the Aid an' Mr. Garner's gone to
+Memphis.  That is they little boy a-settin' in they yard on
+they grass," answered the child.
+
+"I've come to fix your Aunt Minerva's water pipe," said
+truth-loving Mr. Jones.  "Come, show me the way; I'm the
+plumber."
+
+"In the bath-room?" asked the child.  "I did n' know it
+needed no fixin'."
+
+He led the agreeable plumber through the hall, down the long
+back-porch to the bathroom, remarking "I'll jes' watch you
+work."  And he seated himself in the only chair.
+
+Here is where Billy received one of the greatest surprises
+of his life.  The fascinating stranger grabbed him with a
+rough hand and hissed:
+
+"Don't you dare open your mouth or I'll crack your head
+open and scatter your brains.  I'll eat you alive."
+
+The fierce, bloodshot eyes, which had seemed so laughing and
+merry before, now glared into those of the little boy as the
+man took a stout cord from his pocket, bound Billy to the
+chair, and gagged him with a large bath towel.  Energetic Mr.
+Jones took the key out of the door, shook his fist at the
+child, went out, and locked the door behind him.
+
+Jimmy, seeing no hope of eluding Sarah Jane's vigilance,
+resorted to strategy and deceit.
+
+"'Tain't no fun setting out here," he called to her, "so I
+'m going in the house and take a nap."
+
+She willingly consented, as she was through with her ironing
+and thought to snatch a few winks of sleep herself.
+
+The little boy slipped quietly through the house, noiselessly
+across the back-yard and into his father's big garden, which
+was separated from that of his neighbor by a high board-fence.
+He quickly climbed the fence, flew across Miss Minerva's tomato
+patch and tiptoed up her back steps to the back porch, his
+little bare feet giving no sign of his presence.  Hearing
+curious noises coming from the bad-room, where Billy was
+bumping the chair up and down in his efforts to release his
+mouth, he made for that spot, promptly unlocked the door, and
+walked in.  Billy by scuffling and tugging had freed his mouth
+from the towel that bound it at that moment.
+
+"Hush!" he whispered as Jimmy opened the door, "you'll get eat
+up alive if you don't look out."  His tone was so mysterious and
+thrilling and he looked so scared tied to the chair that the
+younger boy's blood almost froze in his veins.
+
+"What you doing all tied up so?" he asked in low, frightened
+tones.
+
+"Mr. Algernon Jones done it.  I spec' he's a robber an' is
+jes' a-robberin' right now," answered Billy.
+
+"I'll untie you," said his chum.
+
+"Naw; you better not," said Billy bravely.  "He might git
+away.  You leave me jes' like he fixed me so's you can try
+to ketch him.  I hear him in the dinin'-room now.  You leave
+me right here an' step over to yo' house an' 'phone to some
+mens to come and git him quick.  Shet the do' ag'in an' don't
+make no noise.  Fly, now!"
+
+And Jimmy did fly.  He again took the garden route and in a
+minute was at the telephone with the receiver at his ear.
+
+"Hello!  Is that you, Miss Central?  This is me," he howled
+into the transmitter.  "Gimme Miss Minerva's beau.  I don't
+know his number, but he's got a office over my papa's
+bank."
+
+His father being out of town, the little boy shrewdly decided
+that Miss Minerva's beau was the next best man to help capture
+the robber.
+
+"Miss Minerva what lives by me," he shrieked.
+
+Fortunately Central recognized his childish voice and was
+willing to humor him, so as she too knew Miss Minerva's
+beau.  the connection was quickly made.
+
+"Hello!  Is that you, Major?  This is me.  If you don't want
+Mr. Algernon Jones to be robbering everything Miss Minerva's
+got you better get a move on and come right this minute.
+You got to hustle and bring 'bout a million pistols and guns
+and swords and tomahawks and all the mans you can find and
+dogs.  He's the fiercest robber ever was, and he's already done
+tie Billy to a bath-room chair and done eat up 'bout a million
+cold biscuits, I spec'.  All of us is 'bout to be slewed.
+Good-bye."
+
+The plump, round gentleman at the other end of the wire heard
+this amazing message in the utmost confusion and consternation.
+He frantically rang the telephone again and again but could get no
+answer from the Garners' home so he put on his hat and walked the
+short distance to Miss Minerva's house.
+
+Jimmy was waiting to receive him at the front gate, having
+again eluded Sarah Jane's vigilance.
+
+"Hush!" he whispered mysteriously, "he's in the dining-room.
+Ain't you bringed nobody else?  Get your pistol and come on."
+
+Mr. Algernon Jones, feeling safe and secure for the next hour and
+having partaken of a light lunch, was in the act of transferring
+some silver spoons from the sideboard to his pockets when a noise
+at the dining-room door caused him to look in that direction.
+With an oath he sprang forward, and landed his fist upon the nose
+of a plump gentleman standing there, bringing a stream of blood
+and sending him sprawling to the floor.  Mr. Jones overturned a
+big-eyed little boy who was in his way and, walking rapidly in the
+direction of the railroad, the erstwhile plumber was seen no more.
+
+Jimmy quickly recovered himself and sprang to his feet.  Seeing
+the blood streaming down the white shirt front of Miss Minerva's
+unconscious beau, he gathered his wits together and took the
+thread of events again into his own little hands.  He flung
+himself over the fence, careless of Sarah Jane this time, mounted
+a chair and once more rang the telephone.
+
+"Hello!  Is that you, Miss Central?  This is me some more.
+Gimme Doctor Sanford's office, please."
+
+"Hello!  Is that you, Doctor?  This is me.  Mr. Algernon
+Jones done kilt Miss Minerva's beau.  He's on her back-porch
+bloody all over.  He's 'bout the deadest man they is.  You 'd
+better come toreckly you can and bring the hearse, and a
+coffin and a clean shirt and a tombstone.  He's wounded me
+but I ain't dead yet.  Good-bye."
+
+Doctor Sanford received Jimmy's crazy message in astonishment.
+He, too, rang the telephone again and again but could hear
+nothing more, so he walked down to Miss Minerva's house and
+rang the door-bell.  Jimmy opened the door and led the way to
+the back-porch, where the injured man, who had just recovered
+consciousness, was sitting limply in a chair.
+
+"What does all this mean?  Are you hurt?" asked the Doctor
+as he examined Mr. Jones's victim.
+
+"No, I think I'm all right now," was the reply; "but that
+scoundrel certainly gave me a severe blow."
+
+Billy, shut up in the bath-room and listening to all the
+noise and confusion, had been scared nearly out of his
+senses.  He had kept as still as a mouse till now, when,
+thinking he heard friendly voices he yelled out, "Open the
+do' an' untie me."
+
+"We done forgot Billy," said the little rescuer, as he ran
+to the bath-room door and opened it.  He was followed by the
+Doctor, who cut the cords that bound the prisoner.
+
+"Now, William," commanded Doctor Sanford as they grouped
+themselves around the stout, plump gentleman in the chair,
+"begin at the beginning, and let us get at the bottom of
+this affair."
+
+"Mr. Algernon Jones he come to the gate," explained the little
+boy, "an' he say he goin' to fix the water pipe an' he say he's
+a plumber.  He's a very 'greeable man, but I don't want Aunt
+Minerva to marry him, now.  I was plumb tickled at him an' I tuck
+him to the bath-room an' fust thing I knowed he grabbed holter
+me an' shuck me like what you see a cat do a mouse, an' he say--"
+
+"And he'd more 'n a million whiskers," interrupted Jimmy, who
+thought Billy was receiving too much attention, "and he--"
+
+"One at a time," said the Doctor.  "Proceed, William."
+
+"An' he say he'll bust my brains outer my head if I holler,
+an' I ain't a-goin' to holler neither, an' he tie me to a
+chair an' tie my mouth up an' lock the do'--"
+
+"And I comed over," said Jimmy eagerly, "and I run home and
+I see Mr. Algernon Jones is a robber and I 'phoned to Miss
+Minerva's beau, and if he'd brunged what I telled him, he
+wouldn't never got cracked in the face like Mr. Algernon
+Jones done crack him, and Billy got to all time let robbers
+in the house so they can knock mans and little boys down."
+
+"While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away,"
+said the injured man.
+
+"That is so," agreed Doctor Sanford, "so I'll go and find
+the Sheriff."
+
+Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway,
+and she grabbed Jimmy by the arm.
+
+"Yaas," she cried, "you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh
+'ceitful caterpillar.  Come on home dis minute."
+
+"Lemme go, Sarah Jane," protested the little boy, trying to
+jerk away from her, "I got to stay here and pertec' Billy and
+Miss Minerva's beau 'cause they's a robber might come back and
+tie 'em up and make 'em bleed if I ain't here."
+
+"Did Mr. Algernon Jones make all that blood?" asked an
+awe-stricken little boy gazing in admiration at the victim of
+Mr. Jones's energy.  "You sho' is a hero to stan' up an' let
+him knock you down like he done."
+
+"Yes," cried Jimmy, as the black woman dragged him kicking
+and struggling through the hall, "we's all heroes, but I
+bet I'm the heroest hero they is, and I bet Miss Minerva's
+going to be mad 'bout you all spilling all that blood on her
+nice clean floor."
+
+"Lemme see yo' big toe what was shot off by all them Yankees
+and Injuns what you killed in the war," said Billy to Miss
+Minerva's beau.
+
+The Major smiled at the little boy; a man-to-man smile, full
+of good comradeship, humor, and understanding.  Billy's
+little heart went out to him at once.
+
+"I can't take off my shoes at present," said the veteran.
+"Well, I must be going; I feel all right now."
+
+Billy looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
+
+"You couldn't never go 'thout yo' pants, could you?" he
+asked, "'cause Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises pants."
+
+The man eyed him quizzically.
+
+"Well, no; I don't think I could," he replied; "I don't
+think I'd look any better in a Mother Hubbard or a kimono."
+
+The little boy sighed.
+
+"Which you think is the fitteness name," asked he, "Billy or
+William."
+
+"Billy, Billy," enthusiastically came the reply.
+
+"I like mens," said William Green Hill, "I sho' wisht you
+could come and live right here with me and Aunt Minerva."
+
+"I wish so, too," said the Major.
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER XV
+
+                    BILLY, THE CREDULOUS
+
+
+After the advent and disappearance of the exciting Mr. Jones,
+Miss Minerva, much to Billy's joy, had a telephone put in the
+house.  He sat in the hall the day it was put in waiting for it
+to ring.
+
+Jimmy, coming up on the front porch and through the half-open
+door and seeing him sitting there, rang the door bell just for
+a joke, ready to burst into a laugh when the other little boy
+turned around and saw who it was.  Billy, however, in his
+eagerness mistook the ring for the telephone bell and joyfully
+climbed up on the chair, which he had stationed in readiness.
+He took down the receiver as he had seen Jimmy do in his home
+and, without once seeing that little boy standing a few feet
+from him, he yelled at the top of his lungs:
+
+"Hello!  Who is that?"
+
+"This is Marie Yarbrough," replied Jimmy from the doorway,
+instantly recognizing Billy's mistake.
+
+Marie Yarbrough was a little girl much admired by the two
+boys, as she had a pony and cart of her very own.  However,
+she lived in a different part of the town and attended
+another Sunday-School, so they had no speaking acquaintance
+with her.
+
+"I jus' wanted to talk to you," went on the counterfeit
+Marie, stifling a laugh and trying to talk like a girl.  "I
+think you're 'bout the sweetest little boy they is and I
+want you to come to my party."
+
+"I sho' will," screamed the gratified Billy, "if Aunt
+Minerva'll lemme.  What make you talk so much like Jimmy?"
+
+"Who?--that little old Jimmy Garner?  I hope I don't talk like
+that chicken, he's 'bout the measliest boy they is and I like
+you 'nother sight better 'n him.  you're a plumb jim-dandy,
+Billy," came from the doorway.
+
+"So's you," howled back the delighted and flattered Billy.
+
+Jimmy thought he would pop wide open in his efforts to keep
+from laughing.
+
+"How 'd you like to be my sweetheart?" he asked.
+
+"I's already promise' to marry Miss Cecilia when I puts on
+long pants, but if we ever gits a 'vorce I'd 'nother sight
+ruther have you 'n anybody.  You can be my ladyfrien',
+anyhow," was the loud reply.
+
+"I'm coming for you to go riding in my little pony and cart,"
+said a giggling Jimmy.
+
+"All right, I's going to ask Aunt Minerva to lemme go.  Can't
+we take Jimmy too?"
+
+This was too much for the little boy.  He had held himself in
+as long as possible.  He burst into a peal of laughter so
+merry and so loud that Billy, turning, quickly, almost fell
+out of the chair.
+
+"What you doin', a-listening to me talk to Marie Yarbrough
+th'oo the telephone?" he questioned angrily.
+
+"Marie your pig's foot," was the inelegant response.  "That
+was just me a-talking to you all the time.  You all time
+think you talking to little girls and all time 'tain't
+nobody but me."
+
+A light dawned upon the innocent one.  He promptly hung up
+the receiver and got down out of the chair.  Before Jimmy was
+fully aware of his intention, Billy had thrown him to the floor
+and was giving him a good pommeling.
+
+"Say you got 'nough?" he growled from ibis position astride of
+the other boy.
+
+"I got 'nough, Billy," repeated Jimmy.
+
+"Say you sorry you done it."
+
+"I say I sorry I done it," abjectly repeated the younger child.
+"Get up, Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open."
+
+"Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart,"
+was the next command.
+
+"I say I ain't never going to tell nobody, cross my heart.  Get
+up, Billy, 'fore you make me mad, and ain't no telling what
+I'll do to you if I get mad."
+
+"Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk."
+
+"I ain't going to say I'm nothing of the kind," spiritedly
+replied the under-dog.  "You all time wanting somebody to call
+theirselfs someping.  You're a low-down Isabella skunk yourself."
+
+"You got to say it," insisted the victor,  renewing hostilities.
+
+"I'll say I'm a Isabella 'cause Isabella  discovered America
+and's in the Bible," replied the tormented one; "Miss Cecilia
+'splained it to me."
+
+Billy accepted his compromise and Jimmy's flattened stomach,
+relieved of its burden, puffed out to its usual roundness as that
+little boy rose to his feet, saying:
+
+"Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you
+telephoning."
+
+"He 'd better never hear tell of it," was the threatening
+rejoinder.
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XVI
+
+                    THE HUMBLE PETITION
+
+
+Billy, sitting in an old buggy in front of the livery stable, had
+just engaged in a long and interesting conversation with Sam Lamb.
+
+He was getting out of the vehicle when the sharp wire around a
+broken rod caught in the back of his trousers and tore a great
+hole.  He felt a tingling pain and looked over his shoulder to
+investigate.  Not being satisfied with the result, he turned his
+back to the negro and anxiously enquired, "Is my breeches tore,
+Sam?"
+
+"Dey am dat," was the reply, "dey am busted Fm Dan ter
+Beersheba."
+
+"What I goin' to do 'bout it?" asked the little boy, "Aunt
+Minerva sho' will be mad.  These here's branspankin' new
+trousers what I ain't never wore tell today.  Ain't you got a
+needle an' thread so's you can fix 'em.  Sam?"
+
+"Nary er needle," said Sam Lamb.
+
+"Is my union suit tore, too?" and Billy again turned his
+back for inspection.
+
+His friend made a close examination.
+
+"Yo' unions is injured plum scanerous," was his discouraging
+decision, "and hit 'pears ter me dat yo' hide done suffer
+too; you's got er turrible scratch."
+
+The child sighed.  The injury to the flesh was of small
+importance,--he could hide that from his aunt--but the rent
+in his trousers was a serious matter.
+
+"I wish I could git 'em mended 'fore I goes home," he said
+wistfully.
+
+"I tell you what do," suggested Sam, "I 'low Miss Cecilia'll
+holp yeh; jest go by her house an' she'll darn 'em up fer
+yuh."
+
+Billy hesitated.
+
+"Well, you see, Sam, me an' Miss Cecilia's engaged an' we's
+fixin' to marry jes''s soon's I puts on long pants, an' I
+'shame' to ask her.  An' I don't berlieve young 'omans
+patches the breeches of young mans what they's goin' to
+marry nohow.  Do you?  Aunt Minerva ain' never patched no
+breeches for the Major.  And then," with a modest blush, "my
+unions is tore too, an' I ain't got on nothin' else to hide
+my skin."
+
+Again he turned his back to his friend and, his clouded
+little face looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Do my meat
+show, Sam?"
+
+"She am visible ter the naked eye," and Sam Lamb laughed
+loudly at his own wit.
+
+"I don't believe God pays me much attention nohow," said the
+little boy dolefully; "ev'y day I gets put to bed 'cause sumpin's
+all time a-happenin'.  If He'd had a eye on me like He oughter
+they wouldn't a been no snaggin'.  Aunt Minerva's goin' to be mad
+th'oo an' th'oo."
+
+"May be my of 'oman can fix 'em, so's dey won't be so turrible
+bad," suggested the negro, "'taint fer, so you jes' run down ter
+my cabin an' tell Sukey I say fix dem breeches."
+
+The child needed no second bidding,--he fairly flew.  Sam's
+wife was cooking, but she cheerfully stopped her work to help
+the little boy.  She sewed up his union suit and put a bright
+blue patch on his brown linen breeches.
+
+Billy felt a little more cheerful, though he still dreaded
+confessing to his aunt and he loitered along the way till it
+was nearly dark.  Supper was ready when he got home and he
+walked into the diningroom with his customary ease and
+grace.  But he took his seat uneasily, and he was so quiet
+during the meal and ate so little that his aunt asked him if
+he were sick.  He was planning in his mind how to break the
+news of the day's disaster to her.
+
+"You are improving, William," she remarked presently, "you
+haven't got into any mischief to-day.  You have been a mighty
+good little boy now for two days."
+
+Billy flushed at the compliment and shifted uneasily in
+his seat.  That patch seemed to burn him.
+
+"If God'd jest do His part," he said darkly, "I wouldn't
+never git in no meanness."
+
+After supper Miss Minerva washed the dishes in the kitchen
+sink and Billy carried them back to the dining-room.  His
+aunt caught him several times prancing sideways in the most
+idiotic manner.  He was making a valiant effort to keep from
+exposing his rear elevation to her; once he had to walk
+backward.
+
+"William," she said sharply, "you will break my plates.
+What is the matter with you to-night?"
+
+A little later they were sitting quietly in Miss Minerva's
+room.  She was reading "The Christian at Home," and he was
+absently looking at a picture book.
+
+"Sam Lamb's wife Sukey sho' is a beautiful patcher," he
+remarked, feeling his way.
+
+She made no answering comment, and the discouraged little
+boy was silent for a few minutes.  He had worn Aunt Cindy's
+many-colored patches too often to be ashamed of this one for
+himself, but he felt that he would like to draw his aunt out
+and find how she stood on the subject of patches.
+
+"Aunt Minerva," he presently asked, "what sorter patches
+'d you ruther wear on yo' pants, blue patches or brown?"
+
+"On my what?" she asked, looking at him severely over her
+paper.
+
+"I mean if you's me," he hastily explained.  "Don't you
+think blue patches is the mos' nat'ral lookin'?"
+
+"What are you driving at, William?" she asked; but without
+waiting for his answer she went on with her reading.
+
+The child was silent for a long time, his little mind busy,
+then he began, "Aunt Minerva?"
+
+She peered at him over her glasses a second, then dropped
+her eyes to the paper where an interesting article on
+Foreign Missions held her attention.
+
+"Aunt Minerva, I snagged--Aunt Minerva, I snagged my--my
+skin, to-day."
+
+"Let me see the place," she said absently, her eyes glued to
+a paragraph describing a cannibal feast.
+
+"I's a-settin' on it right now," he replied.
+
+Another long silence ensued.  Billy resolved to settle the
+matter.
+
+"I's gettin' sleepy," he yawned.  "Aunt Minerva, I wants to
+say my prayers and go to bed."
+
+She laid her paper down and he dropped to his knees by her
+side.  He usually sprawled all over her lap during his
+lengthy devotions, but to-night he clasped his little hands
+and reared back like a rabbit on its haunches.
+
+After he had rapidly repeated the Lord's prayer, which he
+had recently learned, and had invoked blessings on all his
+new friends and never-to-be-forgotten old ones, he concluded
+with:
+
+"An', O Lord, You done kep' me f'om meddlin' with Aunt Minerva's
+hose any mo', an' you done kep' me f'om gittin' any mo' Easter
+eggs, an' playin' any mo' Injun, an' You done kep' me f'om
+lettin' Mr. Algernon Jones come ag'in, an' now, O Lord, please
+don't lemme worry the very 'zistence outer Aunt Minerva any
+mo' 'n You can help, like she said I done this mornin,' an'
+please, if Thy will be done, don't lemme tear the next new
+breeches what she'll gimme like I done ruint thesehere what I
+got on."
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XVII
+
+                     A GREEN-EYED BILLY
+
+
+Have some candy?" said Miss Cecilia, offering a big box of
+bonbons to Billy, who was visiting her.
+
+"Where 'd you git 'em?" he asked, as he helped himself
+generously.
+
+"Maurice sent them to me this morning."
+
+Billy put all his candy back into the box.
+
+"I don't believe I wants noner yo' candy," he said, scowling
+darkly.  "I reckon you likes him better 'n me anyhow, don't
+you?"
+
+"I love you dearly," she replied.
+
+The child stood in front of her and looked her squarely in
+the eye.  His little form was drawn to its full, proud height,
+his soft, fair cheeks were flushed, his big, beautiful, grey
+eyes looked somber and sad.
+
+"Is you in love with that red-headed Maurice Richmond an'
+jes' a-foolin' o' me?" he asked with dignity.
+
+A bright flush dyed crimson the young lady's pretty face.
+
+She put her arm around the childish, graceful figure and
+drew the little boy to the sofa beside her.
+
+"Now, honey, you mustn't be silly," she said gently, "you
+are my own, dear, little sweetheart."
+
+"An' I reckon he's yo' own, dear, big sweetheart," said the
+jealous Billy.  "Well, all I got to say is thishere; if he's
+a-goin' to come to see you ev'y day then I ain't never
+comin' no mo'.  He's been acarryin' on his foolishness 'bout
+'s long as I can stand it.  You got to chose 'tween us right
+this minute; he come down here mos' ev'y day, he's tuck you
+drivin' more'n fifty hundred times, an' he's give you all
+the candy you can stuff."
+
+"He is not the only one who comes to see me," she said smiling
+down at him.  "Jimmy comes often and Len Hamner and Will Reid.
+Don't you want them to come?"
+
+"Don't nobody pay no 'tention to Jimmy," he replied
+contemptuously; "he ain't nothin' but a baby, an' them other
+mens can come if you wants 'em to; but," said Billy, with a
+lover's unerring intuition, "I ain't a-goin' to stand fer that
+long-legged, sorrel-top Maurice Richmond a-trottin' his great
+big carkiss down here ev'y minute.  I wish Aunt Minerva 'd let
+me put on long pants to-morrer so 's we could git married."
+He caught sight of a new ring sparkling on her finger.
+
+"Who give you that ring?" he asked sharply.
+
+"A little bird brought it to me," she said, trying to speak
+gayly, and blushing again.
+
+"A big, red-headed peckerwood," said Billy savagely.
+
+"Maurice loves you, too,"--she hoped to conciliate him; "he
+says you are the brightest kid in town."
+
+"Kid," was the scornful echo, "'cause he's so big and tall,
+he's got to call me a kid.  Well, he'd jes' awasting' hi'self
+lovin' me; I don't like him an' I ain't agoin' to never like him
+an' soon's I puts on long pants he's goin' to get 'bout the
+worses' lickin' he ever did see.
+
+"Say, does you kiss him like you does me?" he asked presently,
+looking up at her with serious, unsmiling face.
+
+She hid her embarrassment in a laugh.
+
+"Don't be foolish, Billy," she replied.
+
+"I'll bet he's kissed you more 'n fifty hunderd times."
+
+"There's Jimmy whistling for you," said Miss Cecilia.  "How
+do you two boys make that peculiar whistle?  I would
+recognize it anywhere."
+
+"Is he ever kiss you yet?" asked the child.
+
+"I heard that you and Jimmy whipped Ed Brown because he
+imitated your own particular whistle.  Did you?"
+
+"How many times is he kiss you?" asked Billy.
+
+The young girl put her arm around him and tried to nestle
+his little body against her own.
+
+"I'm too big, anyway, for your real sweetheart," she said.
+"Why, by the time you are large enough to marry I should be
+an old maid.  You must have Frances or Lina for your
+sweetheart."
+
+"An' let you have Maurice!" he sneered.
+
+She stooped to lay her flushed cheek against his own.
+
+"Honey," she softly said, "Maurice and I are going to be
+married soon; I love him very much and I want you to love
+him too."
+
+He pushed her roughly from him.
+
+"An' you jes' 'ceived me all the time," he cried, "an' me
+a-lovin' you better 'n anybody I ever see sence I's born?  An'
+you a Sunday-School teacher?  I ain't never a-goin' to trus'
+nobody no mo'.  Good-bye, Miss Cecilia."
+
+She caught his hand and held it fast; "I want you and Jimmy
+to be my little pages at the wedding, and wear dear little
+white satin suits all trimmed with gold braid," she tried to
+be enthusiastic and arouse his interest; "and Lina and Frances
+can be little flower-girls and we'll have such a beautiful
+wedding."
+
+"Jimmy an' Lina an' Frances can be all the pages an' flower-girls
+an' brides an' grooms they wants to, but you can't rope me in,"
+he scornfully replied.  "I's done with you an' I ain't never
+goin' to have me no mo' sweetheart long's I live."
+
+
+
+
+                       CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                   CLOSER THAN A BROTHER
+
+
+It was a bad, rainy day.  Jimmy and Billy were playing in
+Sarah Jane's cabin, she, however, being in happy ignorance
+of the fact.  Her large stays, worn to the preaching the
+night before, were hanging on the back of a chair.
+"Ain't I glad I don' have to wear no corset when I puts on
+long pants?" remarked Billy, pointing to the article.  "Ain't
+that a big one?  It's twice's big's Aunt Minerva's."
+
+"My mama wears a big co'set, too," said Jimmy; "I like fat
+womans 'nother sight better 'n lean ones.  Miss Minerva's
+'bout the skinniest woman they is; when I get married I'm
+going to pick me out the fattest wife I can find, so when
+you set in her lap at night for her to rock you to sleep
+you'll have a soft place to put your head, while she sings to
+you."
+
+"The Major--he's mos' plump enough for two," said Billy,
+taking down the stays and trying to hook them around him.
+
+"It sho' is big," he said; "I berlieve it's big 'nough to
+go 'round both of us."
+
+"Le's see if 'tain't," was the other boy's ready suggestion.
+
+He stood behind Billy and they put the stays around both little
+bodies, while, with much squeezing and giggling, Billy hooked
+them safely up the front.  The boys got in front of Sarah Jane's
+one looking-glass and danced about laughing with glee.
+
+"We're like the twinses what was growed together like mama
+read me 'bout," declared the younger child.
+
+Presently they began to feel uncomfortable, especially
+Jimmy, whose fat, round little middle was tightly
+compressed.
+
+"Here, unhook this thing, Billy, and le's take her off," he
+said.  "I'm 'bout to pop open."
+
+"All right," agreed his companion.
+
+He tugged and pulled, but could get only the top and bottom
+hooks unclasped; the middle ones refused to budge.
+
+"I can't get these-here hooks to come loose," Billy said.
+
+Jimmy put his short, fat arms around him and tried his hand,
+but with no better success.  The stays were such a snug fit
+that the hooks seemed glued.
+
+"We sho' is in a fix," said Billy gloomily; "look like God
+all time lettin' us git in trouble."
+
+"You think of more fool stunts to do, William Hill, than any
+boy they is," cried the other; "you all time want to get us
+hooked up in Sarah Jane's corset and you all time can't get
+nobody loose.  What you want to get us hooked up in this
+thing for?"
+
+"You done it yo'self," defended the boy in front with rising
+passion.  "Squeeze in, Jimmy; we jes' boun' to git outer this
+'fore somebody finds it out."
+
+He backed the other child close to the wall and pressed so
+hard against him that Jimmy screamed aloud and began to
+pound him on the head with his chubby fists.
+
+Billy would not submit tamely to any such treatment.  He
+reached his hand behind him and gave the smaller boy's cheek
+a merciless pinch.  The fight was on.  The two little boys,
+laced up tightly as they were in a stout pair of stays,
+pinched and scratched, and kicked and jerked.  Suddenly
+Billy, leaning heavily against Jimmy, threw him flat on his
+back and fell on top of him.
+
+Bennie Dick, sitting on the floor, had up to this time
+watched the proceedings with an interested eye; now, thinking
+murder was being committed, he opened his big, red mouth and
+emitted a howl that could be heard half a mile.  It immediately
+brought his mother to the open door.  When she saw the children
+squirming on the floor in her only corset, her indignation
+knew no bounds.
+
+"You, Jimmy Garner, an' you, too, William Hill, yuh little
+imps o' Satan, what you doin' in my house? didn't yo' mammy
+tell you not to tamper wid me no mo'?  Git up an' come here an'
+lemme git my co'set off o' yuh."
+
+Angry as she was she could not keep from laughing at the
+sight they presented, as, with no gentle hand, she unclasped
+the hooks and released their imprisoned bodies.
+
+"Billy all time--" began Jimmy.
+
+"Billy all time nothin," said Sarah Jane, "'tain't no use
+fo' to try to lay dis-here co'set business onto Billy; both
+o' yuh is ekally in it.  An' me a-aimin' fo' to go to three
+fun'els dis week an' a baptizin' on Sunday.  S'pose y' all'd
+bruck one o' de splints, how'd I look a-presidin' at a
+fun'el 'thout nare co'set on, an' me shape' like what I is?"
+
+"Who's dead, Sarah Jane?" asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the
+torrent of her wrath.
+
+"Sis' Mary Ellen's las' husban', Brudder Littlejohn--dat 's
+a-who," she replied, somewhat mollified at his interest.
+
+"When did he die?"--Jimmy pursued his advantage.
+
+"He got 'way f'om here 'bout moon-down las' night," she replied,
+losing sight of her grievance in his flattering interrogations.
+"You know Sis' Littlejohn, she been married goin' on five times.
+Dis-here'll make fo' gentlemans she done buriet an' dey ain't
+nobody can manage a fun'el like she kin; 'pears like hit jes'
+come natchel to her.  She sho' is done a good part by eb'ry
+single husban' too, an' she's figgerin' to outdo all the yuthers
+wid Brudder Littlejohn's co'pse."  Sarah Jane almost forgot her
+little audience in her intense absorption of her subject.
+"She say to me dis mornin', she say, `Marri'ge am a lott'ry, Sis
+Beddinfiel', but I sho' is drawed some han'some prizes.  'She
+got 'em all laid out side by side in de buryin' groun' wid er
+little imige on ebry grabe; an.  'Sis Mary Ellen, seein' as she
+can't read de writin' on de tombstones, she got a diff'unt little
+animal asettin' on eb'ry head res' so's she kin tell which
+husban' am which.  Her fus' husban' were all time ahuntin',
+so she got a little white marble pa'tridge arestin' on he' head,
+an' hit am a mighty consolement to a po' widda 'oman fo' to know
+dat she can tell de very minute her eyes light on er grabe which
+husban' hit am.  Her secon' man he got er mighty kinky, woolly head
+an' he mighty meek, so she got a little white lamb a-settin' on he
+grabe; an' de nex husban' he didn't have nothin' much fo' to
+disgueese him f'om de res' 'cep'in' he so slow an' she might nigh
+rack her brain off, twell she happen to think 'bout him bein' a
+Hardshell Baptis' an' so powerful slow, so she jest got a little
+tarrapim an' sot it on him.  Hit sho' am a pretty sight jes' to go
+in dat buryin' groun' an' look at 'em all, side by side; an' now
+she got Brudder Littlejohn to add to de res'.  He de onliest one
+what's got er patch o' whiskers so she gwine to put a little white
+cat on he' grabe.  Yes, Lord, ef anythink could pearten' a widda
+'oman hit would be jes' to know dat yuh could go to de grabeyard
+any time yuh want to an' look at dat han'some c'llection an' tell
+'zactly which am which."
+
+Sarah Jane stopped for breath and Billy hastened to inquire,
+
+"Who else is dead, Sarah Jane?"
+
+"'Tain't nobody else dead, yit, as I knows on, but my two
+cousins is turrible low; one's got a hemrage on de lung an'
+de yuther's got a congestin' on de brain, an' I 'lows dey'll
+bofe drap off 'twix' now an' sun-up to-morra.  "Her eyes
+rolled around and happened to light on her corset.  She at
+once returned to her grievance.
+
+"An' sposin' I hadn't 'av' came in here when I did?  I'd 'a'
+had to went to my own cousins' fun'el 'thout nare co'set.  Y'
+all gotta go right to y' all's mamas an' Miss Minerva dis very
+minute.  I low dey'll settle yo' hashes.  Don't y' all know
+dat Larroes ketch meddlers?"
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XIX
+
+                     TWINS AND A SISSY
+
+
+Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Black were sitting on Miss Minerva's
+veranda talking to her, and Lira and Frances were in the swing
+with Billy.
+
+The attraction proved too great for Jimmy; he impolitely left
+a disconsolate little visitor sitting on his own porch while he
+jumped the fence and joined the other children.
+
+"Don't you all wish you could see Mrs. Brown's new twinses?" was
+his greeting as he took his seat by Billy.
+
+"Where'd she get 'em?" asked Frances.
+
+"Doctor Sanford tooken 'em to her last night."
+
+"He muster found 'em in a holler stump," remarked Billy.  "I
+knows, 'cause that's where Doctor Shacklefoot finds aller of Aunt
+Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's, an' me an' Wilkes Booth
+Lincoln been lookin' in evy holler stump we see ever sence we's
+born, an' we ain't never foun' no baby 't all, 'cause can't
+nobody but jes' doctors fin' 'em.  I wish he'd a-give 'em to
+Aunt Minerva 'stidder Mrs. Brown."
+
+"I wish he'd bringed 'em to my mama," said Frances.
+
+"I certainly do think he might have given them to us," declared
+Lina, "and I'm going to tell him so, too.  As much money as
+father has paid him for doctor's bills and as much old, mean
+medicine as I have taken just to 'commodate him; then he gives
+babies to everybody but us."
+
+"I'm awful glad he never give 'em to my mama," said Jimmy, "'cause
+I never could had no more fun; they'd be stuck right under my nose
+all time, and all time put their mouth in everything you want to
+do, and all time meddling. You can't fool me 'bout twinses. But I
+wish I could see 'em! They so weakly they got to be hatched in a
+nincubator."
+
+"What's that?" questioned Frances.
+
+"That's a someping what you hatches chickens and babies in
+when they's delicate, and ain't got 'nough breath and ain't
+got they eyes open and ain't got no feathers on," explained
+Jimmy.
+
+"Reckon we can see 'em?" she asked.
+
+"See nothing!" sniffed the little boy.  "Ever sence Billy let
+Mr. Algernon Jones whack Miss Minerva's beau we can't do
+nothing at all 'thout grown folks 'r' stuck right under your
+nose.  I'm jes' cramped to death."
+
+"When I'm a mama," mused Frances, "I hope Doctor Sanford'll bring
+me three little twinses, and two Maltese kittens, and a little
+Japanee, and a monkey, and a parrit."
+
+"When I'm a papa," said Jimmy, "I don' want no babies at all, all
+they's good for is jus' to set 'round and yell."
+
+"Look like God 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies,"
+remarked Billy.
+
+"Why, God don' have none 'a the trouble," explained Jimmy.  "He's
+just got Him a baby factory in Heaven like the chair factory and
+the canning factory down by the railroad, and angels jus' all
+time make they arms and legs, like niggers do at the chair
+factory, and all God got to do is jus' glue 'em together, and
+stick in their souls.  God's got 'bout the easiest job they is."
+
+"I thought angels jes' clam' the golden stair and play they
+harps," said Billy.
+
+"Ain't we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia's wedding," said
+Frances, after a short silence.
+
+"I'll betcher I'll be the cutest kid in that church," boasted
+Jimmy conceitedly.  "You coming, ain't you, Billy?"
+
+"I gotter go," answered that jilted swain, gloomily, "Aunt
+Minerva ain't got nobody to leave me with at home.  I jes'
+wish she'd git married."
+
+"Why wouldn't you be a page, Billy?" asked Lina.
+
+"'Cause I didn't hafto," was the snappish reply.
+
+"I bet my mama give her the finest present they is," bragged
+the smaller boy; "I reckon it cost 'bout a million dollars."
+
+"Mother gave her a handsome cut-glass vase," said Lina.
+
+"It looks like Doctor Sanford would've give Miss Cecilia
+those twinses for a wedding present," said Frances.
+
+"Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?" asked
+Lina, noticing for the first time a lonely-looking child.
+
+"That's Leon Tipton, Aunt Ella's little boy.  He just come
+out from Memphis to spend the day with me and I'll be awful
+glad when he goes home; he's 'bout the stuck-up-est kid they
+is, and skeery?  He's 'bout the 'fraidest young un ever you see.
+And look at him now?  Wears long curls like a girl and don't
+want to never get his clean clo'es dirty."
+
+"I think he's a beautiful little boy," championed Lina.  "Call
+him over here, Jimmy."
+
+"Naw, I don't want to.  You all'll like him a heap better
+over there; he's one o' these-here kids what the furder you
+get 'way from 'em, the better you like 'em."
+
+"He sho' do look lonesome," said Billy; "'vite him over,
+Jimmy."
+
+"Leon!" screamed his cousin, "you can come over here if you
+wantta."
+
+The lonesome-looking little boy promptly accepted the invitation,
+and came primly through the two gates.  He walked proudly to the
+swing and stood, cap in hand, waiting for an introduction.
+
+"Why didn't you clam' the fence, 'stead of coming th'oo the
+gates?" growled Jimmy.  "You 'bout the prissiest boy they is.
+Well, why don't you set down?"
+
+"Introduce me, please," said the elegant little city boy.
+
+"Interduce your grandma's pussy cats," mocked Jimmy.  "Set
+down, I tell you."
+
+Frances and Lina made room for him between them and soon
+gave him their undivided attention, to the intense envy and
+disgust of the other two little boys.
+
+"I am Lina Hamilton," said the little girl on his right.
+
+"And I'm Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to
+treat you like he does."
+
+"I knows a turrible skeery tale," remarked a malicious
+Billy, looking at Lina and Frances.  "If y' all wa'n't girls
+I 'd tell it to you."
+
+"We aren't any more scared 'n you, William Hill," cried
+Frances, her interest at once aroused; "I already know 'bout
+`raw meat and bloody bones' and nothing's scarier 'n that."
+
+"And I know `Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an
+Englishman.  Be he alive or be he dead, I'll ground his bones
+to make me bread,"' said Lina.
+
+"This-here tale," continued Billy, glueing his big eyes to those
+of the little stranger, "is one Tabernicle learnt fer a speech
+at school.  It's all 'bout a 'oman what was buriet in a graveyard
+with a diamant ring on her finger, an' a robber come in the
+night--"
+
+The child's tones were guttural, thrilling, and hair-raising as
+he glared into the eyes of the effeminate Leon, "an' a robber come
+in the night an' try to cut it off, an' ha'nts was groanin' an' the
+win' moan 'oo-oo' an--"
+
+Leon could stand it no longer.
+
+"I am going right back," he cried rising with round, frightened
+eyes, "I am not going to sit here and listen to you, scaring
+little girls to death.  You are a bad boy to scare Lina and Frances
+and I am not going to associate with you;" and this champion of
+the fair sex stalked with dignity across the yard to the gate.
+
+"I'm no more scared 'n nothing," and indignant Frances hurled at
+his back.  "you're just scared yourself."
+
+Jimmy giggled happily.  "What'd I tell you all," he cried,
+gleefully.  "Lina and Frances got to all time set little 'fraid
+cats 'tween 'em," he snorted.  "It's just like I tell you, he's
+the sissyest boy they is; and he don't care who kiss him neither;
+he'll let any woman kiss him what wants to.  Can't no woman at
+all 'cepting my mama and Miss Cecilia kiss me.  But Leon is 'bout
+the kissingest kid they is; why, he'd just as soon's not let
+Frances and Lina kiss him; he ain't got no better sense.  'Course
+I gotta let Miss Cecilia kiss me 'cause she's 'bout the plumpest
+Sunday-School teacher they is and the Bible say `If your
+Sunday-School teacher kiss you on one cheek turn the other cheek
+and let her kiss you on that, too,' and I all time bound to do
+what the Bible say.  You 'd better call him back, Frances, and
+kiss him, you and Lina 're so stuck on him."
+
+"I wouldn't kiss him to save his life," declared Frances;
+"he's got the spindliest legs I ever saw."
+
+
+
+
+                         CHAPTER XX
+
+                    RISING IN THE WORLD
+
+
+The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of
+paint upon the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva's long back-porch.
+And he left his ladder leaning against the house while he went
+inside to confer with her in regard to some other work.
+
+Billy, Jimmy, Frances, and Lina had been playing "Fox and
+Geese."  Running around the house they spied the ladder and
+saw no owner to deny them.
+
+'Le's clam' up and get on top the porch," suggested Jimmy.
+
+"Aunt Minerva'll put me to bed if I do," said Billy.
+
+"Mother'll make me learn a whole page of the catechism if
+I climb a ladder," said Lina.
+
+"My mama'll shut me up in the closet, but our mamas aren't
+bound to know 'bout it,"--this from Frances.  "Come on,
+let's climb up."
+
+"I ain't neverpromise not to clam' no ladder but--" Billy
+hesitated.
+
+"You-all 'bout the skeeriest folks they is," sneered Jimmy.
+"Mama'll whip me going and coming if she finds out 'bout it,
+but I ain't skeered.  I dare anybody to dare me to clam' up."
+
+"I dare you to climb this ladder," responded an accommodating
+Frances.
+
+"I ain't never tooken a dare yet," boasted the little boy
+proudly, his foot on the bottom rung.  "Who's going to foller
+me?"
+
+"Don't we have fun?" cried a jubilant Frances.
+
+"Yes," answered Jimmy; "if grown folks don't all time be
+watching you and sticking theirselfs in your way."
+
+"If people would let us alone," remarked Lina, "we could
+enjoy ourselves every day."
+
+"But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time,"
+cried Jimmy, "they don't never want us to play together."
+
+He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy;
+and Lina brought up the rear.  The children ran the long length
+of the porch leaving their footprints on the fresh, sticky
+paint.
+
+"Will it wash off?" asked Frances, looking gloomily down at
+her feet, which seemed to be encased in green moccasins.
+
+At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the
+roof.  When the others helped her to her feet, she was a
+sight to behold, her white dress splotched with vivid green
+from top to bottom.
+
+"If that ain't jus' like you, Frances," Jimmy exclaimed;
+"you all time got to fall down and get paint on your dress
+so we can't 'ceive nobody.  Now our mamas bound to know 'bout
+us clamming up here."
+
+"They would know it anyhow," mourned Lina; "we'll never get
+this paint off of our feet.  We had better get right down and
+see if we can't wash some of it off."
+
+While they were talking the owner of the ladder, who had not
+noticed them--and was deaf in the bargain--had quietly removed
+it from the back-porch and carried it around to the front of
+the house.
+
+The children looked at each other in consternation when they
+perceived their loss.
+
+"What we goin' to do now?" asked Billy.
+
+"If this ain't just like Billy, all time got to perpose to clam'
+a ladder and all time got to let the ladder get loose from him,"
+growled Jimmy.  "We done cooked a goose egg, this time.  You got
+us up here, Billy, how you going to get us down?"
+
+"I didn't, neither."
+
+"Well, it's Miss Minerva's house and she's your aunt and we's
+your company and you got to be 'sponsible."
+
+"I can clam' down this-here post," said the responsible party.
+
+"I can climb down it, too," seconded Frances.
+
+"You can't clam' down nothing at all," said Jimmy contemptuously.
+"Talk 'bout you can clam' down a post; you'd fall and bust
+yourself wide open; you 'bout the clumsiest girl there is;
+'sides, your legs 're too fat."
+
+"We can holla," was Lina's suggestion.
+
+"And have grown folks laughing fit to pop their sides open?  I'm
+'shame' to go anywheres now 'cause folks all time telling me
+when I'm going to dye some more Easter eggs!  Naw, we better not
+holler," said Jimmy.  "Ain't you going to do nothing, Billy?"
+
+"I'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to
+bring his ladder back.  Y' all wait up here."
+
+Billy's solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they
+were soon released from their elevated prison.
+
+"I might as well go home and be learning the catechism," groaned
+Lina.
+
+"I'm going to get right in the closet soon's I get to my house,"
+said Frances.
+
+"Go on and put on your night-shirt, Billy."  Billy took himself
+to the bath-room and scrubbed and scrubbed; but the paint refused
+to come off.  He tiptoed by the kitchen where his aunt was
+cooking dinner and ran into his own room.
+
+He found the shoes and stockings which were reserved for Sunday
+wear, and soon had them upon his little feet.
+
+Miss Minerva rang the dinner-bell and he walked quietly into the
+dining-room trying to make as little noise and to attract as
+little attention from his aunt as possible; but she fastened her
+eyes at once upon his feet.
+
+"What are you doing with your shoes on, William?" she asked.
+
+Billy glanced nonchalantly at her.
+
+"Don't you think, Aunt Minerva," he made answer, "I's gittin' too
+big to go 'thout any shoes?  I's mos' ready to put on long pants,
+an' how'd I look, I'd jest like to know, goin' roun' barefooted
+an' got on long breeches.  I don' believe I'll go barefooted no
+mo'--I'll jest wear my shoes ev'y day."
+
+"I just believe you won't.  Go take them off at once and hurry
+back to your dinner."
+
+"Lemme jest wait tell I eats," he begged, hoping to postpone the
+evil hour of exposure.
+
+"No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands."
+
+Miss Minerva spied the paint the instant he made his second
+entrance and immediately inquired, "How did you get that paint
+on your feet?"
+
+The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at
+her with his sweet, attractive, winning smile.
+
+"Paint pertec's little boys' feets," he said, "an' keeps 'em
+f'om gittin' hurted, Aunt Minerva, don't it?"
+
+Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her
+undivided attention.
+
+"You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William;
+now tell me all about it.  Are you afraid of me?"
+
+"Yas 'm," was his prompt response, "an' I don't want to be put
+to bed neither.  The Major he wouldn't put little boys to bed
+day times."
+
+She blushed and eyed him thoughtfully.  She was making slow
+progress with the child, she knew, yet she still felt it her
+stern duty to be very strict with him and, having laid down
+certain rules to rear him by, she wished to adhere to them.
+
+"William," she said after he had made a full confession, "I won't
+punish you this time for I know that Jimmy led you into it but--"
+
+"Naw'm, Jimmy didn't.  Me an' him an' Frances an' Lina's all
+'sponsible, but I promise you, Aunt Minerva, not to clam' no mo'
+ladders."
+
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XXI
+
+                     PRETENDING REALITY
+
+
+The chain-gang had been working in the street not far from Miss
+Minerva's house, and Lina, Frances, Billy and Jimmy had hung on
+her front fence for an hour, watching them with eager interest.
+The negroes were chained together in pairs, and guarded by two,
+big, burly white men.
+
+"Let's us play chain-gang," suggested Jimmy.
+
+"Where we goin' to git a chain?" queried Billy; "'t won't be
+no fun 'thout a lock an' chain."
+
+"I can get the lock and chain off 'm Sarah Jane's cabin."
+
+"Yo' mama don't 'low you to go to her cabin," said Billy.
+
+"My mama don't care if I just borra a lock and chain; so I 'm
+going to get it."
+
+"I'm going to be the perlice of the gang," said Frances.
+
+"Perlice nothing.  You all time talking 'bout you going to be
+the perlice," scoffed Jimmy.  "I'm going to be the perlice
+myself."
+
+"No, you are not," interposed Lina, firmly.  "Billy and I are the
+tallest and we are going to be the guards, and you and Frances
+must be the prisoners."
+
+"Well, I ain't going to play 'thout I can be the boss of the
+niggers.  It's Sarah Jane's chain and she's my mama's cook, and
+I'm going to be what I please."
+
+"I'll tell you what do," was Billy's suggestion, "we'll take it
+turn about; me an' Lina'll firs' be the perlice an' y' all be the
+chain-gang, an' then we'll be the niggers an' y' all be the
+bosses."
+
+This arrangement was satisfactory, so the younger boy climbed the
+fence and soon returned with a short chain and padlock.
+
+Billy chained Jimmy and Frances together by two round, fat
+ankles and put the key to the lock in his pocket.
+
+"We must decide what crimes they have committed," said Lina.
+
+"Frances done got 'rested fer shootin' craps an' Jimmy done
+got 'rested fer 'sturbin' public worship," said the other boss.
+
+"Naw, I ain't neither," objected the male member of the
+chain-gang, "I done cut my woman with a razor 'cause I see her
+racking down the street like a proud coon with another gent, like
+what Sarah Jane's brother telled me he done at the picnic."
+
+The children played happily together for half an hour, Billy
+and Lina commanding, and the prisoners, entering thoroughly
+into the spirit of the game, according prompt obedience to
+their bosses.  At last the captives wearied of their role and
+clamored for an exchange of parts.
+
+"All right," agreed Lina.  "Get the key, Billy, and we'll be
+the chain-gang."
+
+Billy put his right hand in his pocket but found no key there;
+he tried the other pocket with the same success; he felt in his
+blouse, he looked in his cap, he jumped up and down, he nearly
+shook himself to pieces all without avail; the key had
+disappeared as if by magic.
+
+"I berlieve y' all done los' that key," concluded he.
+
+"Maybe it dropped on the ground," said Frances.
+
+They searched the yard over, but the key was not to be found.
+
+"Well, if that ain't just like you, Billy," cried Jimmy, "you
+all time perposing to play chain-gang and you all time lose
+the key."
+
+Lina grew indignant.
+
+"You proposed this yourself, Jimmy Garner," she said; "we
+never would have thought of playing chain-gang but for you."
+
+"It looks like we can't never do anything at all," moaned
+Frances, "'thout grown folks 've got to know 'bout it."
+
+"Yes, and laugh fit to pop theirselfs open," said her
+fellow-prisoner.  "I can't never pass by Owen Gibbs and Len
+Hamner now 'thout they laugh just like idjets and grin just
+like pole-cats."
+
+"I ain't never hear tell of a pole-cat grinnin'," corrected
+Billy, "he jes' smell worser 'n what a billy goat do."
+
+"It is Chessy cats that grin," explained Lina.
+
+"Look like folks would get 'em a lot of pole-cats stead o'
+chillens always hafto be wearing assfetty bags 'round their
+nakes, so's they can keep off whopping-cough," said Frances.
+
+"You can't wear a pole-cat roun' yo' nake," grinned Billy.
+
+"And Len Hamner all time now asking me," Jimmy continued,
+"when I'm going to wear Sarah Jane's co'set to Sunday-School.
+Grown folks 'bout the lunatickest things they is.  Ain't you
+going to unlock this chain, Billy?" he demanded.
+
+"What I got to unlock it with?" asked Billy.
+
+As Jimmy's father was taking the crestfallen chaingang to the
+blacksmith shop to have their fetters removed, they had to
+pass by the livery stable; and Sam Lamb, bent double with
+intoxicating mirth at their predicament, yelled:
+
+"Lordee!  Lordee!  Y' all sho' is de outlandishest kids
+'twixt de Bad Place an' de moon."
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XXII
+
+                   A TRANSACTION IN MUMPS
+
+
+"Don't you come near me," screamed Billy, sauntering.  slowly and
+deliberately toward the dividing fence; "keep way f'om me; they's
+ketchin'."
+
+Jimmy was sitting on his front steps and the proverbial red flag
+could not have excited a bull to quicker action.  He hopped down
+the steps and ran across his own yard toward Billy as fast as
+his short, fat legs, could carry him.
+
+"Git 'way f'om me; you'll ketch 'em if you teches me," warned
+Billy; "an' you too little to have 'em," and he waved an
+authoritative hand at the other child.  But Jimmy's curiosity
+was aroused to the highest pitch.  He promptly jumped the
+fence and gazed at his chum with critical admiration.
+
+"What's the matter," he inquired, "you got the toothache?"
+
+"Toothache!" was the scornful echo, "well, I reckon not.  Git
+back; don't you tech 'em; you ain't ol' 'nough to have 'em."
+
+Billy's head was swathed in a huge, white cloth; his usually
+lean little cheeks were puffed out till he resembled a young
+hippopotamus, and his pretty grey eyes were almost invisible.
+
+"You better git 'way f'om me an' don't tech 'em, like I tells
+you," he reiterated.  "Aunt Minerva say you ain't never had 'em
+an' she say fer me to make you keep 'way f'om me 'cause you
+ain't a ol' chile like what I is."
+
+"You ain't but six," retorted angry Jimmy, "and I'll be six
+next month; you all time trying to 'suade little boys to
+think you're 'bout a million years old.  What's the matter
+with you, anyhow?  You 'bout the funniest looking kid they
+is."
+
+Billy theatrically touched a distended cheek.  "These here is
+mumps," he said impressively; "an' when you got 'em you can make
+grown folks do perzactly what you want 'em to.  Aunt Minerva's
+in the kitchen right now makin' me a 'lasses custard if I'll be
+good an' stay right in the house an' don't come out here in the
+yard an' don't give you the mumps.  Course I can't tech that
+custard now 'cause I done come out here an' it ain't honer'ble;
+but she's makin' it jes' the same.  You better git 'way f'om me
+an' not tech 'em; you too little to have 'em."
+
+"Are they easy to ketch?" asked the other little boy eagerly;
+"lemme jest tech 'em one time, Billy."
+
+"Git 'way, I tell you," warned the latter with a superior air.
+To increase Jimmy's envy he continued: "Grown folks tries to
+see how nice they can be to chillens what's got the mumps.  Aunt
+Minerva ain't been impedent to me to-day; she lemme do jest
+'bout like I please; it sho' is one time you can make grown
+folks step lively."  He looked at Jimmy meditatively, "It sho'
+is a plumb pity you ain't a ol' chile like what I is an' can't
+have the mumps.  Yo' ma 'd be skeered to spank you, skeered
+she 'd injuh yo' mumps.  Don't you come any closter to me," he
+again warned, "you too little to have 'em."
+
+"I'll give you five peewees if you'll lemme tech 'em so 's
+I can get 'em," pleaded the younger boy.
+
+Billy hesitated.  "You mighty little--" he began.
+
+"And my stoney," said the other child eagerly.
+
+"If you was a ol' little boy," said Billy, "it wouldn't make no
+diffunce; I don't want to make yo' ma mad an' Aunt Minerva say
+for me to keep 'way f'om you anyhow, though I didn't make her no
+promises."
+
+Jimmy grew angry.
+
+"You're the stingiest Peter they is, William Hill," he cried;
+"won't let nobody tech your old mumps.  My cousin in Memphis's
+got the measles; you just wait till I get 'em."
+
+Billy eyed him critically.
+
+"If you was ol'--" he was beginning.
+
+Jimmy thought he saw signs of his yielding.
+
+"And I'll give you my china egg, too," he quickly proposed.
+
+"Well, jest one tech," agreed Billy; "an' I ain't a-goin' to
+be 'sponsible neither," and he poked out a swollen jaw for
+Jimmy to touch.
+
+Ikey Rosenstein at this moment was spied by the two little
+boys as he was Walking jauntily by the gate.
+
+"You better keep 'way f'om here, Goose-Grease," Jimmy yelled at
+him; "you better get on the other side the street.  Billy here's
+got the mumps an' he lemme tech 'em so's I can get 'em, so's my
+papa and mama'll lemme do just perzactly like I want to; but
+you're a Jew and Jews ain't got no business to have the mumps,
+so you better get 'way.  I paid Billy 'bout a million dollars'
+worth to lemme tech his mumps," he said proudly.  "Get 'way; you
+can't have em."
+
+Ikey had promptly stopped at the gate.
+
+"What'll you take, Billy, to lemme get 'em?" he asked, his
+commercial spirit at once aroused.
+
+"What'll you gimme?" asked he of the salable commodity,
+with an eye to a bargain.
+
+Ikey pulled out a piece of twine and a blue glass bead from
+his pocket and offered them to the child with the mumps.
+These received a contemptuous rejection.
+
+"You can do perzactly like you please when you got the mumps,"
+insinuated Jimmy, who had seemingly allied himself with Billy
+as a partner in business; "grown folks bound to do what little
+boys want 'em to when you got the mumps."
+
+Ikey increased his bid by the stub of a lead pencil, but it was
+not until he had parted with his most cherished pocket
+possessions that he was at last allowed to place a gentle finger
+on the protuberant cheek.
+
+Two little girls with their baby-buggies were seen approaching.
+
+"G' 'way from here, Frances, you and Lina," howled Jimmy.  "Don't
+you come in here; me and Billy's got the mumps and you-all 'r'
+little girls and ought n' to have 'em.  Don't you come near us;
+they 're ketching."
+
+The two little girls immediately opened the gate, crossed the
+yard, mid stood in front of Billy.  They inspected him with
+admiration; he bore their critical survey with affected unconcern
+and indifference, as befitted one who had attained such
+prominence.
+
+"Don't tech 'em," he commanded, waving them off as he leaned
+gracefully against the fence.
+
+"I teched 'em," boasted the younger boy.  "What'll you all give
+us if we Il let you put your finger on 'em?"
+
+"I ain't a-goin' to charge little girls nothin'," said the
+gallant Billy, as he proffered his swollen jowl to each in turn.
+
+A little darkey riding a big black horse was galloping by;
+Jimmy hailed and halted him.
+
+"You better go fast," he shrieked.  "Me and Billy and Frances and
+Lina's got the mumps and you ain't got no business to have 'em
+'cause you're a nigger, and you better take your horse to the
+lib'ry stable 'cause he might ketch 'em too."
+
+The negro boy dismounted and hitched his horse to the fence.  "I
+gotter little tarrapim--" he began insinuatingly.
+
+And thus it came to pass that there was an epidemic of mumps
+in the little town of Covington, and William Green Hill grew
+rich in marbles, in tops, in strings, in toads, in chewing gum,
+and in many other things which comprise the pocket treasures of
+little boys.
+
+
+
+
+                       CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                   THE INFANT MIND SHOOTS
+
+
+Miss Minerva had bought a book for Billy entitled "Stories of
+Great and Good Men," which she frequently read to him for his
+education and improvement.  These stories related the principal
+events in the lives of the heroes but never mentioned any names,
+always asking at the end, "Can you tell me who this man was?"
+
+Her nephew heard the stories so often that he had some expression
+or incident by which he could identify each, without paying much
+attention while she was reading.
+
+He and his aunt had just settled themselves on the porch for a
+reading.
+
+Jimmy was on his own porch cutting up funny capers, and making
+faces for the other child's amusement.
+
+"Lemme go over to Jimmy's, Aunt Minerva," pleaded her nephew,
+"an' you can read to me to-night.  I 'd a heap ruther not hear
+you read right now.  It'll make my belly ache."
+
+Miss Minerva looked at him severely.
+
+"William," she enjoined, "don't you want to be a smart man when
+you grow up?"
+
+"Yes 'm," he replied, without much enthusiasm.  "Well, jes' lemme
+ask Jimmy to come over here an' set on the other sider you whils'
+you read.  He ain't never hear 'bout them tales, an' I s'pec'
+he'd like to come."
+
+"Very well," replied his flattered and gratified relative, "call
+him over."
+
+Billy went to the fence, where he signaled Jimmy to meet him.
+
+"Aunt Minerva say you come over an' listen to her read some er
+the pretties' tales you ever hear," he said, as if conferring a
+great favor.
+
+"Naw, sirree-bob!" was the impolite response across the fence,
+"them 'bout the measliest tales they is.  I'll come if she'll
+read my Uncle Remus book."
+
+"Please come on," begged Billy, dropping the patronizing manner
+that he had assumed, in hope of inducing his chum to share his
+martyrdom.  "You know Aunt Minerva'd die in her tracks 'fore
+she'd read Uncle Remus.  You'll like these-here tales 'nother
+sight better anyway.  I'll give you my stoney if you'll come."
+
+"Naw; you ain't going to get me in no such box as that.  If
+she'd just read seven or eight hours I wouldn't mind; but she'll
+get you where she wants you and read 'bout a million hours.  I
+know Miss Minerva."
+
+Billy's aunt was growing impatient.
+
+"Come, William," she called.  "I am waiting for you."
+
+Jimmy went back to his own porch and the other boy joined
+his kinswoman.
+
+"Why wouldn't Jimmy come?" she asked.
+
+"He--he ain't feeling very well," was the considerate
+rejoinder.
+
+"Once there was a little boy who was born in Virginia--" began
+Miss Minerva.
+
+"Born in a manger," repeated the inattentive little boy to
+himself, "I knows who that was."  So, this important question
+settled in his mind, he gave himself up to the full enjoyment
+of his chum and to the giving and receiving secret signals, the
+pleasure of which was decidedly enhanced by the fear of imminent
+detection.
+
+"Father, I can not tell a lie, I did it with my little
+hatchet,--"
+read the thin, monotonous voice at his elbow.
+
+Billy laughed aloud--at that minute Jimmy was standing on
+his head waving two chubby feet in the air.
+
+"William," said his aunt reprovingly, peering at him over her
+spectacles, "I don't see anything to laugh at,"--and she did
+not, but then she was in ignorance of the little conspiracy.
+
+"He was a good and dutiful son and he studied his lessons so
+well that when he was only seventeen years old he was employed
+to survey vast tracts of land in Virginia--"
+
+Miss Minerva emphasized every word, hoping thus to impress
+her nephew.  But he was so busy, keeping one eye on her and
+one on the little boy on the other porch, that he did not have
+time to use his ears at all and so did not hear one word.
+
+"Leaving his camp fires burning to deceive the enemy, he stole
+around by a circuitous route, fell upon the British and
+captured--"
+
+Billy held up his hands to catch a ball which Jimmy made believe
+to throw.
+
+Miss Minerva still read on, unconscious of her nephew's
+inattention:
+
+"The suffering at Valley Forge had been intense during the
+winter--"
+
+Billy made a pretense behind his aunt's upright back of throwing
+a ball while the other child held up two fat little hands to
+receive it.  Again he laughed aloud as Jimmy spat on his hands
+and ground the imaginary ball into his hip.
+
+She looked at him sternly over her glasses:
+
+"What makes you so silly?" she inquired, and without waiting for
+a reply went on with her reading; she was nearing the close now
+and she read carefully and deliberately.
+
+"And he was chosen the first president of the United States."
+
+Billy put his hands to his ears and wriggled his fingers at
+Jimmy, who promptly returned the compliment.
+
+"He had no children of his own, so he is called the Father of
+his Country."
+
+Miss Minerva closed the book, turned to the little boy at her
+side, and asked:
+
+"Who was this great and good man, William?"
+
+"Jesus," was his ready answer, in an appropriately solemn little
+voice.
+
+"Why, William Green Hill!" she exclaimed in disgust.  "What are
+you thinking of?  I don't believe you heard one word that
+I read."
+
+Billy was puzzled; he was sure she had said "Born in a manger."
+"I didn't hear her say nothin' 'bout bulrushes," he thought, "so
+'tain't Moses; she didn't say `log cabin,' so 'tain't Ab'aham
+Lincoln; she didn't say `Thirty cents look down upon you,' so
+'tain't Napolyon.  I sho' wish I'd paid 'tention."
+
+"Jesus!" his aunt was saying, "born in Virginia and first
+president of the United States!"
+
+"George Washin'ton, I aimed to say," triumphantly screamed
+the little boy, who had received his cue.
+
+
+
+
+                       CHAPTER, XXIV
+
+                    A FLAW IN THE TITLE
+
+
+Come on over," invited Jimmy.
+
+"All right; I believe I will," responded Billy, running to the
+fence.  His aunt's peremptory voice arrested his footsteps.
+
+"William, come here!" she called from the porch.
+
+He reluctantly retraced his steps.
+
+"I am going back to the kitchen to bake a cake and I want
+you to promise me not to leave the yard."
+
+"Lemme jes' go over to Jimmy's a little while," he begged.
+
+"No; you and Jimmy can not be trusted together; you are sure
+to get into mischief, and his mother and I have decided to
+keep the fence between you for a while.  Now, promise me that
+you will stay right in my yard."
+
+Billy sullenly gave her the promise and she went back to her
+baking.
+
+"That's always the way now," he said, meeting his little
+neighbor at the fence, "ever sence Aunt Minerva got onto
+this-here promisin' business, I don' have no freedom 't all.
+It's `William, promise me this,' an' it's `William, don't
+ferget yo' promise now,' tell I's jes' plumb sick 'n tired
+of it.  She know I ain't goin' back on my word an' she jest
+nachelly gits the 'vantage of me; she 'bout the hardest
+'oman to manage I ever seen sence I's born."
+
+"I can nearly all time make my mama do anything 'most if I jus'
+keep on trying and keep on a-begging," bragged the other boy;
+"I just say `May I, mama?' and she'll all time say, `No, go 'way
+from me and lemme 'lone,' and I just keep on, `May I, mama?  May
+I, mama?  May I, mama?  'and toreckly she'll say, `Yes, go on
+and lemme read in peace.'"
+
+"Aunt Minerva won't give in much," said Billy.  "When she say
+`No, William,' 'tain't no use 'tall to beg her; you jest wastin'
+yo' breath.  When she put her foot down it got to go just like
+she say; she sho' do like to have her own way better 'n any
+'oman I ever see."
+
+"She 'bout the mannishest woman they is," agreed Jimmy.  "She
+got you under her thumb, Billy.  I don' see what womans 're
+made fo' if you can't beg 'em into things.  I wouldn't let no
+old spunky Miss Minerva get the best of me that 'way.  Come
+on, anyhow."
+
+"Naw, I can't come," was the gloomy reply; "if she'd jest tol'
+me not to, I coulder went but she made me promise, an' I ain't
+never goin' back on my word.  You come over to see me."
+
+"I can't," came the answer across the fence; "I'm earning me a
+baseball mask.  I done already earnt me a mitt.  My mama don't
+never make me promise her nothing, she just pays me to be good.
+That's huccome I'm 'bout to get 'ligion and go to the mourner's
+bench.  She's gone up town now and if I don't go outside the
+yard while she's gone, she's going to gimme a baseball mask.  You
+got a ball what you bringed from the plantation, and I'll have
+a bat and mitt and mask and we can play ball some.  Come on over
+just a little while; you ain't earning you nothing like what
+I'm doing."
+
+"Naw; I promis' her not to an' I ain't ever goin' to break
+my promise."
+
+"Well, then, Mr. Promiser," said Jimmy, "go get your ball
+and we'll th'ow 'cross the fence.  I can't find mine."
+
+Billy kept his few toys and playthings in a closet, which was
+full of old plunder.  As he reached for his ball something fell
+at his feet from a shelf above.  He picked it up, and ran
+excitedly into the yard.
+
+"Look, Jimmy," he yelled, "here's a baseball mask I found in the
+closet."
+
+Jimmy, forgetful of the fact that he was to be paid for staying
+at home, immediately rolled over the fence and ran eagerly
+toward his friend.  They examined the article in question with
+great care.
+
+"It looks perzactly like a mask," announced Jimmy after a
+thorough inspection, "and yet it don't."  He tried it on.  "It
+don't seem to fit your face right," he said.
+
+Sarah Jane was bearing down upon them.  "Come back home dis
+minute, Jimmy!" she shrieked, "want to ketch some mo' contagwous
+'seases, don't yuh?  What dat y' all got now?"  As she drew
+nearer a smile of recognition and appreciation overspread her
+big good-natured face.  Then she burst into a loud, derisive
+laugh.  "What y' all gwine to do wid Miss Minerva's old bustle?"
+she enquired.  "Y' all sho' am de contaritest chillens in dis
+here copperation."
+
+"Bustle?" echoed Billy, "What's a bustle?"
+
+"Dat-ar's a bustle--dat's what's a bustle.  Ladies useto wear
+'em 'cause dey so stylish to make they dresses stick out in the
+back.  Come on home, Jimmy, 'fore yuh ketch de yaller jandis er
+de epizootics; yo' ma tol' yuh to stay right at home."
+
+"Well, I'm coming, ain't I?" scowled the little boy.  "Mama
+needn't to know nothing 'thout you tell."
+
+"Would you take yo' mama's present now, Jimmy?" asked Billy;
+"you ain't earnt it."
+
+"Wouldn't you?" asked Jimmy, doubtfully.
+
+"Naw, I would n't, not 'thout I tol' her."
+
+"Well, I'll tell her I just comed over a minute to see 'bout
+Miss Minerva's bustle," he agreed as he again tumbled over
+the fence.
+
+A little negro boy, followed by a tiny, white dog, was passing
+by Miss Minerva's gate.
+
+Billy promptly flew to the gate and hailed him.  Jimmy, looking
+around to see that Sarah Jane had gone back to the kitchen, as
+promptly rolled over the fence and joined him.
+
+"Lemme see yo' dog," said the former.
+
+"Ain't he cute?" said the latter.
+
+The little darkey picked up the dog and passed it across the
+gate.
+
+"I wish he was mine," said the smaller child, as he took the
+soft,
+fluffy little ball in his arms; "what'll you take for him?"
+
+The negro boy had never seen the dog before, but he immediately
+accepted the ownership thrust upon him and answered without
+hesitation, "I'll take a dollar for her."
+
+"I ain't got but a nickel.  Billy, ain't you got 'nough money to
+put with my nickel to make a dollar?"
+
+"Naw; I ain't got a red cent."
+
+"I'll tell you what we'll do," suggested Jimmy; "we'll trade you
+a baseball mask for him.  My mama's going to give me a new mask
+'cause I all time stay at home; so we'll trade you our old one.
+Go get it, Billy."
+
+Thus commanded Billy ran and picked up the bustle where it lay
+neglected on the grass and handed it to the quasi-owner of the
+puppy.
+
+The deal was promptly closed and a little black negro went
+grinning down the street with Miss Minerva's old bustle tied
+across his face, leaving behind him a curly-haired dog.
+
+"Ain't he sweet?" said Jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close
+to his breast, "we got to name him, Billy."
+
+"Le's name her Peruny Pearline," was the suggestion of the other
+joint owner.
+
+"He ain't going to be name' nothing at all like that," declared
+Jimmy; "you all time got to name our dogs the scalawaggest name
+they is.  He's going to be name' 'Sam Lamb' 'cause he's my
+partner."
+
+"She's a girl dog," argued Billy, "an' she can't be name' no
+man's name.  If she could I'd call her Major."
+
+"I don't care what sort o' dog he is, girl or boy, he's going to
+be name' 'Sam Lamb'!" and he fondly stroked the little animal's
+soft head.
+
+"Here, Peruny!  Here, Perunyl" and Billy tried to snatch her
+away.
+
+The boys heard a whistle; the dog heard it, too.  Springing from
+the little boy's arms Sam Lamb Peruny Pearline ran under the gate
+and flew to meet her master, who was looking for her.
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XXV
+
+                  EDUCATION AND ITS PERILS
+
+
+It was a warm day in early August and the four children were
+sitting contentedly in the swing.  They met almost every
+afternoon now, but were generally kept under strict surveillance
+by Miss Minerva.
+
+"'Twon't be long 'fore we'll all hafto go to school," remarked
+Frances, "and I'll be mighty sorry; I wish we didn't ever hafto
+go to any old school."
+
+"I wisht we knowed how to read an' write when we's born," said
+Billy.  "If I was God I'd make all my babies so's they is already
+eddicated when they gits born.  Reckon if we'd pray evy night an'
+ask God, He'd learn them babies what He's makin' on now how to
+read an' write?"
+
+"I don' care nothing at all 'bout them babies," put in Jimmy,
+"'tain't going to do us no good if all the new babies what Doctor
+Sanford finds can read and write; it'd jes' make 'em the
+sassiest things ever was.  'Sides, I got plenty things to ask
+God for 'thout fooling long other folks' brats, and I ain't
+going to meddle with God's business nohow."
+
+"Did you all hear what Miss Larrimore, who teaches the little
+children at school, said about us?" asked Lina importantly.
+
+"Naw," they chorused, "what was it?"
+
+"She told the Super'ntendent," was the reply of Lina, pleased
+with herself and with that big word, "that she would have to have
+more money next year, for she heard that Lina Hamilton, Frances
+Black, William Hill, and Jimmy Garner were all coming to school,
+and she said we were the most notorious bad children in town."
+
+"She is the spitefullest woman they is," Jimmy's black eyes
+snapped; "she 'bout the meddlesomest teacher in that school."
+
+"Who telled you 'bout it, Lina?" questioned the other little
+girl.
+
+"The Super'ntendent told his wife and you know how some ladies
+are,--they just can't keep a secret.  Now it is just like burying
+it to tell mother anything; she never tells anybody but father,
+and grandmother, and grandfather, and Uncle Ed, and Brother
+Johnson, and she makes them promise never to breathe it to a
+living soul.  But the Super'ntendent's wife is different; she tells
+ever'thing she hears, and now everybody knows what that teacher
+said about us."
+
+"Everybody says she is the crankiest teacher they is," cried
+Jimmy, "she won't let you bring nothing to school 'cepting your books;
+you can't even take your slingshot, nor your air-gun, nor--"
+
+"Nor your dolls," chimed in Frances, "and she won't let  you bat
+your eye, nor say a word, nor cross your legs, nor  blow your
+nose."
+
+"What do she think we's goin' to her of school fer if we can't
+have fun?" asked Billy.  "Tabernicle sho' had fun when he went to
+school.  He put a pin in the teacher's chair an' she set down on it
+plumb up to the head, an' he tie the strings together what two
+nigger gals had they hair wropped with, an' he squoze up a little
+boy's legs in front of him with a rooster foot tell he squalled
+out loud, an' he th'owed spitballs, an' he make him some
+watermelon teeth, an' he paint a chicken light red an' tuck it to
+the teacher fer a dodo, an' he put cotton in his pants 'fore he
+got licked, an' he drawed the teacher on a slate.  That's what you
+go to school fer is to have fun, an' I sho' is goin' to have fun
+when I goes, an' I ain't goin' to take no bulldozin' offer her,
+neither."
+
+"I bet we can squelch her," cried Frances, vindictively.
+
+"Yes, we'll show her a thing or two,'--for once Jimmy agreed with
+her, "she 'bout the butt-in-est old woman they is, and she's
+going to find out we 'bout the squelchingest kids ever she tackle."
+
+"Alfred Gage went to school to her last year," said Frances,
+"and he can read and write."
+
+"Yes," joined in Jimmy, "and he 'bout the proudest boy they
+is; all time got to write his name all over everything."
+
+"You 'member 'bout last Communion Sunday," went on the little
+girl, "when they hand roun' the little envellups and telled all the
+folks what was willing to give five dollars more on the pastor's
+sal'y just to write his name; so Alfred he so frisky 'cause he
+know how to write; so he tooken one of the little envellups and
+wroten `Alfred Gage' on it; so when his papa find out 'bout it
+he say that kid got to work and pay that five dollars hi'self,
+'cause he done sign his name to it."
+
+"And if he ain't 'bout the sickest kid they is," declared Jimmy;
+"I'll betcher he won't get fresh no more soon.  He telled me the
+other day he ain't had a drink of soda water this summer, 'cause
+every nickel he gets got to go to Mr. Pastor's sal'ry; he says
+he plumb tired supporting Brother Johnson and all his family;
+and, he say, every time he go up town he sees Johnny Johnson
+a-setting on a stool in Baltzer's drug store just a-swigging
+milk-shakes; he says he going to knock him off some day 'cause
+it's his nickels that kid's a-spending."
+
+There was a short silence, broken by Billy, who remarked, apropos
+of nothing:
+
+"I sho' is glad I don't hafter be a 'oman when I puts on long
+pants, mens is heap mo' account."
+
+"I wouldn't be a woman for nothing at all," Jimmy fully agreed
+with him; "they have the pokiest time they is."
+
+"I'm glad I am going to be a young lady when I grow up," Lina
+declared, "I wouldn't be a gentleman for anything.  I'm going to
+wear pretty clothes and be beautiful and be a belle like mother
+was, and have lots of lovers kneel at my feet on one knee and
+play the guitar with the other."
+
+"How they goin' to play the guitar with they other knee?" asked
+the practical Billy.
+
+"And sing `Call Me Thine Own,'" she continued, ignoring his
+interruption.  "Father got on his knees to mother
+thirty-seven-and-a-half times before she'd say, `I will."'
+
+"Look like he'd 'a' wore his breeches out," said Billy.
+
+"I don't want to be a lady," declared Frances; "they can't
+ever ride straddle nor climb a tree, and they got to squinch
+up their waists and toes.  I wish I could kiss my elbow right
+now and turn to a boy."
+
+
+
+
+                        CHAPTER XXVI
+
+                  UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
+
+
+"They's going to be a big nigger 'scursion to Memphis at 'leven
+o'clock," said Jimmy as he met the other little boy at the
+dividing fence; "Sam Lamb's going and 'most all the niggers they
+is.  Sarah Jane 'lowed she's going, but she ain't got nobody to
+'tend to Bennie Dick.  Wouldn't you like to go, Billy?"
+
+"You can't go 'thout you's a nigger," was the reply; "Sam Lamb
+say they ain't no white folks 'lowed on this train 'cepin' the
+engineer an' conductor."
+
+"Sam Lamb'd take care of us if we could go," continued Jimmy.
+"Let's slip off and go down to the depot and see the niggers
+get on.  There'll be 'bout a million."
+
+Billy's eyes sparkled with appreciation.
+
+"I sho' wish I could," he said;" but Aunt Minerva'd make me stay
+in bed a whole week if I want near the railroad."
+
+"My mama 'd gimme 'bout a million licks, too, if I projeckted
+with a nigger 'scursion she 'bout the spankingest woman they is.
+My papa put some burnt cork on his face in the Knights er Pythi's
+minstrels and I know where we can get some to make us black; you
+go get Miss Minerva's ink bottle too, that'll help some, and get
+some matches, and I'll go get the cork and we can go to Sarah
+Jane's house and make usselfs black."
+
+"I ain't never promise not to black up and go down to the depot,"
+said Billy waveringly.  "I promise not to never be no mo' Injun
+--I--"
+
+"Well, run then," Jimmy interrupted impatiently.  "We'll just
+slip down to the railroad and take a look at the niggers.  You
+don't hafto get on the train just 'cause you down to the depot."
+
+So Miss Minerva's nephew, after tiptoeing into the house for
+her ink bottle and filling his pockets with contraband matches,
+met his chum at the cabin.  There, under the critical survey of
+Bennie Dick from his customary place on the floor, they darkened
+their faces, heads, hands, feet, and legs; then, pulling their
+caps over their eyes, these energetic little boys stole out of
+the back gate and fairly flew down an alley to the station.  No
+one noticed them in that hot, perspiring, black crowd.  A
+lively band was playing and the mob of good-humored, happy
+negroes, dressed in their Sunday best, laughing and joking,
+pushing and elbowing, made their way to the excursion train
+standing on the track.
+
+The two excited children got directly behind a broad, pompous
+negro and slipped on the car just after him.  Fortunately they
+found a seat in the rear of the coach and there they sat
+unobserved, still and quiet, except for an occasional delighted
+giggle, till the bell clanged and the train started off.  "We'll
+see Sam Lamb toreckly," whispered Jimmy, "and he'll take care of
+us."
+
+The train was made up of seven coaches, which had been taking
+on negroes at every station up the road as far as Paducah, and
+it happened that the two little boys did not know a soul in
+their car.
+
+But when they were nearing Woodstock, a little station not far
+from Memphis, Sam Lamb, making a tour of the cars, came into
+their coach and was promptly hailed by the children.  When he
+recognized them, he burst into such a roar of laughter that it
+caused all the other passengers to turn around and look in their
+direction.
+
+"What y' all gwine to do nex' I jes' wonder," he exclaimed.
+"Yo' ekals ain't made dis side o' 'ternity.  Lordee, Lordee,"
+he gazed at them admiringly, "you sho' is genoowine corn-fed,
+sterlin' silver, all-woolan'-a-yard-wide, pure-leaf, Green-River
+Lollapaloosas.  Does yo' folks know 'bout yer?  Lordee!  What I
+axin' sech a fool question fer?  'Course dey don't.  Come on, I
+gwine to take y' all off 'n dese cars right here at dis
+Woodstock, an' we kin ketch de 'commodation back home."
+
+"But Sam," protested Billy, "We don't want to go back home.
+We wants to go to Memphis."
+
+"Hit don't matter what y' all wants," was the negro's reply,
+"y' all gotta git right off.  Dis-here 'scursion train don't
+leave Memphis twell twelve o'clock tonight an' yuh see how
+slow she am runnin', and ev'y no 'count nigger on her'll be
+full o' red eye.  An' yo' folks is plumb 'stracted 'bout yer
+dis minute, I 'low.  Come on.  She am gittin' ready to stop."
+
+He grabbed the blackened hand of each, pushing Jimmy and
+pulling Billy, and towed the reluctant little boys through
+the coach.
+
+"Yuh sho' is sp'iled my fun," he growled as he hustled them
+across the platform to the waitingroom.  "Dis-here's de fus'
+'scursion I been on widout Sukey a-taggin' long in five year
+an' I aimed fo' to roll 'em high; an' now, 'case o' ketchin'
+up wid y' all, I gotta go right back home.  Now y' all set
+jes' as straight as yer kin set on dis here bench," he
+admonished, "whilst I send a telegraph to Marse Jeems
+Garner.  An' don' yuh try to 'lope out on de flatform neider.
+Set whar I kin keep my eye skinned on yuh, yuh little
+slipp'ry-ellum eels.  Den I gwine to come back an' wash yer,
+so y' all look like 'spectable white folks."
+
+Miss Minerva came out of her front door looking for Billy at
+the same time that Mrs. Garner appeared on her porch in search
+of Jimmy.
+
+"William!  You William!" called one woman.
+
+"Jimmee-ee!  O Jimmee-ee-ee!" called the other.
+
+"Have you seen my nephew?" asked the one.
+
+"No.  Have you seen anything of Jimmy?" was the reply of the
+other.
+
+"They were talking together at the fence about an hour ago,"
+said Billy's aunt.  "Possibly they are down at the livery
+stable with Sam Lamb; I'll phone and find out."
+
+"And I'll ring up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Hamilton.  They may
+have gone to see Lina or Frances."
+
+In a short time both women appeared on their porches again:
+
+"They have not been to the stable this morning," said Miss
+Minerva uneasily, "and Sam went to Memphis on the excursion
+train."
+
+"And they are not with Lina or Frances,"--Mrs. Garner's face
+wore an anxious look, "I declare I never saw two such
+children.  Still, I don't think we need worry as it is nearly
+dinner time, and they never miss their meals, you know."
+
+But the noon hour came and with it no hungry little boys.
+Then, indeed, did the relatives of the children grow uneasy.
+The two telephones were kept busy, and Mr. Garner, with
+several other men on horseback, scoured the village.  Not a
+soul had seen either child.
+
+At three o'clock Miss Minerva, worn with anxiety and on the
+verge of a collapse, dropped into a chair on her veranda,
+her faithful Major by her side.  He had come to offer help
+and sympathy as soon as he heard of her distress, and,
+finding her in such a softened, dependent, and receptive
+mood, the Major had remained to try to cheer her up.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Garner were also on the porch, discussing what
+further steps they could take.
+
+"It is all the fault of that William of yours," snapped one
+little boy's mother to the other little boy's aunt: "Jimmy is
+the best child in the world when he is by himself, but he is
+easily led into mischief."
+
+Miss Minerva's face blazed with indignation.
+
+"William's fault indeed!" she answered back.  "There never
+was a sweeter child than William;" for the lonely woman knew
+the truth at last.  At the thought that her little nephew
+might be hurt, a long forgotten tenderness stirred her bosom
+and she realized for the first time how the child had grown
+into her life.
+
+The telegram came.
+
+"They are all right," shouted Mr. Garner joyously, as he
+quickly opened and read the yellow missive, "they went on
+the excursion and Sam Lamb is bringing them home on the
+accommodation."
+
+
+As the Major, short, plump, rubicund, jolly, and Miss
+Minerva, tall, sallow, angular, solemn, were walking to the
+station to meet the train that was bringing home the
+runaways, the elderly lover knew himself to be at last
+master of the situation.
+
+"The trouble with Billy--" he began, adjusting his steps to
+Miss Minerva's mincing walk.
+
+"William," she corrected, faintly.
+
+"The trouble with Billy," repeated her suitor firmly, "is
+this: you have tried to make a girl out of a healthy,
+high-spirited boy; you haven't given him the toys and
+playthings a boy should have; you have not even given the
+child common love and affection."  He was letting himself go,
+for he knew that she needed the lecture, and, wonderful to
+tell, she was listening meekly.  "You have steeled your
+heart," he went on, "against Billy and against me.  You have
+about as much idea how to manage a boy as a--as a--" he
+hesitated for a suitable comparison: he wanted to say "goat,"
+but gallantry forbade; "as any other old maid," he blurted out,
+realizing as he did so that a woman had rather be called a goat
+than an old maid any time.
+
+The color mounted to Miss Minerva's face.
+
+"I don't have to be an old maid," she snapped spunkily.
+
+"No; and you are not going to be one any longer," he
+answered with decision.  "I tell you what, Miss Minerva, we
+are going to make a fine, manly boy out of that nephew of yours."
+
+"We?" she echoed faintly.
+
+"Yes, we!  I said we, didn't I?" replied the Major ostentatiously.
+"The child shall have a pony to ride and every thing else that a
+boy ought to have.  He is full of natural animal spirits and has
+to find some outlet for them; that is the reason he is always in
+mischief.  Now, I think I understand children."  He drew himself
+up proudly.  "We shall be married to-morrow," he announced, "that
+I may assume at once my part of the responsibility of Billy's
+rearing."
+
+Miss Minerva looked at him in fluttering consternation.
+
+"Oh, no, not to-morrow," she protested; "possibly next year some
+time."
+
+"To-morrow," reiterated the Major, his white moustache bristling
+with determination.  Having at last asserted himself, he was
+enjoying the situation immensely and was not going to give way
+one inch.
+
+"We will be married to-morrow and--"
+
+"Next month," she suggested timidly.
+
+"To-morrow, I tell you!"
+
+"Next week," she answered.
+
+"To-morrow!  To-morrow!  To-morrow!" cried the Major, happy as
+a schoolboy.
+
+"Next Sunday night after church," pleaded Miss Minerva.
+
+"No, not next Sunday or Monday or Tuesday.  We will be married
+to-morrow," declared the dictatorial Confederate veteran.
+
+Billy's aunt succumbed.
+
+"Oh, Joseph," she said with almost a simper, "you are so
+masterful."
+
+"How would you like me for an uncle?" Miss Minerva's affianced
+asked Billy a few minutes later.
+
+"Fine an' dandy," was the answer, as the child wriggled himself
+out of his aunt's embrace.  The enthusiastic reception accorded
+him, when he got off the train, was almost too much for the
+little boy.  He gazed at the pair in embarrassment.  He was for
+the moment disconcerted and overcome; in place of the expected
+scoldings and punishment, he was received with caresses and
+flattering consideration.  He could not understand it at all.
+
+The Major put a hand on the little boy's shoulder and smiled a
+kindly smile into his big, grey, astonished eyes as the happy
+lover delightedly whispered, "Your aunt Minerva is going to
+marry me to-morrow, Billy."
+
+"Pants an' all?" asked William Green Hill.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss Minerva and William Green Hill
+by Frances Boyd Calhoun
+
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