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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5187-0.txt b/5187-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..607f4a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/5187-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4951 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA *** + +***** This file should be named 5187-0.txt or 5187-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/8/5187/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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> + “Mercy on me, child,” she said, “what on earth made you ride up there? Why + didn't you get inside?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The little boy carelessly drew the back of his hand across his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” she asked. “Are you wiping my kiss off?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw 'm,” he replied, “I's jest a—I's a-rubbin' it in, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, William,” and his aunt led the way through the wide hall into w + big bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Billy, ma'am,” corrected her nephew. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Darned if 'tain't,” agreed the child promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Who taught you such a naughty word?” she asked in a horrified voice. + “Don't you know it is wrong to curse?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Aunt Cindy?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + A pale pink dyed Miss Minerva's thin, sallow face. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a married woman,” she replied, curtly, “and I most assuredly + would not permit any oaths to be used on my premises.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter is jest nach'elly boon' to cuss,—he's + got a repertation to keep up,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilkes Booth Lincoln?” questioned his aunt. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She opened a door in considerable confusion, and they entered a small, + neat room adjoining. + </p> + <p> + “This is your own little room, William,” said she, “you see it opens into + mine. Have you a nightshirt?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw 'm, I don' need no night-shirt. I jest sleeps in my unions and + sometimes in my overalls.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll come in here after a while and turn off the light. Good-night, + William.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Aunt Minerva,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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: “'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> + “'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.'” + </p> + <p> + “What is that you have tied around your neck, William?” she asked, as the + little boy rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said firmly; “I'll put a stop to such nonsense at once. Give it + to me, William.” + </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> + “What is the matter, William?” she coldly asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you a Bible story,” again suggested his aunt, “I will tell + you about—” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Rabbit up the gum tree, Coon is in the holler + Wake, snake; Juney-Bug stole a half a dollar.”' +</pre> + <p> + “I'll sing you a hymn,” said Miss Minerva patiently. + </p> + <p> + “I don' want to hear you sing no hymn,” said Billy impolitely. “I wants to + see Sanctified Sophy shout.” + </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> + “An' I wants Wilkes Booth Lincoln to dance a clog,” 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> + “Gimme my rabbit foot, Aunt Minerva, an' I'll go right off to sleep.” + </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. “If he had only been a girl,” she sighed. What she believed to + be a happy thought entered her brain. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Get up, William,” said Miss Minerva, “and come with me to the bath-room; + I have fixed your bath.” + </p> + <p> + The child's sleepy eyes popped wide open at this astounding command. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't this-here Wednesday?” he asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; to-day is Wednesday. Hurry up or your water will get cold.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said his relative; “you must bathe every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never wash on a Wednesday sence we's + born,” 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> + “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.” + </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> + “I sho' is hongry,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy enjoyed his breakfast very much. “These muffins sho' is—” he + began; catching his aunt's eye he corrected himself— + </p> + <p> + “These muffins am very good.” + </p> + <p> + “These muffins are very good,” said Miss Minerva patiently. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Use your napkin,” commanded she, “and don't fill your mouth so full.” + </p> + <p> + The little boy flooded his plate with syrup. + </p> + <p> + “These-here 'lasses sho' is—” he began, but instantly remembering + that he must be more particular in his speech, he stammered out: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She did not again correct him. + </p> + <p> + “I must be very patient,” she thought, “and go very slowly. I must not + expect too much of him at first.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “Aunt Minerva,” he said mischievously, “I done ruint yo' buttermilk.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you cry?” asked Miss Minerva calmly. “Don't you like to work?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Churn on!” she commanded unsympathetically. + </p> + <p> + He grabbed the dasher and churned vigorously for one minute. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon the butter's done come,” he announced, resting from his labors. + </p> + <p> + “It hasn't begun to come yet,” replied the exasperated woman. “Don't waste + so much time, William.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I never put hot water in my milk,” said she, “it makes the butter puffy. + Work more and talk less, William.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you shall not,” responded his annoyed relative positively. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “William,” commanded his aunt, “don't say another word until you have + finished your work.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't I sing?” 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"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Miss Minerva jerked him off with no gentle hand. + </p> + <p> + “What I done now?” asked the boy innocently, “'tain't no harm as I can see + jes' to straddle a churn.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Hello!” shouted Billy. “Is you the bad little boy what can't play with + me?” + </p> + <p> + “What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?” came the answering interrogation + across the fence. + </p> + <p> + “I's come to live with her,” replied Billy. “My mama an' papa is dead. + What's yo' name?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Jimmy Garner. How old are you? I'm most six, I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, I's already six, a-going on seven. Come on, le's swing.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't,” said the new acquaintance, “I've runned off once to-day, and got + licked for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't never got no whippin' sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln 's born,” + boasted Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Who lives over there?” asked Billy, pointing to the house across the + street. + </p> + <p> + “That's Miss Cecilia's house. That's her coming out of the front gate + now.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady smiled and waved her hand at them. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't she a peach?” asked Jimmy. “She's my sweetheart and she is 'bout + the swellest sweetheart they is.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what,” proposed Billy, “lemme have her an' you can have + Aunt Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll betcher I have her fer a sweetheart soon as ever I see her,” said + Billy. + </p> + <p> + “What's your name?” asked Jimmy presently. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Minerva says it's William Green Hill, but 'tain't, it's jest plain + Billy,” responded the little boy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what He looks like,” mused Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She's goin' to be my Sunday-School teacher, too,” said Billy serenely. + </p> + <p> + “Yours nothing; you all time want my Sunday-School teacher.” + </p> + <p> + “Jimmee!” called a voice from the interior of the house in the next yard. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody's a-callin' you,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “That ain't nobody but mama,” explained Jimmy composedly. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmee-ee!” called the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make no noise,” warned that little boy, “maybe she'll give up + toreckly.” + </p> + <p> + “You Jimmee!” his mother called again. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy made no move to leave the swing. + </p> + <p> + “I don' never have to go 'less she says 'James Lafayette Garner,' then I + got to hustle,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy Garner!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “James Garner!” + </p> + <p> + “It's coming now,” said Jimmy dolefully. + </p> + <p> + The two little boys sat very still and quiet. + </p> + <p> + “James Lafayette Garner!” + </p> + <p> + The younger child sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find 'em?” asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I knows Sam Lamb,” said Billy, “I rode up on the bus with him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's my partner,” remarked Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “He's mine, too,” said Billy quickly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you jest wait an' see,” said Billy. “I got Major Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks,” said the country boy, contemptuously, “You do' know a steer when + you see one; you can't milk no steer.” + </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> + “Look! Ain't that a snake?” shrieked Billy, pointing to what looked to him + like a big snake coiled in the yard. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Won't Aunt Minerva care?” he asked, anxiously. “Is she a real 'ligious + 'oman?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Wilkes Booth Lincoln could see us,” 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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Two little girls rolling two doll buggies in which reposed two enormous + rag-babies were seen approaching. + </p> + <p> + “That's Lina Hamilton and Frances Black,” said Jimmy, “they're my chums.” + </p> + <p> + Billy took a good look at them. “They's goin' to be my chums, too,” he + said calmly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The little girls were now quite near and Jimmy hailed them gleefully, + forgetful of his anger. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know none of us are allowed to use a hose,” objected Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't run,” said Billy, “I ain't got nowhere to run to an'—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yonder comes Goose-Grease Rosenstein,” said Jimmy gleefully. “When he + gets right close le's make him hop.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” agreed Billy, his good humor restored, “le's baptize him + good.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “'T was the cow jumped over the moon,” said Frances, “and it isn't in the + Bible; it's in Mother Goose.” + </p> + <p> + “And Elijah went to Heaven in a chariot of fire,” corrected Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Ikey was quite near by this time to command the attention of the four + children. + </p> + <p> + “Let's mesmerize Goose-Grease,” 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> + “My papa is going to have you all arrested and locked up in the + calaboose.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + A short, stout man, dressed in neat black clothes, was coming toward them. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he have on long pants?” asked Billy. “I call him Major Minerva—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Lina gazed up the street. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “You 'd better turn that water off 'cause Miss Minerva's going to be + madder 'n a green persimmon.” + </p> + <p> + “I do' know how to,” said Billy forlornly. “You turnt it on.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You perposed this yo'self,” declared an indignant Billy. “You said Aunt + Minerva's so 'ligious she wouldn't git mad.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Come with me into the house,” continued his aunt, “you must go to bed at + once.” + </p> + <p> + But the child protested vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </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> + “I have a present for you,” said his aunt, handing Billy a long, + rectangular package. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What I want with a doll?” he asked angrily, “I ain't no girl.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Lina and Frances and James!” exclaimed his aunt. “What do you know about + them, William?” + </p> + <p> + The child's face flushed. “I seen 'em this mornin',” he acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva put a hand on either shoulder der and looked straight into + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “William, who started that sprinkling this morning?” 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> + “I see yo' beau too, Aunt Minerva,” 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> + “My beau?” she asked confusedly. “Who put that nonsense into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Sit down here, William,” she commanded, “and I will read to you.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me 'bout Piljerk Peter.” + </p> + <p> + “Piljerk Peter?” there was an interrogation in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “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'—.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + Billy's aunt concluded. Wishing to know if he had understood what she had + just read she asked: + </p> + <p> + “What people sleep the soundest?” + </p> + <p> + “Niggers,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yas 'm,” 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> + “What animals have the keenest sense of smell, William?” was her query at + the conclusion of her reading. + </p> + <p> + “Billy goats,” was Billy's answer without the slightest hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “You have goats on the brain,” she said in anger. “I did not read one word + about billy goats.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if 'taint a billy goat,” he replied, “I do' know what 'tis 'thout + it's a skunk.” + </p> + <p> + “I bought you a little primer this morning,” she remarked after a short + silence, “and I want you to say a lesson every day.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + That night he concluded his ever lengthy prayer at his kinswoman's knee + with: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + As he rose from his knees he asked: “Aunt Minerva, do God work on Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o,” answered his relative, hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I want more 'n one,” declared Billy, who was used to having the lion's + share of everything. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Minerva ain't got none 'cep'in' what she put under a of hen fer to + set this mornin':” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you get 'em from under the old hen? Miss Minerva is such a + Christian woman, she ain't—” + </p> + <p> + “You done fool me 'bout that 'ligious business befo',” interrupted Billy, + “an' I got put to bed in the daytime.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she won't never miss two or three eggs,” coaxed Jimmy. “How many + did she put under the old hen?” + </p> + <p> + “She put fifteen,” was the response, “an' I don't believe she'd want me to + tech 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + They tiptoed stealthily around the house to the back-yard, but found the + hen-house door locked. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you get the key?” asked the younger child. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm skeered of the old hen,” objected Jimmy. “Is she much of a pecker?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw, she ain't a-goin' to hurt you,” was the encouraging reply. “Git up + an' crawl th'oo; I'll help you.” + </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> + “Billy,” he called angrily, “you got to come in here and hold this old + chicken; she's 'bout the terriblest pecker they is.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy tried to follow these instructions, but received another peck for + his pains. He promptly mutinied. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “If we ain't done lef' my cap outside on the groun',” said Billy. “What we + goin' to put the eggs in?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Pull!” yelled the owner of the short fat legs. “I'm stuck and can't go no + furder. Pull me th'oo, Billy.” + </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> + “Pull!” yelled the child again, “help me th'oo, Billy, 'fore this fool + chicken pecks all the meat off 'm my bones.” + </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> + “Pull again!” yelled the scared and angry child, “you 'bout the idjetest + idjet they is if you can't do no better 'n that.” + </p> + <p> + Billy jerked with all his strength, but with no visible result. + </p> + <p> + “Pull harder! You no-count gump!” 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> + “Lemme go!” he shrieked, “you old impe'dunt backbiter. I'm going to tell + Miss Minerva you pulled my legs out by the roots.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Jimmy!” warned the other child. “Don't make so much noise. Aunt + Minerva'll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “I want her to hear me,” screamed Jimmy. “You'd like me to stay stuck in a + chicken hole all night. Oh! oh! oh!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “My nephew's name is William,” corrected she. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Let's tell tales,” suggested Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” agreed Frances. “I'll tell the first. Once there's—” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yas, I does,” championed he; “go on, Frances.” + </p> + <p> + That little girl, thus encouraged, proceeded to tell the first tale: + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Frances,” reproved Lina, “you always get things wrong. I don't + believe they ate up that many children.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'I say tu'key buzzard, I say, + Who shall I see unexpected today?' +</pre> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you-all hear 'bout that 'Talian Dago that works on the section gang + eating a buzzard?” asked Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Naw,” said Billy. “Did it make him sick?” + </p> + <p> + “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.”' + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You may tell your tale now, Jimmy,” said Lina. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to tell 'bout William Tell 'cause he's in the Bible,” said + Jimmy. “Once they's a man name'—” + </p> + <p> + “William Tell isn't in the Bible,” declared Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Billy, you tell a tale and then it will be my time,” said Lina with + a savingthe-best-for-the-last air. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How he goin' to clam' up, Lina,” asked Billy, “with a rope ladder in one + hand and his guitar in the other?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” was the dignified answer. “That is the way it is told in + my fairy-tale book.” + </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> + “What makes your hair curl just like a girl's?” asked the latter. “It's + 'bout the curliest hair they is.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How long you been here, Billy?” asked the other boy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “Bennie Dick's got 'bout the kinkiest head they is.” + </p> + <p> + Bennie Dick was the two-year-old baby of Mrs. Garner's cook, Sarah Jane. + </p> + <p> + “It sho' is,” replied Billy. “Wouldn't he look funny if he had yaller + hair, 'cause his face is so black?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Minerva don' want me to go over to yo' house,” objected Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The little boy hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </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 “blondine” in one hand and a stick of candy in the other. + </p> + <p> + “Bennie Dick,” he said, “here's a nice stick of candy for you if you'll + let us wash your head.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'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.'” + </pre> + <p> + floated Sarah Jane's song nearer and nearer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Hit's de ole time erligion, + Hit's de ole time'” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Benny Dick nodded his head with a delighted grin of comprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Hit's de doing er de Lord,” cried his mother. “He gwine turn my chile + white an' he done begunt on his head!” + </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> + “What yer up ter now, Jimmy Garner?” she asked. “What yer been er-doing?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother has gone to the Aid, too,” said Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Le's's play sumpin' what we ain't never play, sence we 's born,” put in + Billy. + </p> + <p> + “I hope grandmother won't miss me.” said Lina, “she 's reading a very + interesting book.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's play Injun!” yelled Jimmy; “we ain't never play' Injun.” + </p> + <p> + This suggestion was received with howls of delight. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “My mother has a box of paint, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't never see Aunt Minerva put no red stuff on her face,” remarked + Billy, disappointedly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We got to have pipes,” was Frances's next suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “My papa's got 'bout a million pipes,” boasted Jimmy, “but he got 'em all + to the office, I spec'.” + </p> + <p> + “Father has a meerschaum.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway,” said Lina, + “but we must have feathers; all Indians wear feathers.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get my mama's duster,” said Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “Me, too,” chimed in Frances. + </p> + <p> + Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss Minerva's + waning reputation. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “We must have blankets, of course,” said Lina, with the air of one whose + word is law; “mother has a genuine Navajo.” + </p> + <p> + “I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me,” put in Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “How we goin' to make these feathers stick?” asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + They were in a dilemma till the resourceful Jimmy came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” he cried, “I'll be back 'fore you can say 'Jack + Robinson'.” + </p> + <p> + He rolled over the fence and was back in a few minutes, gleefully holding + up a bottle. + </p> + <p> + “This muc'lage'll make 'em stick,” 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> + “I'm going to be the Injun chief,” he boasted. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to be a Injun chief, too,” parroted Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't be named 'Bull,' Jimmy,” reproved Lina, “it isn't genteel to + say 'bull' before people.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am too,” he contended. “Setting Bull's the biggest chief they is + and I'm going to be name' him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am not going to play then,” said Lina primly, “my mother wants me + to be genteel, and 'bull' is not genteel.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what, Jimmy,” proposed Frances, “you be name' 'Setting Cow. + 'Cow' is genteel 'cause folks milk 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he can be named 'Sitting Steer',” she granted. Jimmy agreeing to the + compromise, peace was once more restored. + </p> + <p> + “Frances and Lina got to be the squashes,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't 'squashes,' it is 'squaws,”' corrected Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Bennie Dick can be a papoose,” suggested Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But I ain't no squash,” objected that little Indian. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Minerva'll sho' put me to bed this time,” said Billy. “Look like + ev'y day I gotter go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother will make me study the catechism all day to-morrow,” said Lina + dismally. + </p> + <p> + “Mama'll lock me up in the little closet under the stairway,” said + Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “I don't see that it does you any good, William, to put you to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I don' see as it do neither,” agreed Billy. + </p> + <p> + “I can not whip you; I am constitutionally opposed to corporal punishment + for children.” + </p> + <p> + “I's 'posed to it too,” he assented. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I will hire a servant, so that I may devote my entire time to + your training.” + </p> + <p> + This prospect for the future did not appeal to her nephew. On the contrary + it filled him with alarm. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “You will never make a preacher of yourself, William, unless you improve.” + </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> + “A preacher what 'zorts an' calls up mourners?” he said,—“not on yo' + tin-type. Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln—” + </p> + <p> + “How many times have I expressed the wish not to have you bring that + negro's name into the conversation?” she impatiently interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Don't you-all wish Santa Claus had his birthday right now 'stead 'o + waiting till Christmas to hang up our stockings?” asked Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Christmas isn't Santa Claus' birthday,” corrected Lina. “God was born on + Christmas and that's the reason we hang up our stockings.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Which you-all like the best: God or Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus?” asked + Florence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “I like Doctor Sanford the best,” said Florence, “'cause he 's my uncle, + and God and Santa Claus ain't kin to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Bible say, 'Love your kin-folks,' Miss Cecilia 'splained—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he a hant?” asked Billy. “I like the Major best—he 's got meat + on.” + </p> + <p> + “Naw; he didn't have no sheet on—just bones,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “No sheet on; no meat on!” chirruped Billy, glad of the rhyme. + </p> + <p> + “Was he a angel, Florence?” questioned Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Naw; he didn't have no harp and no wings neither.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a skeleton,” explained Lina. + </p> + <p> + “And Uncle Doc' just keeps that poor man there and won't let him go to + Heaven where dead folks b'longs.” + </p> + <p> + “I spec' he wasn't a good man 'fore he died and got to go to the Bad + Place,” suggested Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's ask riddles,” suggested Lina. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” shouted Frances, “I'm going to ask the first.” + </p> + <p> + “Naw; you ain't neither,” objected Jimmy. “You all time got to ask the + first riddle. I'm going to ask the first one— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'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—'” + </pre> + <p> + “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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'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?'” + </pre> + <p> + “A snake! A snake!” guessed Florence. “That's a easy riddle.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It was neither fish nor flesh nor bone,” she declared; “and a rabbit is + flesh and bone.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “S'pose a man was locked up in a house,” she asked, “how'd he get out?” + </p> + <p> + “Clam' outer a winder,” guessed Billy. + </p> + <p> + “'Twa'n't no winder to the house,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Crawled out th'oo the chim'ly, like Santa Claus,” was Billy's next guess. + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Billy's time,” said Lina, who seemed to be mistress of ceremonies. + </p> + <p> + “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”' + </p> + <p> + “I don't see no sense a tall in that,” argued Jimmy, “'thout some bad + little boys drownded 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What's this,” asked Jimmy: “'A man rode'cross a bridge and Fido walked? + 'Had a little dog name' Fido.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should a hangman wear suspenders?” asked Lina. “I'll bet nobody can + answer that.” + </p> + <p> + “To keep his breeches from falling off,” triumphantly answered Frances. + </p> + <p> + “No, you goose, a hangman should wear suspenders so that he 'd always have + a gallows handy.” + </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, “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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, “Go up to the front, William, and + shake hands with the nice kind preacher.” + </p> + <p> + “Wha' fer?” he asked. “I don' want to go up there; ev'ybody here'll look + right at me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, William,” commanded his aunt. “Go shake hands with the preacher.” + </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> + “And how long have you been an orphan?” the preacher was asking of Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Ever sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's born,” sweetly responded the + child. + </p> + <p> + “I 'bout the orphantest boy they is,” 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 “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.” + </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 “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: + </p> + <p> + “And you have no father or mother, little girl?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The children swung awhile in silence. Presently Jimmy broke the quiet by + remarking, + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Job's old turkey-hen wasn't deaf,” retorted Lina primly; “she was very, + very poor and thin.” + </p> + <p> + “She was deaf, too,” insisted Jimmy, “'cause it's in the Bible. I know all + 'bout job,” bragged he. + </p> + <p> + “I know all 'bout job, too,” chirped Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yas,” agreed Frances; “he saw Esau kissing Kate and Esau had to sell him + his birthstone to keep his mouth shut.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “And he sat under a 'tato vine;” put in Frances eagerly, “what God grew to + keep the sun off o' his boils and—” + </p> + <p> + “That was Jonah,” said Lina, “and it wasn't a potato vine; it was—” + </p> + <p> + “No, 't wasn't Jonah neither; Jonah is inside of a whale's bel—” + </p> + <p> + “Frances!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not a pumpkin vine, it—” + </p> + <p> + “And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting under a + morning-glory vine.” + </p> + <p> + “The whale vomicked him up,” said Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in Miss Pollie + Bumpus's head?” asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I sho' is,” fervently replied Miss Minerva's nephew; “she's hard 'nough + to manage now like she is.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an ear trumpet, Frances,” said Lina, “it is not a horn.” + </p> + <p> + “Le's play 'Hide the Switch,'” suggested Billy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to hide it first,” cried Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Naw, you ain't,” objected Jimmy, “you all time got to hide the switch + first. I'm going to hide it first myself.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Come on over,” he invited. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “Does Mr. John Smith live here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?” the stranger's grin was + ingratiating and agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Is you much of a cusser?” he asked solemnly, “'cause if you is you'll + hafter cut it out on these premises.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jones seemed much surprised and hurt at the question. + </p> + <p> + “An oath never passed these lips,” replied the truthful gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Can you churn?” + </p> + <p> + “Churn—churn?” with a reminiscent smile, “I can churn like a top.” + </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> + “And you're here all by yourself?” insinuated Billy's new friend. “And the + folks next door, where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “In the bath-room?” asked the child. “I did n' know it needed no fixin'.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “Don't you dare open your mouth or I'll crack your head open and scatter + your brains. I'll eat you alive.” + </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> + “'Tain't no fun setting out here,” he called to her, “so I 'm going in the + house and take a nap.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What you doing all tied up so?” he asked in low, frightened tones. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Algernon Jones done it. I spec' he's a robber an' is jes' a-robberin' + right now,” answered Billy. + </p> + <p> + “I'll untie you,” said his chum. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Miss Minerva what lives by me,” 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> + “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.” + </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> + “Hush!” he whispered mysteriously, “he's in the dining-room. Ain't you + bringed nobody else? Get your pistol and come on.” + </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> + “Hello! Is that you, Miss Central? This is me some more. Gimme Doctor + Sanford's office, please.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “What does all this mean? Are you hurt?” asked the Doctor as he examined + Mr. Jones's victim. + </p> + <p> + “No, I think I'm all right now,” was the reply; “but that scoundrel + certainly gave me a severe blow.” + </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, “Open the do' an' untie me.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “And he'd more 'n a million whiskers,” interrupted Jimmy, who thought + Billy was receiving too much attention, “and he—” + </p> + <p> + “One at a time,” said the Doctor. “Proceed, William.” + </p> + <p> + “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'—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “While you stand talking here the scoundrel will get away,” said the + injured man. + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” agreed Doctor Sanford, “so I'll go and find the Sheriff.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah Jane's huge form loomed up in the back-hall doorway, and she grabbed + Jimmy by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Yaas,” she cried, “you gwine take you a nap is yuh, yuh 'ceitful + caterpillar. Come on home dis minute.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “I can't take off my shoes at present,” said the veteran. “Well, I must be + going; I feel all right now.” + </p> + <p> + Billy looked at him with big, solemn eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't never go 'thout yo' pants, could you?” he asked, “'cause + Aunt Minerva jest nachelly despises pants.” + </p> + <p> + The man eyed him quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The little boy sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Which you think is the fitteness name,” asked he, “Billy or William.” + </p> + <p> + “Billy, Billy,” enthusiastically came the reply. + </p> + <p> + “I like mens,” said William Green Hill, “I sho' wisht you could come and + live right here with me and Aunt Minerva.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish so, too,” 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> + “Hello! Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “This is Marie Yarbrough,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I sho' will,” screamed the gratified Billy, “if Aunt Minerva'll lemme. + What make you talk so much like Jimmy?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “So's you,” 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> + “How 'd you like to be my sweetheart?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm coming for you to go riding in my little pony and cart,” said a + giggling Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I's going to ask Aunt Minerva to lemme go. Can't we take Jimmy + too?” + </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> + “What you doin', a-listening to me talk to Marie Yarbrough th'oo the + telephone?” he questioned angrily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Say you got 'nough?” he growled from ibis position astride of the other + boy. + </p> + <p> + “I got 'nough, Billy,” repeated Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “Say you sorry you done it.” + </p> + <p> + “I say I sorry I done it,” abjectly repeated the younger child. “Get up, + Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open.” + </p> + <p> + “Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart,” was the + next command. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You got to say it,” insisted the victor, renewing hostilities. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you + telephoning.” + </p> + <p> + “He 'd better never hear tell of it,” 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, “Is my breeches tore, Sam?” + </p> + <p> + “Dey am dat,” was the reply, “dey am busted Fm Dan ter Beersheba.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Nary er needle,” said Sam Lamb. + </p> + <p> + “Is my union suit tore, too?” and Billy again turned his back for + inspection. + </p> + <p> + His friend made a close examination. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could git 'em mended 'fore I goes home,” he said wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Again he turned his back to his friend and, his clouded little face + looking over his shoulder, he asked, “Do my meat show, Sam?” + </p> + <p> + “She am visible ter the naked eye,” and Sam Lamb laughed loudly at his own + wit. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy flushed at the compliment and shifted uneasily in his seat. That + patch seemed to burn him. + </p> + <p> + “If God'd jest do His part,” he said darkly, “I wouldn't never git in no + meanness.” + </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> + “William,” she said sharply, “you will break my plates. What is the matter + with you to-night?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Sam Lamb's wife Sukey sho' is a beautiful patcher,” 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> + “Aunt Minerva,” he presently asked, “what sorter patches 'd you ruther + wear on yo' pants, blue patches or brown?” + </p> + <p> + “On my what?” she asked, looking at him severely over her paper. + </p> + <p> + “I mean if you's me,” he hastily explained. “Don't you think blue patches + is the mos' nat'ral lookin'?” + </p> + <p> + “What are you driving at, William?” 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, + “Aunt Minerva?” + </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> + “Aunt Minerva, I snagged—Aunt Minerva, I snagged my—my skin, + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see the place,” she said absently, her eyes glued to a paragraph + describing a cannibal feast. + </p> + <p> + “I's a-settin' on it right now,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Another long silence ensued. Billy resolved to settle the matter. + </p> + <p> + “I's gettin' sleepy,” he yawned. “Aunt Minerva, I wants to say my prayers + and go to bed.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Have some candy?” said Miss Cecilia, offering a big box of bonbons to + Billy, who was visiting her. + </p> + <p> + “Where 'd you git 'em?” he asked, as he helped himself generously. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice sent them to me this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Billy put all his candy back into the box. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I love you dearly,” 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> + “Is you in love with that red-headed Maurice Richmond an' jes' a-foolin' + o' me?” 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> + “Now, honey, you mustn't be silly,” she said gently, “you are my own, + dear, little sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Who give you that ring?” he asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “A little bird brought it to me,” she said, trying to speak gayly, and + blushing again. + </p> + <p> + “A big, red-headed peckerwood,” said Billy savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Maurice loves you, too,”—she hoped to conciliate him; “he says you + are the brightest kid in town.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Say, does you kiss him like you does me?” he asked presently, looking up + at her with serious, unsmiling face. + </p> + <p> + She hid her embarrassment in a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be foolish, Billy,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet he's kissed you more 'n fifty hunderd times.” + </p> + <p> + “There's Jimmy whistling for you,” said Miss Cecilia. “How do you two boys + make that peculiar whistle? I would recognize it anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he ever kiss you yet?” asked the child. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that you and Jimmy whipped Ed Brown because he imitated your own + particular whistle. Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “How many times is he kiss you?” asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + The young girl put her arm around him and tried to nestle his little body + against her own. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “An' let you have Maurice!” he sneered. + </p> + <p> + She stooped to lay her flushed cheek against his own. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed her roughly from him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The Major—he's mos' plump enough for two,” said Billy, taking down + the stays and trying to hook them around him. + </p> + <p> + “It sho' is big,” he said; “I berlieve it's big 'nough to go 'round both + of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Le's see if 'tain't,” 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> + “We're like the twinses what was growed together like mama read me 'bout,” + declared the younger child. + </p> + <p> + Presently they began to feel uncomfortable, especially Jimmy, whose fat, + round little middle was tightly compressed. + </p> + <p> + “Here, unhook this thing, Billy, and le's take her off,” he said. “I'm + 'bout to pop open.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” 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> + “I can't get these-here hooks to come loose,” 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> + “We sho' is in a fix,” said Billy gloomily; “look like God all time + lettin' us git in trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Billy all time—” began Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's dead, Sarah Jane?” asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the torrent of her + wrath. + </p> + <p> + “Sis' Mary Ellen's las' husban', Brudder Littlejohn—dat 's a-who,” + she replied, somewhat mollified at his interest. + </p> + <p> + “When did he die?”—Jimmy pursued his advantage. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah Jane stopped for breath and Billy hastened to inquire, + </p> + <p> + “Who else is dead, Sarah Jane?” + </p> + <p> + “'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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “Don't you all wish you could see Mrs. Brown's new twinses?” was his + greeting as he took his seat by Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Where'd she get 'em?” asked Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Sanford tooken 'em to her last night.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he'd bringed 'em to my mama,” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” questioned Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we can see 'em?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Look like God 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies,” remarked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought angels jes' clam' the golden stair and play they harps,” said + Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia's wedding,” said Frances, + after a short silence. + </p> + <p> + “I'll betcher I'll be the cutest kid in that church,” boasted Jimmy + conceitedly. “You coming, ain't you, Billy?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why wouldn't you be a page, Billy?” asked Lina. + </p> + <p> + “'Cause I didn't hafto,” was the snappish reply. + </p> + <p> + “I bet my mama give her the finest present they is,” bragged the smaller + boy; “I reckon it cost 'bout a million dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother gave her a handsome cut-glass vase,” said Lina. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like Doctor Sanford would've give Miss Cecilia those twinses for + a wedding present,” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?” asked Lina, + noticing for the first time a lonely-looking child. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he's a beautiful little boy,” championed Lina. “Call him over + here, Jimmy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He sho' do look lonesome,” said Billy; “'vite him over, Jimmy.” + </p> + <p> + “Leon!” screamed his cousin, “you can come over here if you wantta.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Introduce me, please,” said the elegant little city boy. + </p> + <p> + “Interduce your grandma's pussy cats,” mocked Jimmy. “Set down, I tell + you.” + </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> + “I am Lina Hamilton,” said the little girl on his right. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to treat you like he + does.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + Leon could stand it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm no more scared 'n nothing,” and indignant Frances hurled at his back, + “you're just scared yourself.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't kiss him to save his life,” declared Frances; “he's got the + spindliest legs I ever saw.” + </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 “Fox and Geese.” Running + around the house they spied the ladder and saw no owner to deny them. + </p> + <p> + “Le's clam' up and get on top the porch,” suggested Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Minerva'll put me to bed if I do,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Mother'll make me learn a whole page of the catechism if I climb a + ladder,” said Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't neverpromise not to clam' no ladder but—” Billy hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare you to climb this ladder,” responded an accommodating Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't we have fun?” cried a jubilant Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Jimmy; “if grown folks don't all time be watching you and + sticking theirselfs in your way.” + </p> + <p> + “If people would let us alone,” remarked Lina, “we could enjoy ourselves + every day.” + </p> + <p> + “But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time,” cried Jimmy, + “they don't never want us to play together.” + </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> + “Will it wash off?” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The children looked at each other in consternation when they perceived + their loss. + </p> + <p> + “What we goin' to do now?” asked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't, neither.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's Miss Minerva's house and she's your aunt and we's your company + and you got to be 'sponsible.” + </p> + <p> + “I can clam' down this-here post,” said the responsible party. + </p> + <p> + “I can climb down it, too,” seconded Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We can holla,” was Lina's suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to bring his + ladder back. Y' all wait up here.” + </p> + <p> + Billy's solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they were soon + released from their elevated prison. + </p> + <p> + “I might as well go home and be learning the catechism,” groaned Lina. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to get right in the closet soon's I get to my house,” said + Frances. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “What are you doing with your shoes on, William?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Billy glanced nonchalantly at her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I just believe you won't. Go take them off at once and hurry back to your + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme jest wait tell I eats,” he begged, hoping to postpone the evil hour + of exposure. + </p> + <p> + “No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva spied the paint the instant he made his second entrance and + immediately inquired, “How did you get that paint on your feet?” + </p> + <p> + The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at her with his + sweet, attractive, winning smile. + </p> + <p> + “Paint pertec's little boys' feets,” he said, “an' keeps 'em f'om gittin' + hurted, Aunt Minerva, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her undivided + attention. + </p> + <p> + “You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William; now tell me + all about it. Are you afraid of me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Let's us play chain-gang,” suggested Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “Where we goin' to git a chain?” queried Billy; “'t won't be no fun 'thout + a lock an' chain.” + </p> + <p> + “I can get the lock and chain off 'm Sarah Jane's cabin.” + </p> + <p> + “Yo' mama don't 'low you to go to her cabin,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “My mama don't care if I just borra a lock and chain; so I 'm going to get + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to be the perlice of the gang,” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Perlice nothing. You all time talking 'bout you going to be the perlice,” + scoffed Jimmy. “I'm going to be the perlice myself.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “We must decide what crimes they have committed,” said Lina. + </p> + <p> + “Frances done got 'rested fer shootin' craps an' Jimmy done got 'rested + fer 'sturbin' public worship,” said the other boss. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “All right,” agreed Lina. “Get the key, Billy, and we'll be the + chain-gang.” + </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> + “I berlieve y' all done los' that key,” concluded he. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it dropped on the ground,” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + They searched the yard over, but the key was not to be found. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Lina grew indignant. + </p> + <p> + “You proposed this yourself, Jimmy Garner,” she said; “we never would have + thought of playing chain-gang but for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like we can't never do anything at all,” moaned Frances, “'thout + grown folks 've got to know 'bout it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't never hear tell of a pole-cat grinnin',” corrected Billy, “he + jes' smell worser 'n what a billy goat do.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Chessy cats that grin,” explained Lina. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You can't wear a pole-cat roun' yo' nake,” grinned Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What I got to unlock it with?” 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> + “Lordee! Lordee! Y' all sho' is de outlandishest kids 'twixt de Bad Place + an' de moon.” + </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> + “Don't you come near me,” screamed Billy, sauntering slowly and + deliberately toward the dividing fence; “keep way f'om me; they's + ketchin'.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter,” he inquired, “you got the toothache?” + </p> + <p> + “Toothache!” was the scornful echo, “well, I reckon not. Git back; don't + you tech 'em; you ain't ol' 'nough to have 'em.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they easy to ketch?” asked the other little boy eagerly; “lemme jest + tech 'em one time, Billy.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you five peewees if you'll lemme tech 'em so 's I can get 'em,” + pleaded the younger boy. + </p> + <p> + Billy hesitated. “You mighty little—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “And my stoney,” said the other child eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy grew angry. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy eyed him critically. + </p> + <p> + “If you was ol'—” he was beginning. + </p> + <p> + Jimmy thought he saw signs of his yielding. + </p> + <p> + “And I'll give you my china egg, too,” he quickly proposed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Ikey Rosenstein at this moment was spied by the two little boys as he was + Walking jauntily by the gate. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Ikey had promptly stopped at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “What'll you take, Billy, to lemme get 'em?” he asked, his commercial + spirit at once aroused. + </p> + <p> + “What'll you gimme?” 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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Don't tech 'em,” he commanded, waving them off as he leaned gracefully + against the fence. + </p> + <p> + “I teched 'em,” boasted the younger boy. “What'll you all give us if we Il + let you put your finger on 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a-goin' to charge little girls nothin',” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The negro boy dismounted and hitched his horse to the fence. “I gotter + little tarrapim—” 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 “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?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva looked at him severely. + </p> + <p> + “William,” she enjoined, “don't you want to be a smart man when you grow + up?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied his flattered and gratified relative, “call him + over.” + </p> + <p> + Billy went to the fence, where he signaled Jimmy to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy's aunt was growing impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Come, William,” she called. “I am waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy went back to his own porch and the other boy joined his kinswoman. + </p> + <p> + “Why wouldn't Jimmy come?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He—he ain't feeling very well,” was the considerate rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + “Once there was a little boy who was born in Virginia—” began Miss + Minerva. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I can not tell a lie, I did it with my little hatchet,—” + read the thin, monotonous voice at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Billy laughed aloud—at that minute Jimmy was standing on his head + waving two chubby feet in the air. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </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> + “Leaving his camp fires burning to deceive the enemy, he stole around by a + circuitous route, fell upon the British and captured—” + </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> + “The suffering at Valley Forge had been intense during the winter—” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And he was chosen the first president of the United States.” + </p> + <p> + Billy put his hands to his ears and wriggled his fingers at Jimmy, who + promptly returned the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “He had no children of his own, so he is called the Father of his + Country.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva closed the book, turned to the little boy at her side, and + asked: + </p> + <p> + “Who was this great and good man, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Jesus,” was his ready answer, in an appropriately solemn little voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why, William Green Hill!” she exclaimed in disgust. “What are you + thinking of? I don't believe you heard one word that I read.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Jesus!” his aunt was saying, “born in Virginia and first president of the + United States!” + </p> + <p> + “George Washin'ton, I aimed to say,” 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> + “Come on over,” invited Jimmy. + </p> + <p> + “All right; I believe I will,” responded Billy, running to the fence. His + aunt's peremptory voice arrested his footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “William, come here!” she called from the porch. + </p> + <p> + He reluctantly retraced his steps. + </p> + <p> + “I am going back to the kitchen to bake a cake and I want you to promise + me not to leave the yard.” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme jes' go over to Jimmy's a little while,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy sullenly gave her the promise and she went back to her baking. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Naw; I promis' her not to an' I ain't ever goin' to break my promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Mr. Promiser,” said Jimmy, “go get your ball and we'll th'ow + 'cross the fence. I can't find mine.” + </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> + “Look, Jimmy,” he yelled, “here's a baseball mask I found in the closet.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Bustle?” echoed Billy, “What's a bustle?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm coming, ain't I?” scowled the little boy. “Mama needn't to know + nothing 'thout you tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you take yo' mama's present now, Jimmy?” asked Billy; “you ain't + earnt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you?” asked Jimmy, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Naw, I would n't, not 'thout I tol' her.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Lemme see yo' dog,” said the former. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't he cute?” said the latter. + </p> + <p> + The little darkey picked up the dog and passed it across the gate. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got but a nickel. Billy, ain't you got 'nough money to put with + my nickel to make a dollar?” + </p> + <p> + “Naw; I ain't got a red cent.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Ain't he sweet?” said Jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close to his + breast, “we got to name him, Billy.” + </p> + <p> + “Le's name her Peruny Pearline,” was the suggestion of the other joint + owner. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Peruny! Here, Peruny!” 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> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you all hear what Miss Larrimore, who teaches the little children at + school, said about us?” asked Lina importantly. + </p> + <p> + “Naw,” they chorused, “what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She is the spitefullest woman they is,” Jimmy's black eyes snapped; “she + 'bout the meddlesomest teacher in that school.” + </p> + <p> + “Who telled you 'bout it, Lina?” questioned the other little girl. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I bet we can squelch her,” cried Frances, vindictively. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Alfred Gage went to school to her last year,” said Frances, “and he can + read and write.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” joined in Jimmy, “and he 'bout the proudest boy they is; all time + got to write his name all over everything.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence, broken by Billy, who remarked, apropos of + nothing: + </p> + <p> + “I sho' is glad I don't hafter be a 'oman when I puts on long pants, mens + is heap mo' account.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't be a woman for nothing at all,” Jimmy fully agreed with him; + “they have the pokiest time they is.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How they goin' to play the guitar with they other knee?” asked the + practical Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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.”' + </p> + <p> + “Look like he'd 'a' wore his breeches out,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Billy's eyes sparkled with appreciation. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “We'll see Sam Lamb toreckly,” whispered Jimmy, “and he'll + take care of us.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But Sam,” protested Billy, “We don't want to go back home. We wants to go + to Memphis.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “William! You William!” called one woman. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmee-ee! O Jimmee-ee-ee!” called the other. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen my nephew?” asked the one. + </p> + <p> + “No. Have you seen anything of Jimmy?” was the reply of the other. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll ring up Mrs. Black and Mrs. Hamilton. They may have gone to see + Lina or Frances.” + </p> + <p> + In a short time both women appeared on their porches again: + </p> + <p> + “They have not been to the stable this morning,” said Miss Minerva + uneasily, “and Sam went to Memphis on the excursion train.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva's face blazed with indignation. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The telegram came. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “The trouble with Billy—” he began, adjusting his steps to Miss + Minerva's mincing walk. + </p> + <p> + “William,” she corrected, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The color mounted to Miss Minerva's face. + </p> + <p> + “I don't have to be an old maid,” she snapped spunkily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We?” she echoed faintly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minerva looked at him in fluttering consternation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, not to-morrow,” she protested; “possibly next year some time.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “We will be married to-morrow and—” + </p> + <p> + “Next month,” she suggested timidly. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “Next week,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! To-morrow! To-morrow!” cried the Major, happy as a schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + “Next Sunday night after church,” pleaded Miss Minerva. + </p> + <p> + “No, not next Sunday or Monday or Tuesday. We will be married to-morrow,” + declared the dictatorial Confederate veteran. + </p> + <p> + Billy's aunt succumbed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Joseph,” she said with almost a simper, “you are so masterful.” + </p> + <p> + “How would you like me for an uncle?” Miss Minerva's affianced asked Billy + a few minutes later. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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, “Your aunt Minerva is going to marry me to-morrow, Billy.” + </p> + <p> + “Pants an' all?” 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA *** + +***** This file should be named 5187-h.htm or 5187-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/8/5187/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA *** + +***** This file should be named 5187.txt or 5187.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/8/5187/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +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] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +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 + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS MINERVA *** + +This file should be named mmwgh10.txt or mmwgh10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, mmwgh11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mmwgh10a.txt + + + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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