[Illustration: "I reckon the thing sort o' got started last summer. "]

SONNY, A CHRISTMAS GUEST

BY RUTH McENERY STUART

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FANNY Y. CORY

1911

TO MY SON STIRLING McENERY STUART

CONTENTS

 A Christmas Guest

 The Boy

 Sonny's Christenin'

 Sonny's Schoolin'

 Sonny's Diploma

 Sonny "Keepin' Company"

 Weddin' Presents

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 "I reckon the thing sort o' got started last summer"

 "Seem to me _he_ favors her a little thess aroun' the mouth"

 "Quick ez he see the clock, he come thoo"

 "She does make 'im _so_ contented an' happy"

 "Name this child"

 "An' then Sonny, seein' it all over, he come down"

 "He was watchin' a bird-nest on the way to that school"

 "He had been playin' out o' doors bare-feeted"

 "Any question he missed was to be passed on to them thet had been grad'jatin' so fast"

 "'This orange is the earth, an' this here apple is the sun'"

 "What could be sweeter 'n little Mary Elizabeth?"

 "When I set here by myself on this po'ch so much these days an' think"

 "Seem like a person don't no mo''n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor"

SONNY

A CHRISTMAS GUEST

[Illustration: 'B']

Boy, you say, doctor? An' she don't know it yet? Then what 're youtellin' _me_ for? No, sir--take it away. I don't want to lay my eyeson it till she's saw it--not if I _am_ its father. She's its _mother_, I reckon!

Better lay it down somew'eres an' go to _her_--not there on therockin'-cheer, for somebody to set on--'n' not on the trunk, please. That ain't none o' yo' ord'nary new-born bundles, to be dumped on a boxthat'll maybe be opened sudden d'rec'ly for somethin' needed, an' bedropped ag'in' the wall-paper behind it. 

_It's hers_, whether she knows it or not. _Don't_, for _gracious_ sakes, lay 'im on the _table! Anybody_ knows _that's_ bad luck. 

You think it might bother her on the bed? She's that bad? An' they ain'tno fire kindled in the settin'-room, to lay it in there. 

_S-i-r?_ Well, yas, I--I reck'n I'll _haf_ to hold it, ef you sayso--that is--of co'se--

_Wait_, doctor! _Don't_ let go of it _yet!_ Lordy! but I'm thess _shore_to drop it! Lemme set down _first, doctor_, here by the fire an' githet th'ugh. Not yet! My ol' shin-bones stan' up thess like a pair o'dog-irons. Lemme bridge 'em over first 'th somethin' soft. That'll do. She patched that quilt herself. Hold on a minute, 'tel I git the aidgesof it under my ol' boots, to keep it f'om saggin' down in the middle. 

There, now! Merciful goodness, but I never! I'd rather trus' myself witha whole playin' fountain in blowed glass'n sech ez this. 

Stoop down there, doctor, please, sir, an' shove the end o' this quilta leetle further under my foot, won't you? Ef it was to let up sudden, I wouldn't have no more lap 'n what any other fool man's got. 

'N' now--you go to _her_. 

I'd feel a heap safeter ef this quilt was nailed to the flo' on eachside o'my legs. They're trimblin' so I dunno what minute my feet'll letgo their holt. 

An' she don't know it yet! An' he layin' here, dressed up in all thelittle clo'es she sewed! She mus' be purty bad. I dunno, though; maybethat's gen'ally the way. 

They're keepin' mighty still in that room. Blessed ef I don't begin tofeel 'is warmth in my ol' knee-bones! An' he's a-breathin' thess ezreg'lar ez that clock, on'y quicker. Lordy! An' she don't know it yet!An' he a boy! He taken that after the Joneses; we've all been boys inour male branch. When that name strikes, seem like it comes to stay. Now for a girl--

Wonder if he ain't covered up mos' too close-t. Seem like he snufflespurty loud--for a beginner. 

Doctor! _oh_, doctor! I say, _doctor!_

Strange he don't hear--'n' I don't like to holler no louder. Wonderef she could be worse? Ef I could thess reach somethin' to knock with!I daresn't lif' my foot, less'n the whole business'd fall through. 

Oh, doc'! Here he comes now--_Doctor_, I say, don't you think maybe he'scovered up too--

How's _she_, doctor? "Thess the same, " you say? 'n' she don't knowyet--about him? "In a couple o' hours, " you say? Well, don't lemme keepyou, doctor. But, tell me, don't you think maybe he's covered up aleetle too close-t?

That's better. An' now I've saw him befo' she did! An' I didn't want to, neither. 

Poor leetle, teenchy, weenchy bit of a thing! Ef he ain't the _very_littlest! Lordy, Lordy, Lor_dy!_ But I s'pose all thet's needed in ababy is a startin'-p'int big enough to hol' the fam'ly ch'racteristics. I s'pose maybe he is, but the po' little thing mus' feel sort o'scrouged with 'em, ef he's got 'em all--the Joneses' an' the Simses'. Seem to me he favors her a little thess aroun' the mouth. 

An' she don't know it yet!

[Illustration: "Seem to me _he_ favors her a little thess aroun' themouth. "]

Lord! But my legs ache like ez if they was bein' wrenched off. I've got'em on sech a strain, somehow. An' he on'y a half hour ol', an' twohours mo' 'fo' I can budge! Lord, Lord! how _will_ I stand it!

_God bless 'im!_ Doc! He's a-sneezin'! Come quick! Shore ez I'm here, he snez twice-t!

Don't you reckon you better pile some mo' wood on the fire an'--

What's that you say? "Fetch 'im along"? An' has she ast for 'im? Blessthe Lord! I say. But a couple of you 'll have to come help me loosen up'fo' I can stir, doctor. 

Here, you stan' on that side the quilt, whiles I stir my foot to theflo' where it won't slip--an' Dicey--where's that nigger Dicey? YouDicey, come on here, an' tromp on the other side o' this bedquilt tillI h'ist yo' young marster up on to my shoulder. 

No, you don't take 'im, neither. I'll tote 'im myself. 

Now, go fetch a piller till I lay 'im on it. That's it. And now gitme somethin' stiff to lay the piller on. There! That lapboa'd 'll do. Why didn't I think about that befo'? It's a heap safeter 'n my oleknee-j'ints. Now, I've got 'im secure. _Wait_, doctor--hold on! I'mafeered you 'll haf to ca'y 'im in to her, after all. I'll cry ef I doit. I'm trimblin' like ez ef I had a'ager, thess a-startin' in with'im--an seein' me give way might make her nervious. You take 'im to her, and lemme come in sort o' unconcerned terreckly, after she an' him'vekind o' got acquainted. Dast you hold 'im that-a-way, doctor, 'thout nosupport to 'is spinal colume? I s'pose he _is_ too sof' to snap, butI wouldn't resk it. Reckon I can slip in the other do' where she won'tsee me, an' view the meetin'. 

Yas; I 'm right here, honey! (The idea o' her a-callin' for me--an'_him_ in 'er arms!) I 'm right here, honey--_mother!_ Don't min' mea-cryin'! I'm all broke up, somehow; but don't you fret. I 'm right hereby yo' side on my knees, in pure thankfulness. 

Bless His name, I say! You know he's a boy, don't yer? I been a holdin''im all day--'t least ever sence they dressed 'im, purty nigh a' hourago. An' he's slep'--an' waked up--an' yawned--an' snez--an' wunk--an'sniffed--'thout me sayin' a word. Opened an' shet his little fist, once-t, like ez ef he craved to shake hands, howdy! He cert'n'y doesperform 'is functions wonderful. 

Yas, doctor; I'm a-comin', right now. 

Go to sleep now, honey, you an' him, an' I'll be right on the spot whenneeded. Lemme whisper to her thess a minute, doctor?

I thess want to tell you, honey, thet you never, even in yo' young days, looked ez purty to my eyes ez what you do right now. An' that boy is_yo' boy_, an' I ain't a-goin' to lay no mo' claim to 'im 'n to see thetyou have yo' way with 'im--you hear? An' now good night, honey, an' goto sleep. 

 * * * * *

They wasn't nothin' lef for me to do but to come out here in this ol'woodshed where nobody wouldn't see me ac' like a plumb baby. 

An' now, seem like I _can't_ git over it! The idee o' me, fifty yearol', actin' like this!

An' she knows it! An' she's got 'im--_a boy_--layin' in the bed'longside 'er. 

"Mother an' child doin' well!" Lord, Lord! How often I've heerd thatsaid! But it never give me the all-overs like it does now, some way. 

Guess I'll gether up a' armful o' wood, an' try to act unconcerned--an'laws-a-mercy me! Ef--to-day--ain't--been--Christmas! My! my! my! An' itcome an' gone befo' I remembered!

I'll haf to lay this wood down ag'in _an' think_. 

I've had many a welcome Christmas gif' in my life, but the idee o' thegood Lord a-timin' _this_ like that!

Christmas! An' a boy! An' she doin' well!

No wonder that ol' turkey-gobbler sets up on them rafters blinkin' at meso peaceful! He knows he's done passed a critical time o' life. 

You've done crossed another bridge safe-t, ol' gobbly, an' you can_afford_ to blink--an' to set out in the clair moonlight, 'stid o'roostin' back in the shadders, same ez you been doin'. 

You was to 've died by ax-ident las' night, but the new visitor thet'sdropped in on us ain't cut 'is turkey teeth yet, an' his mother--

Lord, how that name sounds! Mother! I hardly know 'er by it, long ezI been tryin' to fit it to 'er--an' fearin' to, too, less'n somethin'might go wrong with either one. 

I even been callin' him "it" to myself all along, so 'feerd thet ef Iset my min' on either the "he" or the "she" the other one might take anotion to come--an' I didn't want any disappointment mixed in with thearrival. 

But now he's come, --_an'_ registered, ez they say at the polls, --I knowI sort o' counted on the boy, some way. 

Lordy! but he's little! Ef he hadn't 'a' showed up so many of hisfunctions spontaneous, I'd be oneasy less'n he mightn't have 'em; butthey're there! Bless goodness, they're there!

An' he snez prezac'ly, for all the world, like my po' ol' pap--a reg'larlittle cat sneeze, thess like all the Joneses. 

Well, Mr. Turkey, befo' I go back into the house, I'm a-goin' to makeyou a solemn promise. 

You go free till about this time next year, _anyhow_. You an' me'llcelebrate the birthday between ourselves with that contrac'. You needn'tgit oneasy Thanksgivin', or picnic-time, or Easter, or no other time'twixt this an' nex' Christmas--less'n, of co'se, you stray off an' gitstole. 

An' this here reprieve, I want you to understand, is a present from thejunior member of this firm. 

Lord! but I'm that tickled! This here wood ain't much needed in thehouse, --the wood-boxes 're all full, --but I can't _de_vise no otherexcuse for vacatin'--thess at this time. 

S'pose I _might_ gether up some eggs out 'n the nestes, but it'd looksort o' flighty to go egg-huntin' here at midnight--an' he not two hoursol'. 

I dunno, either, come to think; she might need a new-laid egg--sofb'iled. Reckon I'll take a couple in my hands--an' one or two sticks o'wood--an' I'll draw a bucket o' water too--an' tote _that_ in. 

Goodness! but this back yard is bright ez day! Goin' to be a clair, coolnight--moon out, full an' white. Ef _this ain't the stillest_ stillness!

Thess sech a night, for all the world, I reckon, ez the first Christmas, when He come--

 When shepherds watched their flocks by night, All seated on the ground, The angel o' the Lord come down, An' glory shone around--

thess like the hymn says. 

The whole o' this back yard is full o' glory this minute. Th' ain'tnothin' too low down an' mean for it to shine on, neither--not even thewell-pump or the cattle-trough--'r the pig-pen--or even me. 

Thess look at me, covered over with it! An' how it does shine on theroof o' the house where they lay--her an' him!

I suppose that roof has shined that-a-way frosty nights 'fo' to-night;but some way I never seemed to see it. 

Don't reckon the creakin' o' this windlass could disturb her--or him. 

Reckon I might go turn a little mo' cotton-seed in the troughs for themcows--an' put some extry oats out for the mules an' the doctor'smare--an' onchain Rover, an' let 'im stretch 'is legs a little. I'd likeeverything on the place to know _he's_ come, an' to feel the diff'ence. 

Well, now I'll load up--an' I do hope nobody won't notice the_re_dic'lousness of it. 

You say she's asleep, doctor, an' th' ain't nothin' mo' needed to bedid--an' yo' 're goin'!

Don't, for gracious sakes! go, doctor, an' leave me! I wont know what ontop o' the round earth to do, ef--ef--You know she--she might wakeup--or he!

You say Dicey she knows. But she's on'y a nigger, doctor. Yes; I knowshe's had exper'ence with the common run o' babies, but--

Lemme go an' set down this bucket, an' lay this stick o' wood on thefire, an' put these eggs down, so's I can talk to you free-handed. 

Step here to the do', doctor. I say, doc, ef it's a question o' the sizeo' yo' bill, you can make it out to suit yo'self--or, I'll tell you whatI'll do. You stay right along here a day or so--tell to-morrer or nex'day, anyhow--an' I'll sen' you a whole bale o' cotton--an' you can sen'back any change you see fit--or none--_or none_, I say. Or, ef you'druther take it out in pertaters an' corn an' sorghum, thess say so, an'how much of each. 

But _what_? "It wouldn't be right? Th' ain't no use, " you say? An'you'll _shore_ come back to-morrer? Well. But, by the way, doctor, didyou know to-day was Christmas? Of co'se I might've knew you did--but _I_never. An' now it seems to me like Christmas, an' Fo'th o' July, an'"Hail Columbia, happy lan', " all b'iled down into one big jubilee!

But tell me, doctor, confidential--sh!--step here a leetle furtherback--tell me, don't you think he's to say a leetle bit undersized?Speak out, ef he is. 

Wh--how'd you say? "Mejum, " eh? Thess mejum! An' they do come evenlittler yet? An' you say mejum babies're thess ez liable to turn outlikely an' strong ez over-sizes, eh? Mh-hm! Well, I reckon you_know_--an' maybe the less they have to contend with at the start thebetter. 

Oh, thanky, doctor! Don't be afeered o' wrenchin' my wris'! A thousandthankies! Yo' word for it, he's a fine boy! An' you've inspected a goodmany, an' of co'se you know--yas, yas! Shake ez hard ez you like--up an'down--up an' down!

An' now I'll go git yo' horse--an' don't ride 'er too hard to-night, 'cause I've put a double po'tion of oats in her trough awhile ago. Thejunior member he give instructions that everything on the place was tohave a' extry feed to-night--an' of co'se I went and obeyed orders. 

Now--'fo' you start, doctor--I ain't got a thing stronger 'n raspberrycorjal in the house--but ef you'll drink a glass o' that with me? (Ofco'se he will!)

She made this 'erself, doctor--picked the berries an' all--an' I raisedthe little sugar thet's in it. Well, good-night, doctor! To-morrer, shore!

Sh-h!

How that do'-latch does click! Thess like thunder!

Sh-h! Dicey, you go draw yo' pallet close-t outside the do', an' laydown--an' I'll set here by the fire an' keep watch. 

How my ol' stockin'-feet do tromp! Do lemme hurry an' set down! Seemlike this room's awful rackety, the fire a-poppin' an' tumblin', an'me breathin' like a porpoise. Even the clock ticks ez excited ez Ifeel. Wonder how they sleep through it all! But they do. He beats hera-snorin' a'ready, blest ef he don't! Wonder ef he knows he's born intothe world, po' little thing! I reckon not; but they's no tellin'. Maybethat's the one thing the good Lord gives 'em _to_ know, so's they'llrealize what to begin to study about--theirselves an' the world--how tofight it an' keep friends with it at the same time. Ef I could gigglean' sigh both at once-t, seem like I'd be relieved. Somehow I feel sorto' tight 'roun' the heart--an' wide awake an'--

How that clock _does_ travel--an' how they all keep time, he--an'she--an' it--an' me--an' the fire roa'in' up the chimbley, playin' atune all around us like a' organ, an' he--an' she--an' he--an' it--an'he--an'--

Blest ef I don't hear singing--an' how white the moonlight is! They'sangels all over the house---an' their robes is breshin' the roof whilstthey sing--

His head had fallen. He was dreaming. 

[Illustration]

THE BOY

[Illustration: 'H']

Here's the doctor, now! Hello, Doc, come right in! Here's yo' patient, settin' up on the po'ch, big ez life; but when we sent for you thismornin' it seemed thess hit an' miss whether he'd come thoo or not. 

Thess the same sort o' spells he's had all along, doctor, --seems youcan't never see 'im in one, --all brought on by us a-crossin' 'im. Hisgran'ma insisted on hidin' the clock when he wanted it; but I reckonshe'll hardly resk it ag'in, she's that skeert. He's been settin' on theflo' there thess the way you see 'im now, with that clock in his lap, all mornin'. 

Of co'se it thess took him about ten minutes to bu'st all the littlethings his gran'ma give him to play with, 'n' then he nachelly calledfor the clock; 'n' when she wasn't forthcomin' _immejate_, why, he thessstiffened out in a spell. 

Of co'se we put the timepiece into his hands quick ez we could onclinch'em, an' sent for you. But quick ez he see the clock, he come thoo. Butyou was already gone for, then. 

His gran'ma she got considerable fretted because he's broke off the longhan' o' the clock; but I don't see much out o' the way about that. Ef aperson thess remembers thet the long han' is the short han'--why, 'tain't no trouble. 

An' she does make 'im _so_ contented an' happy! Thess look at his face, now! What is the face-vally of a clock, I like to know, compared tothat?

[Illustration: "Quick ez he see the clock, he come thoo. "]

But of co'se the ol' lady she's gettin' on in years, and then she'smy wife's mother, which makes her my _di_rec' mother-in-law; an' soI'm slow to conterdic' anything she says, an' I guess her idees o'regulatin' childern--not to say clocks--is sort o' diff'rent to wife'san' mine. She goes in for reg'lar dis_cip_line, same ez she got an'survived in her day; an' of co'se, ez Sonny come to her ez gran'son thesame day he was born to us ez plain son, we never like to lift ourvoices ag'in anything she says. 

She loves him thess ez well ez we do, only on a diff'rent plan. She givehim the only spankin' he's ever had--an' the only silver cup. 

Even wife an' me we had diff'rent idees on the subjec' o' Sonny'sraisin'; but somehow, in all our ca'culations, we never seemed torealize that _he'd_ have idees. 

Why, that two-year-old boy settin' there regulatin' that clock warn't nomo' 'n to say a pink spot on the piller 'fo' he commenced to set fo'thhis idees, and he ain't never backed down on no principle thet he setfo'th, to this day. 

For example, wife an' me, why, we argued back an' fo'th consider'ble onthe subjec' of his meal-hours, ez you might say, she contendin' forpromiskyus refreshment an' me for schedule time. 

This, of co'se, was thess _proj_eckin' 'fo' the new boa'der ac-chillyarrived, He not bein' here yet, we didn't have much to do _but_speculate about him. Lookin' back'ards now, it seems to me wecouldn't'a' had nothin' to do, day or night, 'fo' he come. 

But, ez I was sayin', she was for meals at all hours, an' I was for thetwenty-minutes-for-refreshment plan, an' we discussed it consider'ble, me always knowin', but never lettin' on, thet of co'se she, havin' whatyou might call a molopoly on the restaurant, could easy have things herown way, ef she'd choose. 

But, sir, from the time he looked over that bill o' fare an' put hisfinger on what he'd have, _an' when_, that boy ain't never failed tocall for it, an' get it, day 'r night. 

But, talkin' 'bout the clock, it did seem funny for him to keep hergoin' 'thout no key. 

But somehow he'd work it thet that alarm 'd go off in the dead hours o'night, key or no key, an' her an' me we'd jump out o' bed like ez ef wewas shot; and do you b'lieve thet that baby, not able to talk, an'havin' on'y half 'is teeth, he ain't never failed to wake up an' roa'out a-laughin' ever' time that clock 'd go off in the night!

Why, sir, it's worked on me so, sometimes, thet I've broke out in a col'sweat, an' set up the balance o' the night--an' I ain't to sayhigh-strung, neither. 

No, sir, we ain't never named 'im yet. Somehow, we don't seem to be ableto confine ourselves to no three or four names for 'im, for so we thessdecided to let it run along so--he thess goin' by the name o' "Sonny"tell sech a time ez he sees fit to name 'isself. 

Of co'se I sort o' ca'culate on him takin' the "Junior, " an' lettin' metack a capital "S" an' a little "r" to my name 'fo' I die; which wouldnachelly call attention to him _di_rec' eve'y time I'd sign mysignature. 

Deuteronomy Jones ain't to say a purty name, maybe; but it'sscriptu'al--so far ez my parents could make it. Of co'se theJones--well, they couldn't help that no mo' 'n I can help it, or Sonny, _or his junior_, thet, of co'se, may never be called on to appear in theflesh, Sonny not bein' quite thoo with his stomach-teeth yet, an' bein'subject to croup, both of which has snapped off many a fam'ly tree foreto-day. But I reckon the Joneses ain't suffered much that a-way. I doubtef any of 'em has ever left 'thout passin' the name on--not knowin'positive, but thess _jedgin'_. None o' mine ain't, I _know_, leastwisenone of my _di_rec' ancestors--they couldn't have, an' me here, an'Sonny. 

_Don't_ jump, doctor! That's the supper-bell. 'Tis purty loud, butthat's on account o' my mother-in-law. She's stone-deef--can't hearthunder; but I told wife thet I thought we owed it to her to do the bestwe could to reach her, and I had that bell made a-purpose. 

Now, some men they'd slight a mother-in-law like that, an' maybe ring adummy at her; but that's thess where I differ. I don't forget where Iget my benefits, an' ef it hadn't 'a' been for her, the family circle o'Deuteronomy Jones would be quite diff'rent to what it is. She's handeddown some of Sonny's best traits to him, too. 

I don't say she give him his hearin', less'n she give 'm all shehad--which, of co'se, I'm thess a-jokin', which is a sin, an' herstone-deef, and Sonny thess come thoo a death-spell!

Me havin' that extry sized bell made thess out of respects to hertickled her mightily. 

Come along, Sonny! He heerd the bell, an' he knows what it means. That'sright--fetch the clock along. 

Sonny's cheer is toler'ble low, an' he's took a notion to set on theclock mealtimes. I thess lay 'er face down'ards in his cheer, 'n' Idon't know ez it hurts her any; 'n' then it saves the dictionary, too. 

She did strike that a-way one day, and Sonny was so tickled he purtynear choked on a batter-cake, he laughed so. He has broke sev'ralcasters tryin' to jostle her into doin' it again, but somehow she won't. Seem like a clock kin be about ez contrary ez anything else, once't gither back up. 

He got so worked up over her not strikin' that a-way one day thet hestiffened out in a spell, then an' there. 

You say they ain't apt to be fatal, doctor--them spells!

Well--but you ain't never saw him in one yet. They're reg'lardeath-spells, doctor. 

Tell you the truth, they was the 'casion of us j'inin' the church, themspells was. 

Says I to wife--standin' beside him one day, and he black in theface--says I, "Wife, " says I, "I reckon you an' me better try to livemo' righteously 'n what we've been doin', or he'll be took from us. "An', sir, the very nex' communion we both up an' perfessed. An' Istarted sayin' grace at table, an' lef' off the on'y cuss-word I everdid use, which was "durn. " An', maybe I oughtn't to say it, but I missthat word yet. I didn't often call on it, but I always knowed 't wasthere when needed, and it backed me up, somehow--thess the way knowin' Ihad a frock-coat in the press has helped me wear out ol' clo'es. I ain'tnever had on that frock-coat sence I was married in it seventeen yearago; but, sir, ever sence I've knew the moths had chawed it up, th'ain't been a day but I've felt shabby. 

[Illustration: "She does make 'im _so_ contented an' happy. "]

Sir? Yas, sir; we've waited a long time. It's seventeen year, come thisspring, sence we married. Our first child could easy 'a' been sixteenyear ol', 'stid o' two, ef Sonny'd come on time, but he ain't never beenknown to hurry hisself. But it does look like, with seventeen year forreflection, an' nothin' to do but study up other folks's mistakes withtheir childern, we ought to be able to raise him right. Wife an' me wefully agree upon one p'int, 'n' that is, thet mo' childern 'r' sp'iledthoo bein' crossed an' hindered 'n any other way. Why, sir, them we 'vesee' grow up roun' this country hev been fed on daily rations of"dont's!" an' "stops!" an' "quits!"--an' most of 'em brought up by handat that!

An' so, ez I say, we don't never cross Sonny, useless. Of co'se whenhe's been sick we have helt his little nose an' insisted on things; butI reckon we 've made it up to him afterwards, so's he wouldn't take itamiss. 

Oh, yas, sir; he called me "daddy" hisself, 'n' I never learned it tohim, neither. I _was_ layin' out to learn 'im to say "papa" to me, intime; but I 'lowed I 'd hol' back tell he called _her_ name first. Seemed like that was her right, somehow, after all thet had passed'twixt him an' her; an' in all her baby-talk to him I took notice she'dbring the "mama" in constant. 

So of co'se I laid low, hopin' some day he 'd ketch it--an' he did. Hewasn't no mo' 'n 'bout three months ol' when he said it; 'n' then, 'fo'I could ketch my breath, hardly, an put in my claim, what does he do butsquare aroun', an', lookin' at me direc', say "dada!" thess like that. 

There's the secon' bell, doctor. 'Sh! _Don't_ ring no mo', Dicey! We'rea-comin'!

At the first bell the roller-towel an' basin gen'ally holds a reception;but to-day bein' Sunday--

What? Can't stay? But you _must_. Quick ez Sonny come thoo this mornin', wife took to the kitchen, 'cause, she says, says she, "Likely ez not thedoctor 'll miss his dinner on the road, 'n' I 'll turn in with Dicey an'see thet he makes it up on supper. "

"Eat an' run?" Why not, I like to know? Come on out. Wife's at theroller-towel now, and she 'll be here in a minute. 

Come on, Sonny. Let "dada" tote the clock for you. No? Wants to tote 'erhisself? Well, he shall, too. 

But befo' we go out, doc, say that over ag'in, please. 

Yas, I understan'. Quick ez he's took with a spell, you say, th'ow col'water in his face, an' "never min' ef he cries"!

I'll try it, doctor; but, 'twixt me an' you, I doubt ef anybody on thelot'll have the courage to douse 'im. Maybe we might call in somebodypassin', an' git them to do it. But for the rest, --the bath an' themustard, --of co'se it shall be did correct. You see, the trouble hezalways been thet befo' we could git any physic measured out, he comethoo. 

Many's the time that horse hez been saddled to sen' for you befo'to-day. He thess happened to get out o' sight to-day when Sonny seemedto feel the clock in his hands, an' he come thoo 'thout us givin' himanything _but_ the clock--an' it external. 

Walk out, doctor. 

THE CHRISTENIN'

[Illustration: 'Y']

Yas, sir, wife an' me, we've turned 'Piscopals--all on account o' Sonny. He seemed to perfer that religion, an' of co'se we wouldn't have thefamily divided, so we're a-goin' to be ez good 'Piscopals ez we can. 

I reckon it'll come a little bit awkward at first. Seem like I neverwill git so thet I can sass back in church 'thout feelin' sort o'impident--but I reckon I'll chirp up an' come to it, in time. 

I never was much of a hand to sound the amens, even in our own Methodistmeetin's. 

Sir? How old is he? Oh, Sonny's purty nigh six--but he showed apref'ence for the 'Piscopal Church long fo' he could talk. 

When he wasn't no mo' 'n three year old we commenced a-takin' him roundto church wherever they held meetin's, --'Piscopals, Methodists orPresbyterians, --so's he could see an' hear for hisself. I ca'yed himto a baptizin' over to Chinquepin Crik, once-t, when he was three. I thought I'd let him see it done an' maybe it might make a goodimpression; but no, sir! The Baptists didn't suit him! Cried ever'time one was douced, an' I had to fetch him away. In our Methodistmeetin's he seemed to git worked up an' pervoked, some way. An' thePresbyterians, he didn't take no stock in them at all. Ricollect, oneSunday the preacher, he preached a mighty powerful disco'se on thedoctrine o' lost infants not 'lected to salvation--an' Sonny? Why, heslep' right thoo it. 

The first any way lively interest he ever seemed to take in religiousservices was at the 'Piscopals, Easter Sunday. When he seen the liliesan' the candles he thess clapped his little hands, an' time the folkscommenced answerin' back he was tickled all but to death, an' startedanswerin' hisself--on'y, of co'se he 'd answer sort o' hit an' miss. 

I see then thet Sonny was a natu'al-born 'Piscopal, an' we might ez wellmake up our minds to it--an' I told _her_ so, too. They say some is bornso. But we thought we'd let him alone an' let nature take its co'sefor awhile--not pressin' him one way or another. He never had showedno disposition to be christened, an' ever sence the doctor tried tovaccinate him he seemed to git the notion that christenin' an'vaccination was mo' or less the same thing; an' sence that time, he's been mo' opposed to it than ever. 

Sir? Oh no, sir. He didn't vaccinate him; he thess tried to do it; butSonny, he wouldn't begin to allow it. We all tried to indoose 'im. Ioffered him everything on the farm ef he'd thess roll up his littlesleeve an' let the doctor look at his arm--promised him thet he wouldn'ttech a needle to it tell he said the word. But he wouldn't. He 'lowedthet me an' his mama could git vaccinated ef we wanted to, but hewouldn't. 

Then we showed him our marks where we had been vaccinated when we waslittle, an' told him how it had kep' us clair o' havin' the smallpockall our lives. 

Well, sir, it didn't make no diff'ence whether we'd been did befo' ornot, he 'lowed thet he wanted to see us vaccinated ag'in. 

An' so, of co'se, thinkin' it might encour'ge him, we thess had it didover--tryin' to coax him to consent after each one, an' makin' pertendlike we enjoyed it. 

Then, nothin' would do but the nigger, Dicey, had to be did, an' then he'lowed thet he wanted the cat did, an' I tried to strike a bargain withhim thet if Kitty got vaccinated he would. But he wouldn't comp'omise. He thess let on thet Kit had to be did whe'r or no. So I ast the doctoref it would likely kill the cat, an' he said he reckoned not, though itmight sicken her a little. So I told him to go ahead. Well, sir, befo'Sonny got thoo, he had had that cat an' both dogs vaccinated--but let ittech hisself he would not. 

I was mighty sorry not to have it did, 'cause they was a nigger thet hadthe smallpock down to Cedar Branch, fifteen mile away, an' he didn'tdie, neither. He got well. An' they say when they git well they're morefatal to a neighborhood 'n when they die. 

That was fo' months ago now, but to this day ever' time the wind blowsfrom sou'west I feel oneasy, an' try to entice Sonny to play on the farside o' the house. 

Well, sir, in about ten days after that we was the down-in-the-mouthestcrowd on that farm, man an' beast, thet you ever see. Ever' last one o'them vaccinations took, sir, an' took severe, from the cat up. 

But I reckon we 're all safe-t guarded now. They ain't nothin' on theplace thet can fetch it to Sonny, an' I trust, with care, he may neverbe exposed. 

But I set out to tell you about Sonny's christenin' an' us turnin''Piscopal. Ez I said, he never seemed to want baptism, though he hadheard us discuss all his life both it an' vaccination ez the two ordeelsto be gone thoo with some time, an' we'd speculate ez to whethervaccination would take or not, an' all sech ez that, an' then, ezI said, after he see what the vaccination was, why he was even mo'prejudyced agin' baptism 'n ever, an' we 'lowed to let it run on tellsech a time ez he'd decide what name he'd want to take an' whatdenomination he'd want to bestow it on him. 

Wife, she's got some 'Piscopal relations thet she sort o' looks upto, --though she don't own it, --but she was raised Methodist an' I wasraised a true-blue Presbyterian. But when we professed after Sonny comewe went up together at Methodist meetin'. What we was after wasrighteous livin', an' we didn't keer much which denomination helped usto it. 

An' so, feelin' friendly all roun' that-a-way, we thought we'd leaveSonny to pick his church when he got ready, an' then they wouldn't benothin' to undo or do over in case he went over to the 'Piscopals, whichhas the name of revisin' over any other church's performances--thoughsence we've turned 'Piscopals we've found out that ain't so. 

Of co'se the preachers, they used to talk to us about it once-t in awhile, --seemed to think it ought to be did, --'ceptin', of co'se, theBaptists. 

Well, sir, it went along so till last week. Sonny ain't but, ez I said, thess not quite six year old, an' they seemed to be time enough. Butlast week he had been playin' out o' doors bare-feeted, thess same ez healways does, an' he tramped on a pine splinter some way. Of co'se, pine, it's the safe-t-est splinter a person can run into a foot, on accountof its carryin' its own turpentine in with it to heal up things; butany splinter thet dast to push itself up into a little pink foot is amessenger of trouble, an' we know it. An' so, when we see this one, wetried ever' way to coax him to let us take it out, but he wouldn't, ofco'se. He never will, an' somehow the Lord seems to give 'em ambition towork their own way out mos' gen'ally. 

But, sir, this splinter didn't seem to have no energy in it. It thesslodged there, an' his little foot it commenced to swell, an' it swolean' swole tell his little toes stuck out so thet the little pig thetwent to market looked like ez ef it wasn't on speakin' terms with thelittle pig thet stayed home, an' wife an' me we watched it, an' I reckonshe prayed over it consider'ble, an' I read a extry psalm at night befo'I went to bed, all on account o' that little foot. An' night befo' las'it was lookin' mighty angry an' swole, an' he had limped an' "ouched!"consider'ble all day, an' he was mighty fretful bed-time. So, after hewent to sleep, wife she come out on the po'ch where I was settin', andshe says to me, says she, her face all drawed up an' workin', says she:"Honey, " says she, "I reckon we better sen' for him an' have it did. "Thess so, she said it. "Sen' for who, wife?" says I, "an' have whatdid?" "Why, sen' for him, the 'Piscopal preacher, " says she, "an' haveSonny christened. Them little toes o' hisn is ez red ez cherry tomatoes. They burnt my lips thess now like a coal o' fire an'--an' lockjaw isgoin' roun' tur'ble. 

"Seems to me, " says she, "when he started to git sleepy, he didn't gapez wide ez he gen'ly does--an' I'm 'feered he's a-gittin' it now. " An', sir, with that, she thess gathered up her apron an' mopped her face init an' give way. An' ez for me, I didn't seem to have no mo' backbonedown my spinal colume 'n a feather bolster has, I was that weak. 

I never ast her why she didn't sen' for our own preacher. I knowed thenez well ez ef she'd 'a' told me why she done it--all on account o' Sonnybein' so tickled over the 'Piscopals' meetin's. 

It was mos' nine o'clock then, an' a dark night, an' rainin', but Inever said a word--they wasn't no room round the edges o' the lump in mythroat for words to come out ef they'd 'a' been one surgin' up there tosay, which they wasn't--but I thess went out an' saddled my horse an' Irid into town. Stopped first at the doctor's an' sent him out, though Iknowed 't wouldn't do no good; Sonny wouldn't 'low him to tech it; butI sent him out anyway, to look at it, an', ef possible, console wife alittle. Then I rid on to the rector's an' ast him to come out immejatean' baptize Sonny. But nex' day was his turn to preach down at SandyCrik, an' he couldn't come that night, but he promised to come rightafter services nex' mornin'--which he done--rid the whole fo'teen milefrom Sandy Crik here in the rain, too, which I think is a evidence o'Christianity, though no sech acts is put down in my book o' "evidences"where they ought rightfully to be. 

Well, sir, when I got home that night, I found wife a heap cheerfuler. The doctor had give Sonny a big apple to eat an' pernounced him freefrom all symptoms o' lockjaw. But when I come the little feller hadcrawled 'way back under the bed an' lay there, eatin' his apple, an'they couldn't git him out. Soon ez the doctor had teched a poultice tohis foot he had woke up an' put a stop to it, an' then he had went offby hisself where nothin' couldn't pester him, to enjoy his apple inpeace. An' we never got him out tell he heered us tellin' the doctorgood-night. 

I tried ever' way to git him out--even took up a coal o' fire an' pokedit under at him; but he thess laughed at that an' helt his apple agin'it an' made it sizz. Well, sir, he seemed so tickled thet I helt thatcoal o' fire for him tell he cooked a good big spot on one side o' theapple, an' et it, an' then, when I took it out, he called for another, but I didn't give it to him. I don't see no use in over-indulgin' achild. An' when he knowed the doctor was gone, he come out an' finishedroastin' his apple by the fire--thess what was left of it 'round theco'e. 

Well, sir, we was mightily comforted by the doctor's visit, but nex'mornin' things looked purty gloomy ag'in. That little foot seemed a heapworse, an' he was sort o' flushed an' feverish, an' wife she thought sheheard a owl hoot, an' Rover made a mighty funny gurgly sound in histh'oat like ez ef he had bad news to tell us, but didn't have thecourage to speak it. 

An' then, on top o' that, the nigger Dicey, she come in an' 'lowed shehad dreamed that night about eatin' spare-ribs, which everybody knows todream about fresh pork out o' season, which this is July, is considereda shore sign o' death. Of co'se, wife an' me, we don't b'lieve in nosech ez that, but ef you ever come to see yo' little feller's toes standout the way Sonny's done day befo' yesterday, why, sir, you'll be readyto b'lieve anything. It's so much better now, you can't judge of itslooks day befo' yesterday. We never had even so much ez considered itnecessary thet little children should be christened to have 'em saved, but when things got on the ticklish edge, like they was then, why, wefelt thet the safest side is the wise side, an', of co'se, we want Sonnyto have the best of everything. So, we was mighty thankful when we seethe rector comin'. But, sir, when I went out to open the gate for him, what on top o' this round hemisp'ere do you reckon Sonny done? Why, sir, he thess took one look at the gate an' then he cut an' run hardez he could--limped acrost the yard thess like a flash o' zig-zaglightnin'--an' 'fore anybody could stop him, he had clumb to the tip topo' the butter-bean arbor--clumb it thess like a cat--an' there he set, a-swingin' his feet under him, an' laughin', the rain thess a-streakin'his hair all over his face. 

That bean arbor is a favoryte place for him to escape to, 'cause it'stoo high to reach, an' it ain't strong enough to bear no grown-upperson's weight. 

Well, sir, the rector, he come in an' opened his valise an' 'rayedhisself in his robes an' opened his book, an' while he was turnin' theleaves, he faced 'round an' says he, lookin' at me _di_rec', says he:

"Let the child be brought forward for baptism, " says he, thessthat-a-way. 

Well, sir, I looked at wife, an' wife, she looked at me, an' then weboth thess looked out at the butter-bean arbor. 

I knowed then thet Sonny wasn't never comin' down while the rector wasthere, an' rector, he seemed sort o' fretted for a minute when he seehow things was, an' he did try to do a little settin' fo'th of opinions. He 'lowed, speakin' in a mighty pompious manner, thet holy things wasn'tto be trifled with, an' thet he had come to baptize the child accordin'to the rites o' the church. 

[Illustration: "Name this child. "]

Well, that sort o' talk, it thess rubbed me the wrong way, an' I up an'told him thet that might be so, but thet the rites o' the church didn'tcount for nothin', on our farm, to the rights o' the boy!

I reckon it was mighty disrespec'ful o' me to face him that-a-way, an'him adorned in all his robes, too, but I'm thess a plain up-an'-down manan' I hadn't went for him to come an' baptize Sonny to uphold thegranjer of no church. I was ready to do that when the time come, butright now we was workin' in Sonny's interests, an' I intended to have itunderstood that way. An' it was. 

Rector, he's a mighty good, kind-hearted man, git down to the man insidethe preacher, an' when he see thess how things stood, why, he come'round friendly, an' he went out on the po'ch an' united with us intryin' to help coax Sonny down. First started by promisin' him speritualbenefits, but he soon see that wasn't no go, and he tried worldlypersuasion; but no, sir, stid o' him comin' down, Sonny started orderin'the rest of us christened thess the way he done about the vaccination. But, of co'se, we had been baptized befo', an' we nachelly helt outagin' that for some time. But d'rec'ly rector, he seemed to have asudden idee, an' says he, facin' 'round, church-like, to wife an' me, says he:

"Have you both been baptized accordin' to the rites o' the church?"

An' me, thinkin' of co'se he meant the 'Piscopal Church, says: "No, sir, " says I, thess so. And then we see that the way was open for us tobe did over ag'in ef we wanted to. So, sir, wife an' me we was took intothe church, then an' there. We wouldn't a yielded to him, thoo an' thoo, that-a-way ag'in ef his little foot hadn't a' been so swole, an' hemaybe takin' his death o' cold settin' out in the po'in'-down rain; butthings bein' as they was, we went thoo it with all due respects. 

Then he commenced callin' for Dicey, an' the dog, an' the cat, to bedid, same ez he done befo'; but, of co'se, they's some liberties theteven a innocent child can't take with the waters o' baptism, an' therector he got sort o' wo'e-out and disgusted an' 'lowed thet 'less'nwe could get the child ready for baptism he'd haf to go home. 

Well, sir, I knowed we wouldn't never git 'im down, an' I had went forthe rector to baptize him, an' I intended to have it did, ef possible. So, says I, turnin' 'round an' facin' him square, says I: "Rector, " saysI, "why not baptize him where he is? I mean it. The waters o' Heaven aredescendin' upon him where he sets, an' seems to me ef he's favo'blysituated for anything it is for baptism. " Well, parson, he thess lookedat me up an' down for a minute, like ez ef he s'picioned I was wanderin'in my mind, but he didn't faze me. I thess kep' up my argiment. Says I:"Parson, " says I, speakin' thess ez ca'm ez I am this minute--"Parson, "says I, "his little foot is mighty swole, an' so'e, an' thatsplinter--thess s'pose he was to take the lockjaw an' die--don't youreckon you might do it where he sets--from where you stand?"

Wife, she was cryin' by this time, an' parson, he claired his th'oat an'coughed, an' then he commenced walkin' up an' down, an' treckly hestopped, an' says he, speakin' mighty reverential an' serious:

"Lookin' at this case speritually, an' as a minister o' the Gospel, "says he, "it seems to me thet the question ain't so much a question of_doin'_ ez it is a question of _withholdin'_. I don't know, " says he, "ez I've got a right to withhold the sacrament o' baptism from a childunder these circumstances or to deny sech comfort to his parents ez liesin my power to bestow. "

An', sir, with that he stepped out to the end o' the po'ch, openedhis book ag'in, an' holdin' up his right hand to'ards Sonny, settin'on top o' the bean-arbor in the rain, he commenced to read theservice o' baptism, an' we stood proxies--which is a sort o' a dummysubstitutes--for whatever godfather an' mother Sonny see fit to choosein after life. 

Parson, he looked half like ez ef he'd laugh once-t. When he had thessopened his book and started to speak, a sudden streak o' sunshine shotout an' the rain started to ease up, an' it looked for a minute ez ef hewas goin' to lose the baptismal waters. But d'rec'ly it come down stiddyag'in an he' went thoo the programme entire. 

An' Sonny, he behaved mighty purty; set up perfec'ly ca'm an' composedthoo it all, an' took everything in good part, though he didn'tp'intedly know who was bein' baptized, 'cause, of co'se, he couldn'thear the words with the rain in his ears. 

He didn't rightly sense the situation tell it come to the part where itsays: "Name this child, " and, of co'se, I called out to Sonny to namehisself, which it had always been our intention to let him do. 

"Name yo'self, right quick, like a good boy, " says I. 

Of co'se Sonny had all his life heered me say thet I was DeuteronomyJones, Senior, an' thet I hoped some day when he got christened he'd bethe junior. He knowed that by heart, an' would agree to it or disputeit, 'cordin' to how the notion took him, and I sort o' ca'culated thethe'd out with it now. But no, sir! Not a word! He thess sot up on thetbean-arbor an' grinned. 

An' so, feelin' put to it, with the services suspended over my head, Ispoke up, an' I says: "Parson, " says I, "I reckon ef he was to speak hislittle heart, he'd say Deuteronomy Jones, Junior. " An' with thet whatdoes Sonny do but conterdic' me flat! "No, not Junior! I want to benamed Deuteronomy Jones, Senior!" says he, thess so. An' parson, helooked to'ards me, an' I bowed my head an' he pernouneed thess onesingle name, "Deuteronomy, " an' I see he wasn't goin' to say no more an'so I spoke up quick, an' says I: "Parson, " says I, "he has spoke hisheart's desire. He has named hisself after me entire--Deuteronomy Jones, Senior. "

An' so he was obligated to say it, an' so it is writ in the familyrecord colume in the big Bible, though I spelt his Senior with a littles, an' writ him down ez the only son of the Senior with the big S, whichit seems to me fixes it about right for the time bein'. 

[Illustration: "An' then Sonny, seein' it all over, he come down. "]

Well, when the rector had got thoo an' he had wropped up his robes an'put 'em in his wallet, an' had told us to prepare for conformation, hepernounced a blessin' upon us an' went. 

Then Sonny seein' it was all over, why, _he come down_. He was wet ez adrownded rat, but wife rubbed him off an' give him some hot tea an' hecome a-snuggin' up in my lap, thess ez sweet a child ez you ever see inyo' life, an' I talked to him ez fatherly ez I could, told him we wasall 'Piscopals now, an' soon ez his little foot got well I was goin' totake him out to Sunday-school to tote a banner--all his little 'Piscopalfriends totes banners--an' thet he could pick out some purty candles forthe altar, an' he 'lowed immejate thet he'd buy pink ones. Sonny alwayswas death on pink--showed it from the time he could snatch a pinkrose--an' wife she ain't never dressed him in nothin' else. Ever' pairo' little breeches he's got is either pink or pink-trimmed. 

Well, I talked along to him till I worked 'round to shamin' him a littlefor havin' to be christened settin' up on top a bean-arbor, same ez acrow-bird, which I told him the parson he wouldn't 'a' done ef he 'd 'a'felt free to 've left it undone. 'Twasn't to indulge him he done it, butto bless him an' to comfort our hearts. Well, after I had reasoned withhim severe that-a-way a while, he says, says he, thess ez sweet an'mild, says he, "Daddy, nex' time y'all gits christened, I'll come downan' be elms-tened right--like a good boy. "

Th' ain't a sweeter child in'ardly 'n what Sonny is, nowheres, git himto feel right comf'table, an' I know it, an' that's why I have patiencewith his little out'ard ways. 

"Yes, sir, " says he; "nex' time I 'll be christened like a good boy. "

Then, of co'se, I explained to him thet it couldn't never be did no mo', 'cause it had been did, an' did 'Piscopal, which is secure. An' thenwhat you reckon the little feller said?

Says he, "Yes, daddy, but _s'pos'in' mine don't take_. How 'bout that?"

An' I didn't try to explain no further. What was the use? Wife, she haddrawed a stool close-t up to my knee, an' set there sortin' out thelittle yaller rings ez they 'd dry out on his head, an' when he saidthat I thess looked at her an' we both looked at him, an' says I, "Wife, " says I, "ef they's anything in heavenly looks an' behavior, Ib'lieve that christenin' is started to take on him a'ready. "

An' I b'lieve it had. 

SONNY'S SCHOOLIN'

[Illustration: 'S']

Well, sir, we're tryin' to edjercate him--good ez we can. Th' ain'tnever been a edjercational advantage come in reach of us but we've giveit to him. Of co'se he's all we've got, that one boy is, an' wife an'me, why, we feel the same way about it. 

They's three schools in the county, not countin' the niggers', an' wesend him to all three. 

Sir? Oh, yas, sir; he b'longs to all three schools--to fo' for thatmatter, countin' the home school. 

You see, Sonny he's purty ticklish to handle, an' a person has to knowthess how to tackle him. Even wife an' me, thet's been knowin' himf'om the beginnin', not only knowin' his traits, but how he come by'em, --though some is hard to trace to their so'ces, --why, sir, evenwe have to study sometimes to keep in with him, an' of co'se ateacher--why, it's thess hit an' miss whether he'll take the right tackwith him or not; an' sometimes one teacher'll strike it one day, an'another nex' day; so by payin' schoolin' for him right along in allthree, why, of co'se, ef he don't feel like goin' to one, why, he'llgo to another. 

Once-t in a while he'll git out with the whole of 'em, an' that washow wife come to open the home school for him. She was determined hisedjercation shouldn't be interrupted ef she could help it. She don'tencour'ge him much to go to her school, though, 'cause it interrupts herin her housekeepin' consider'ble, an' she's had extry quilt-patchin' onhand ever since he come. She's patchin' him a set 'ginst the time he'llmarry. 

'An' then I reckon he frets her a good deal in school. Somehow, seemslike he thess picks up enough in the other schools to be able toconterdic' her ways o' teachin'. 

F' instance, in addin' up a colume o' figgers, ef she comes to aaught--which some calls 'em naughts--she'll say, "Aught's a aught, " an'Sonny ain't been learned to say it that a-way; an' so maybe when shesays, "Aught's a aught, " he'll say, "Who said it wasn't!" an' that putsher out in countin'. 

He's been learned to thess pass over aughts an' not call their names;and once-t or twice-t, when wife called 'em out that a-way, why, he gotso fretted he thess gethered up his things an' went to another school. But seem like she's added aughts that a-way so long she can't think toadd 'em no other way. 

I notice nights after she's kept school for Sonny all day she talksconsider'ble in her sleep, an' she says, "Aught's a aught" about ezoften ez she says anything else. 

Oh, yas, sir; he's had consider'ble fusses with his teachers, one wayan' another, but they ever'one declare they think a heap of 'im. 

Sir? Oh, yas, sir; of co'se they all draw their reg'lar pay whether he'sa day in school du'in' the month or not. That's right enough, 'cause yousee they don't know what day he's li'ble to drop in on 'em, an' it'sworth the money thess a-keepin' their nerves strung for 'im. 

Well, yas, sir; 't is toler'ble expensive, lookin' at it one way, but lookin' at it another, it don't cost no mo' 'n what it would toedjercate three child'en, which many poor families have to do--_an'more_--which in our united mind Sonny's worth 'em all. 

Yas, sir; 't is confusin' to him in some ways, goin' to all threeschools at once-t. 

F' instance, Miss Alviry Sawyer, which she's a single-handed maiden lady'bout wife's age, why, of co'se, she teaches accordin' to the old rules;an' in learnin' the child'en subtraction, f' instance, she'll tell 'em, ef they run short to borry one f'om the nex' lef' han' top figur', an'pay it back to the feller underneath him. 

Well, this didn't suit Sonny's sense o' jestice no way, borryin' fromone an' payin' back to somebody else; so he thess up an argued aboutit--told her thet fellers thet borried nickels f'om one another couldn'tpay back that a-way; an' of co'se she told him they was heap o'difference 'twix' money and 'rithmetic--which I wish't they was more inmy experience; an' so they had it hot and heavy for a while, till atlast she explained to him thet that way of doin' subtraction _fetchedthe answer_, which, of co'se, ought to satisfy any school-boy; an' Ireckon Sonny would soon 'a' settled into that way 'ceptin' thet he gotout o' patience with that school in sev'al ways, an' he left an' wentout to Sandy Crik school, and it thess happened that he struck asubtraction class there the day he got in, an' they was workin' it the_other_ way--borry one from the top figur' an' never pay it back at all, thess count it off (that's the way I 've worked my lifelong subtraction, though wife does hers payin' back), an' of co'se Sonny was ready todispute this way, an' he didn't have no mo' tac' than to th'ow up MissAlviry's way to the teacher, which of co'se he wouldn't stand, particular ez Miss Alviry's got the biggest school. So they broke up ina row, immejate, and Sonny went right along to Miss Kellogg's schooldown here at the cross-roads. 

She's a sort o' reformed teacher, I take it; an' she gets at hersubtraction by a new route altogether--like ez ef the first feller thethad any surplus went sort o security for them thet was short, an' passedthe loan down the line. But I noticed he never got his money back, forwhen they come to him, why, they docked him. I reckon goin' security ispurty much the same in an out o' books. She passes the borryin' alongsome way till it gits to headquarters, an' writes a new row o' figur'sover the heads o' the others. Well, my old brain got so addled watchin'Sonny work it thet I didn't seem to know one figur' f'om another 'fo' hegot thoo; but when I see the answer come, why, I was satisfied. Ef a mancan thess git his answers right all his life, why nobody ain't a-goin'to pester him about how he worked his figur's. 

I did try to get Sonny to stick to one school for each rule in'rithmetic, an' havin' thess fo' schools, why he could learn each o' thefo' rules by one settled plan. But he wont promise nothin'. He'll quitfor lessons one week, and maybe next week somethin' else 'll decide him. (He's quit ever' one of 'em in turn when they come to long division. )He went thoo a whole week o' disagreeable lessons once-t at one school'cause he was watchin' a bird-nest on the way to that school. He wasdetermined them young birds was to be allowed to leave that nest withoutbein' pestered, an' they stayed so long they purty nigh run him intolong division 'fo' they did fly. Ef he'd 'a' missed school one day heknowed two sneaky chaps thet would 'a' robbed that nest, either goin'or comin'. 

Of co'se Sonny goes to the exhibitions an' picnics of all the schools. Last summer we had a time of it when it come picnic season. Two schoolsset the same day for theirs, which of co'se wasn't no ways fair toSonny. He payin' right along in all the schools, of co'se he wasentitled to all the picnics; so I put on my Sunday clo'es, an' I wentdown an' had it fixed right. They all wanted Sonny, too, come down tothe truth, 'cause besides bein' fond of him, they knowed thet Sonnyalways fetched a big basket. 

[Illustration: "He was watchin' a bird-nest on the way to that school. "]

Trouble with Sonny is thet he don't take nothin' on nobody's say-so, don't keer who it is. He even commenced to dispute Moses one Sunday whenwife was readin' the Holy Scriptures to him, tell of co'se she made himunderstand thet that wouldn't do. Moses didn't intend to _be_conterdicted. 

An' ez to secular lessons, he ain't got no espec' for 'em whatsoever. F' instance, when the teacher learned him thet the world was round, whyhe up an' told him _'t warn't so_, less'n we was on the inside an' itwas blue-lined, which of co'se teacher he insisted thet we was _on theoutside_, walkin' over it, all feet todes the center--a thing I'vealways thought myself was mo' easy said than proved. 

Well, sir, Sonny didn't hesitate to deny it, an' of co'se teacher hecommenced by givin' him a check--which is a bad mark--for conterdictin'. An' then Sonny he 'lowed thet he didn't conterdic' to _be_aconterdictin', but he _knowed't_ warn't so. He had walked the wholelen'th o' the road 'twix' the farm an' the school-house, an' they warn't_no bulge in it_; an' besides, he hadn't never saw over the edges of it. 

An' with that teacher he give him another check for speakin' out o'turn. An' then Sonny, says he, "Ef a man was tall enough he could seearound the edges, couldn't he?" "No, " says the teacher; "a man couldn'tgrow that tall, " says he; "he'd be deformed. "

An' Sonny, why, he spoke up again, an' says he, "But I'm thess a-sayin'_ef_, " says he. "An' teacher, " says he, "we ain't a-studyin' _efs_;we're studyin' geoger'phy. " And then Sonny they say he kep' still aminute, an' then he says, says he, "Oh, maybe he couldn't see over theedges, teacher, 'cause ef he was tall enough his head might reach upinto the flo' o' heaven. " And with that teacher he give him anothercheck, an' told him not to dare to mix up geoger'phy an' religion, whichwas a sackerlege to both studies; an' with that Sonny gethered up hisbooks an' set out to another school. 

I think myself it 'u'd be thess ez well ef Sonny wasn't quite so quickto conterdic'; but it's thess his way of holdin' his p'int. 

Why, one day he faced one o' the teachers down thet two an' two didn't_haf_ to make _fo_', wh'er or no. 

This seemed to tickle the teacher mightily, an' so he laughed an' toldhim he was goin' to give him rope enough to hang hisself now, an' thenhe dared him to show him any two an' two thet didn't make fo', and Sonnysays, says he, "Heap o' two an' twos don't make four, 'cause they'rekep' sep'rate, " says he. 

"An' then, " says he, "I don't want my two billy-goats harnessed up withnobody else's two billys to make fo' billys. "

"But, " says the teacher, "suppose I _was_ to harness up yo' two goatswith Tom Deems's two, there'd be fo' goats, I reckon, whether you wanted'em there or not. "

"No they wouldn't, " says Sonny. "They wouldn't be but two. 'T wouldn'ttake my team more 'n half a minute to butt the life out o' Tom's team. "

An' with that little Tommy Deems, why, he commenced to cry, an' 'stid o'punishin' him for bein' sech a cry-baby, what did the teacher do butgive Sonny another check, for castin' slurs on Tommy's animals, an'gettin' Tommy's feelin's hurted! Which I ain't a-sayin' it on account o'Sonny bein' my boy, but it seems to me was a mighty unfair advantage. 

No boy's feelin's ain't got no right to be that tender--an' a goat isthe last thing on earth thet could be injured by a word of mouth. 

Sonny's pets an' beasts has made a heap o' commotion in school one wayan' another, somehow. Ef 't ain't his goats it's somethin' else. 

Sir! Sonny's pets? Oh, they're all sorts. He ain't no ways partic'larthess so a thing is po' an' miser'ble enough. That's about all he seemsto require of anything. 

He don't never go to school hardly 'thout a garter-snake or two or alizard or a toad-frog somewheres about him. He's got some o' the littlegirls at school that nervous thet if he thess shakes his little sleeveat 'em they'll squeal, not knowin' what sort o' live critter'll jump outof it. 

Most of his pets is things he's got by their bein' hurted some way. 

One of his toad-frogs is blind of a eye. Sonny rescued him from the oldred rooster one day after he had nearly pecked him to death, an' he hadhim hoppin' round the kitchen for about a week with one eye bandaged up. 

When a hurted critter gits good an' strong he gen'ally turns it looseag'in; but ef it stays puny, why he reg'lar 'dopts it an' names itJones. That's thess a little notion o' his, namin' his pets the familyname. 

The most outlandish thing he ever 'dopted, to my mind, is that oldyaller cat. That was a miser'ble low-down stray cat thet hung round theplace a whole season, an' Sonny used to vow he was goin' to kill it, 'cause it kep' a-ketchin' the birds. 

Well, one day he happened to see him thess runnin' off with a youngmockin'-bird in his mouth, an' he took a brickbat an' he let him haveit, an' of co'se he dropped the bird an' tumbled over--stunted. The birdit got well, and Sonny turned him loose after a few days; but that catwas hurted fatal. He couldn't never no mo' 'n drag hisself around fromthat day to this; an' I reckon ef Sonny was called on to give up everypet he's got, that cat would be 'bout the last thing he'd surrender. Henamed him Tommy Jones, an' he never goes to school of a mornin', rain orshine, till Tommy Jones is fed f'om his own plate with somethin' he'sleft for him special. 

Of co'se Sonny he's got his faults, which anybody 'll tell you; but th'ain't a dumb brute on the farm but'll foller him around--an' the niggerDicey, why, she thinks they never was such another boy born into theworld--that is, not no human child. 

An' wife an' me--

But of co'se he's ours. 

I don't doubt thet he ain't constructed thess exac'ly ez theschool-teachers would have him, ef they had their way. Sometimes I havethought I'd like his disposition eased up a little, myself, when hetaken a stand ag'in my jedgment or wife's. 

Takin' 'em all round, though, the teachers has been mighty patient withhim. 

At one school the teacher did take him out behind the school-house oneday to whup him; an' although teacher is a big strong man, Sonny'smighty wiry an' quick, an' some way he slipped his holt, an' fo' teachercould ketch him ag'in he had clumb up the lightnin'-rod on to the roofthess like a cat. An' teacher he felt purty shore of him then, 'cause he'lowed they wasn't no other way to git down (which they wasn't, theschool bein' a steep-sided buildin'), an' he 'd wait for him. 

So teacher he set down close-t to the lightnin'-rod to wait. He wouldn'tgo back in school without him, cause he didn't want the child'en to knowhe'd got away. So down he set; but he hadn't no mo' 'n took his seatsca'cely when he heerd the child'en in school roa'in' out loud, laughin'fit to kill theirselves. 

He lowed at first thet like ez not the monitor was cuttin' up some sorto' didoes, the way monitors does gen'ally, so he waited a-while; but itkep' a-gittin' worse, so d'rectly he got up, an' he went in to see whatthe excitement was about; an'lo and beholt! Sonny had slipped down theopen chimbly right in amongst 'em--come out a-grinnin', with his faceall sooted over, an', says he, "Say, fellers, " says he, "I run up thelightnin'-rod, an' he's a-waitin' for me to come down. " An' with that hewent an' gethered up his books, deliberate, an'fetched his hat, an'picked up a nest o' little chimbly-swallows he had dislodged in comin'down (all this here it happened thess las' June), an' he went out an'harnessed up his goat-wagon, an' got in. An' thess ez he driv' out theschool-yard into the road the teacher come in, an' he see how thingswas. 

Of co'se sech conduct ez that is worrisome, but I don't see no, to say, bad principle in it. Sonny ain't got a bad habit on earth, not a-one. They'll ever' one o' the teachers tell you that. He ain't never beenknowed to lie, an' ez for improper language, why he wouldn't know how toselect it. An' ez to tattlin' at home about what goes on in school, why, he never has did it. The only way we knowed about him comin' down theschool-house chimbly was wife went to fetch his dinner to him, an' shefound it out. 

[Illustration: "He had been playin' out o' doors bare-feeted. "]

She knowed he had went to that school in the mornin', an' when shegot there at twelve o'clock, why he wasn't there, an' of co'se shequestioned the teacher, an' he thess told her thet Sonny had beenpresent at the mornin' session, but thet he was now absent. An' therest of it she picked out o' the child'en. 

Oh, no, sir; she don't take his dinner to him reg'lar--only some dayswhen she happens to have somethin' extry good, or maybe when she'magines he didn't eat hearty at breakfast. The school-child'en theyalways likes to see her come, because she gen'ally takes a extry lot o'fried chicken thess for him to give away. He don't keer much for nothin'but livers an' gizzards, so we have to kill a good many to get enoughfor him; an' of co'se the fryin' o' the rest of it is mighty littletrouble. 

Sonny is a bothersome child one way: he don't never want to take hisdinner to school with him. Of co'se thess after eatin' breakfas' hedon't feel hungry, an' when wife does coax him to take it, he'll seem togit up a appetite walkin' to school, an' he'll eat it up 'fo' he gitsthere. 

Sonny's got a mighty noble disposition, though, take him all round. 

Now, the day he slipped down that chimbly an' run away he wasn't a bitflustered, an' he didn't play hookey the balance of the day neither. Hethess went down to the crik, an' washed the soot off his face, thoughthey say he didn't no more 'n smear it round, an' then he went down toMiss Phoebe's school, an' stayed there till it was out. An' she took himout to the well, an' washed his face good for him. But nex' day he upan' went back to Mr. Clark's school--walked in thess ez pleasant an'kind, an' taken his seat an' said his lessons--never th'owed it up toteacher at all. Now, some child'en, after playin' off on a teacher thata-way would a' took advantage, but he never. It was a fair fight, an'Sonny whupped, an' that's all there was to it; an' he never put on noair about it. 

Wife did threaten to go herself an' make the teacher apologize forgittin' the little feller all sooted up an' sp'iln' his clo'es; but shethought it over, an' she decided thet she wouldn't disturb things ezlong ez they was peaceful. An', after all, he didn't exac'ly send himdown the chimbly nohow, though he provoked him to it. 

Ef Sonny had 'a' fell an' hurted hisself, though, in that chimbly, I'd'a' helt that teacher responsible, shore. 

Sonny says hisself thet the only thing he feels bad about in thatchimbly business is thet one o' the little swallers' wings was broke bythe fall. Sonny's got him yet, an' he's li'ble to keep him, cause he'llnever fly. Named him Swally Jones, an' reg'lar 'dopted him soon ez hesee how his wing was. 

Sonny's the only child I ever see in my life thet could take youngchimbly-swallers after their fall an' make em' live. But he does itreg'lar. They ain't a week passes sca'cely but he fetches in some hurtedcritter an' works with it. Dicey says thet half the time she's afeerd tostep around her cook-stove less'n she'll step on some critter thet'scrawled back to life where he's put it under the stove to hatch or thawout, which she bein' bare-feeted, I don't wonder at. 

An' he has did the same way at school purty much. It got so for a-whileat one school thet not a child in school could be hired to put his handin the wood-box, not knowin' ef any piece o' bark or old wood in itwould turn out to be a young alligator or toad-frog thawin' out. Teacherhisself picked up a chip, reckless, one day, an' it hopped up, andknocked off his spectacles. Of cose it wasn't no chip. Hopper-toad frogsan' wood-bark chips, why, they favors consider'ble--lay 'em same sideup. 

It was on account o' her takin' a interest in all his little beastsan' varmints thet he first took sech a notion to Miss Phoebe Kellog'sschool. Where any other teacher would scold about sech things ez he'dfetch in, why, she'd encourage him to bring 'em to her; an' she'd fixa place for 'em, an' maybe git out some book tellin' all about 'em, an'showin' pictures of 'em. 

She's had squir'l-books, an' bird-books, an' books on nearly every sorto' wild critter you'd think too mean to _put_ into a book, at thatschool, an' give the child'en readin'-lessons on 'em an' drawin'-lessonsan' clay-moldin' lessons. 

Why, Sonny has did his alligator so nach'l in clay thet you'd mostexpec' to see it creep away. An' you'd think mo' of alligators foreverafterward, too. An' ez to readin', he never did take no interest inlearnin' how to read out'n them school-readers, which he declares don'tno more'n git a person interested in one thing befo' they start onanother, an' maybe start _that_ in the middle. 

The other teachers, they makes a heap o' fun o' Miss Phoebe's wayo' school-teachin', 'cause she lets the child'en ask all sorts ofoutlandish questions, an' make pictures in school hours, an' shedon't requi' 'em to fold their arms in school, neither. 

Maybe she is foolin' their time away. I can't say ez I exac'ly see howshe's a workin' it to edjercate 'em that a-way. I had to set with myarms folded eight hours a day in school when I was a boy, to learn thelittle I know, an' wife she got her edjercation the same way. An' wewent clean thoo f'om the _a-b abs_ an' _e-b ebs_ clair to the end o' theblue-back speller. 

An' we learned to purnounce a heap mo' words than either one of us hasever needed to know, though there has been times, sech ez when my wife'smother took the phthisic an' I had the asthma, thet I was obligated towrite to the doctor about it, thet I was thankful for my experience inthe blue-back speller. Them was our brag-words, phthisic and asthma was. They's a few other words I've always hoped to have a chance to spell inthe reg'lar co'se of life, sech ez y-a-c-h-t, yacht, but I suppose, livin' in a little inland town, which a yacht is a boat, a personcouldn't be expected to need sech a word--less'n he went travelin'. 

I've often thought thet ef at the Jedgment the good Lord would onlyexamine me an' all them thet went to school in my day, in the oldblue-back speller 'stid o' tacklin' us on the weak pints of our poremortal lives, why, we'd stand about ez good a chance o' gettin' toheaven ez anybody else. An' maybe He will--who knows?

But ez for book-readin', wife an' me aint never felt called on to readno book save an' exceptin' the Holy Scriptures--an', of cose, the seedcatalogues. 

An' here Sonny, not quite twelve year old, has read five books thoo, an'some of 'em twice-t an' three times over. His "Robinson Crusoe" showsmo' wear'n tear'n what my Testament does, I'm ashamed to say. I've donegive Miss Phoebe free license to buy him any book she wants him to have, an' he's got 'em all 'ranged in a row on the end o' the mantel-shelf. 

Quick ez he'd git thoo readin' a book, of co'se wife she'd be fordustin' it off and puttin' up on the top closet shelf where a booknach'ally belongs; but seem like Sonny he wants to keep 'em in sight. So wife she'd worked a little lace shelf-cover to lay under 'em, an'we've hung our framed marriage-c'tificate above 'em, an' the cornerlooks right purty, come to see it fixed up. 

Sir? Oh, no; we ain't took him from none o' the other schools yet. He'sbeen goin' to Miss Phoebe's reg'lar now--all but the exhibition an'picnic days in the other schools--for nearly five months, not countin'off-an'-on days he went to her befo' he settled down to it stiddy. 

He says he's a-goin' there reg'lar from this time on, an' I b'lieve hewill; but wife an' me we talked it over, an' we decided we'd let thingsstand, an' keep his name down on all the books till sech a time ez hecome to long division with Miss Kellog. 

An' ef he stays thoo that, we'll feel free to notify the other schoolsthet he's quit. 

SONNY'S DIPLOMA

[Illustration: 'Y']

Yas, sir; this is it. This here's Sonny's diplomy thet you've heerd somuch about--sheepskin they call it, though it ain't no mo' sheepskin 'nwhat I am. I've skinned too many not to know. Thess to think o' littleSonny bein' a grad'jate--an' all by his own efforts, too! It is aplain-lookin' picture, ez you say, to be framed up in sech a fine giltframe; but it's worth it, an' I don't begrudge it to him. He picked outthat red plush hisself. He's got mighty fine taste for a country-raisedchild, Sonny has. 

Seem like the oftener I come here an' stan' before it, the prouder Ifeel, an' the mo' I can't reelize thet he done it. 

I'd 'a' been proud enough to've had him go through the reg'lar co'seo' study, an' be awarded this diplomy, but to 've seen 'im thess walkin an' demand it, the way he done, an' to prove his right in a fairfight--why, it tickles me so thet I thess seem to git a spell o' thegiggles ev'y time I think about it. 

Sir? How did he do it? Why, I thought eve'ybody in the State of Arkansasknowed how Sonny walked over the boa'd o' school directors, an' took adiplomy in the face of Providence, at the last anniversary. 

I don't know thet I ought to say that either, for they never was athing done mo' friendly an' amiable on earth, on his part, than thetakin' of this dockiment. Why, no; of co'se he wasn't goin' to thatschool--cert'n'y not. Ef he had b'longed to that school, they wouldn't'a' been no question about it. He 'd 'a' thess gradj'ated with theothers. An' when he went there with his ma an' me, why, he'll tell youhisself that he hadn't no mo' idee of gradj'atin' 'n what I have thisminute. 

An' when he riz up in his seat, an' announced his intention, why, youcould 'a' knocked me down with a feather. You see, it took me so sudden, an' I didn't see thess how he was goin' to work it, never havin' been tothat school. 

Of co'se eve'ybody in the county goes to the gradj'atin', an' we was allthree settin' there watchin' the performances, not thinkin' of anyspecial excitement, when Sonny took this idee. 

It seems thet seein' all the other boys gradj'ate put him in the notion, an' he felt like ez ef he ought to be a-gradj'atin', too. 

You see, he had went to school mo' or less with all them fellers, an'he knowed thet they didn't, none o' 'em, know half ez much ez what hedid, --though, to tell the truth, he ain't never said sech a word, noteven to her or me, --an', seein' how easy they was bein' turned out, why, he thess reelized his own rights--an' demanded 'em then an' there. 

Of co'se we know thet they is folks in this here community thet saysthet he ain't got no right to this dipiomy; but what else could youexpect in a jealous neighborhood where eve'ybody is mo' or less kin?

The way I look at it, they never was a diplomy earned quite so uprightez this on earth--never. Ef it wasn't, why, I wouldn't allow him to haveit, no matter how much pride I would 'a' took, an' do take, in it. Butfor a boy o' Sonny's age to've had the courage to face all them people, an' ask to be examined then an' there, an' to come out ahead, the way hedone, why, it does me proud, that it does. 

You see, for a boy to set there seein' all them know-nothin' boysgradj'ate, one after another, offhand, the way they was doin', wasmighty provokin', an' when Sonny is struck with a sense of injestice, why, he ain't never been known to bear it in silence. He taken that from_her_ side o' the house. 

I noticed, ez he set there that day, thet he begin to look toler'blesolemn, for a festival, but it never crossed my mind what he wasa-projeckin' to do. Ef I had 'a' suspicioned it, I'm afeered I would'veopposed it, I'd 'a' been so skeert he wouldn't come out all right; an'ez I said, I didn't see, for the life o' me, how he was goin' to workit. 

That is the only school in the county thet he ain't never went to, 'cause it was started after he had settled down to Miss Phoebe's school. He wouldn't hardly 'v went to it, nohow, though--less'n, of co'se, he 'd'a' took a notion. Th' ain't no 'casion to send him to a county schoolwhen he's the only one we've got to edjercate. They ain't been a thingI've enjoyed ez much in my life ez my sackerfices on account o' Sonny'sedjercation--not a one. Th' ain't a patch on any ol' coat I've got butseems to me to stand for some advantage to him. 

Well, sir, it was thess like I'm a-tellin' you. He set still ez long ezhe could, an' then he riz an' spoke. Says he, "I have decided thet I'dlike to do a little gradj'atin' this evenin' myself, " thess that a-way. 

An' when he spoke them words, for about a minute you could 'a' heerd apin drop; an' then eve'ybody begin a-screechin' with laughter. A personwould think thet they'd 'a' had some consideration for a child standin'up in the midst o' sech a getherin', tryin' to take his own part; butthey didn't. They thess laughed immod'rate. But they didn't faze him. He had took his station on the flo', an' he helt his ground. 

Thess ez soon ez he could git a heerin', why, he says, says he: "I don'twant anybody to think thet I'm a-tryin' to take any advantage. I don'texpec' to gradj'ate without passin' my examination. An', mo' 'n that, "says he, "I am ready to pass it now. " An' then he went on to explainthet he would like to have anybody present _thet was competent to do it_to step forward an' examine him--then an' there. An' he said thet ef hewas examined fair and square, to the satisfaction of eve'ybody--_an'didn't pass_--why, he 'd give up the p'int. An' he wanted to be examinedoral--in eve'ybody's hearin'--free-handed an' outspoke. 

[Illustration: "Any question he missed was to be passed on to them thethad been grad'jatin' so fast. "]

Well, sir, seem like folks begin to see a little fun ahead in lettin'him try it--which I don't see thess how they could 'a' hindered him, an' it a free school, an' me a taxpayer. But they all seemed to be in apretty good humor by this time, an' when Sonny put it to vote, why, theyvoted unanymous to let him try it. An' all o' them unanymous voteswasn't, to say, friendly, neither. Heap o' them thet was loudest intheir unanimosity was hopefully expectin' to see him whipped out at thefirst question. Tell the truth, I mo' 'n half feared to see it myself. I was that skeert I was fairly all of a trimble. 

Well, when they had done votin', Sonny, after first thankin' 'em, --whichI think was a mighty polite thing to do, an' they full o' the giggles athis little expense that minute, --why, he went on to say thet he requie'd'em to make _thess one condition_, an' that was thet any question hemissed was to be passed on to them thet had been a-gradj'atin' so fast, an' ef they missed it, it wasn't to be counted ag'inst him. 

Well, when he come out with that, which, to my mind, couldn't be beatfor fairness, why, some o' the mothers they commenced to look purtyserious, an' seem like ez ef they didn't find it quite so funny ez ithad been. You see, they _say_ thet them boys had eve'y one had reg'larquestions give' out to 'em, an' eve'y last one had studied his own word;an' ef they was to be questioned hit an' miss, why they wouldn't 'a'stood no chance on earth. 

Of co'se they couldn't give Sonny the same questions thet had _been_give' out, because he had heerd the answers, an' it wouldn't 'a' beenfair. So Sonny he told 'em to thess set down, an' make out a list ofquestions thet they'd all agree was about of a' equal hardness to themthet had been ast, an' was of thess the kind of learnin' thet all thereg'lar gradj'ates's minds was sto'ed with, an' thet either he knowed'em or he didn't--one. 

It don't seem so excitin', somehow, when I tell about it now; but I tellyou for about a minute or so, whilst they was waitin' to see who wouldundertake the job of examinin' him, why, it seemed thet eve'y minutewould be the next, ez my ol' daddy used to say. The only person presentthet seemed to take things anyway ca'm was Miss Phoebe Kellog, Sonny'steacher. She has been teachin' him reg'lar for over two years now, an'ef she had 'a' had a right to give diplomies, why, Sonny would 'a' thesstook out one from her; but she ain't got no license to gradj'ate nobody. But she knowed what Sonny knowed, an' she knowed thet ef he had a fairshow, he'd come thoo creditable to all hands. She loves Sonny thessabout ez much ez we do, I believe, take it all round. Th' ain't neverbeen but one time in these two years thet she has, to say, got me out o'temper, an' that was the day she said to me thet her sure belief wasthet Sonny was goin' to _make somethin' out'n hisself some day_--like ezef he hadn't already made mo' 'n could be expected of a boy of his age. Tell the truth, I never in my life come so near sayin' somethin' I'd 'a'been shore to regret ez I did on that occasion. But of co'se I know shedidn't mean it. All she meant was thet he would turn out even mo' 'nwhat he was now, which would be on'y nachel, with his growth. 

Everybody knows thet it was her that got him started with hiscollections an' his libr'y. Oh, yes; he's got the best libr'y in thecounty, 'cep'n', of co'se, the doctor's 'n' the preacher's--everybodyround about here knows about that. He's got about a hund'ed books an'over. Well, sir, when he made that remark, thet any question thet hemissed was to be give to the class, why, the whole atmosp'ere took on achange o' temp'ature. Even the teacher was for backin' out o' the wholebusiness square; but he didn't thess seem to dare to say so. You see, after him a-favorin' it, it would 'a' been a dead give-away. 

Eve'ybody there had saw him step over an' whisper to Brother Binney whenit was decided to give Sonny a chance, an' they knowed thet he had asked_him_ to examine him. But now, instid o' callin' on Brother Binney, why, he thess said, says he: "I suppose I ought not to shirk this duty. Efit's to be did, " says he, "I reckon I ought to do it--an' do it I will. "You see, he daresn't allow Brother Binney to put questions, for fearhe'd call out some thet his smarty grad'jates couldn't answer. 

So he thess claired his th'oat, an' set down a minute to consider. An'then he riz from his seat, an' remarked, with a heap o' _hems_ and_haws_, thet of co'se everybody knowed thet Sonny Jones had had unusualadvantages in some respec's, but thet it was one thing for a boy tospend his time a-picnickin' in the woods, getherin' all sorts of naturalcuriosities, but it was quite another to be a scholar accordin' tobooks, so's to be able to pass sech a' examination ez would be a creditto a State institution o' learnin', sech ez the one over which he wasproud to preside. That word struck me partic'lar, "proud to preside, "which, in all this, of co'se, I see he was castin' a slur on Sonny'scollections of birds' eggs, an' his wild flowers, an' wood specimens, an' min'rals. He even went so far ez to say thet ol' Proph', thehalf-crazy nigger thet tells fortunes, an' gethers herbs out 'n thewoods, an' talks to hisself, likely knew more about a good many thingsthan anybody present, but thet, bein' ez he didn't know _b_ from abull's foot, why, it wouldn't hardly do to grad'jate him--not castin' noslurs on Master Sonny Jones, nor makin' no invijus comparisons, ofco'se. 

Well, sir, there was some folks there thet seemed to think this sort o'talk was mighty funny an' smart. Some o' the mothers acchilly giggledover it out loud, they was so mightily tickled. But Sonny he thess stoodhis ground an' waited. Most any boy o' his age would 'a' got flustered, but he didn't. He thess glanced around unconcerned at all the peoplea-settin' around him, thess like ez ef they might 'a' been askin' him toa picnic instid o' him provokin' a whole school committee to wrath. 

Well, sir, it took that school-teacher about a half-hour to pick out thefirst question, an' he didn't pick it out _then_. He 'd stop, an' he'dlook at the book, an' then he'd look at Sonny, an' then he'd look at theclass, --an' then he'd turn a page, like ez ef he couldn't make up hismind, an' was afeerd to resk it, less'n it might be missed, an' bereferred back to the class. I never did see a man so overwroughtover a little thing in my life--never. They do say, though, thatschool-teachers feels mighty bad when their scholars misses any p'intin public. 

Well, sir, he took so long that d'reckly everybody begin to git wo'eout, an' at last Sonny, why, he got tired, too, an' he up an' says, sayshe, "Ef you can't make up your mind what to ask me, teacher, why 'n'tyou let me ask myself questions? An' ef my questions seem too easy, why, I'll put 'em to the class. "

An', sir, with that he thess turns round, an' he says, says he, "SonnyJones, " says he, addressin' hisself, "what's the cause of total eclipsesof the sun?" Thess that a-way he said it; an' then he turned around, an'he says, says he:

"Is that a hard enough question?"

"Very good, " says teacher. 

An', with that, Sonny he up an' picks up a' orange an' a' apple off theteacher's desk, an' says he, "This orange is the earth, an' this hereapple is the sun. " An', with that, he explained all they is to totaleclipses. I can't begin to tell you thess how he expressed it, because Iain't highly edjercated myself, an' I don't know the specifactions. Butwhen he had got thoo, he turned to the teacher, an' says he, "Is theyanything else thet you'd like to know about total eclipses?" An' teachersays, says he, "Oh, no; not at all. "

They do say thet them graduates hadn't never went so far _ez_ totaleclipses, an' teacher wouldn't 'a' had the subject mentioned to 'em fornothin'; but I don't say that's so. 

Well, then, Sonny he turned around, an' looked at the company, an' hesays, "Is everybody satisfied?" An' all the mothers an' fathers noddedtheir heads "yes. "

An' then he waited thess a minute, an' he says, says he, "Well, now I'llput the next question:

"Sonny Jones, " says he, "what is the difference between dew an' rain an'fog an' hail an' sleet an' snow!

"Is that a hard enough question?"

[Illustration: "'This orange is the earth, an' this here apple is thesun. '"]

Well, from that he started in, an' he didn't stop tell he had expoundedabout every kind of dampness that ever descended from heaven or rosefrom the earth. An' after that, why, he went on a-givin' out onequestion after another, an' answerin 'em, tell everybody had declaredtheirselves entirely satisfied that he was fully equipped togradj'ate--an', tell the truth, I don't doubt thet a heap of 'em felttheir minds considerably relieved to have it safe-t over with withoutputtin' their grad'jates to shame, when what does he do but say, "Well, ef you're satisfied, why, I am--an' yet, " says he, "I think I would liketo ask myself one or two hard questions more, thess to make shore. " An'befo' anybody could stop him, he had said:

"Sonny Jones, what is the reason thet a bird has feathers and a dog hashair?" An' then he turned around deliberate, an' answered: "I don'tknow. Teacher, please put that question to the class. "

Teacher had kep' his temper purty well up to this time, but I see he wasmad now, an' he riz from his chair, an' says he: "This examination hasbeen declared finished, an' I think we have spent ez much time on it ezwe can spare. " An' all the mothers they nodded their heads, an' starteda-whisperin'--most impolite. 

An' at that, Sonny, why, he thess set down as modest an' peaceable ezanything; but ez he was settin' he remarked that he was in hopes thetsome o' the reg'lars would 'a' took time to answer a few questions thethad bothered his mind f'om time to time--an' of c'ose they must know;which, to my mind, was the modes'est remark a boy ever did make. 

Well, sir, that's the way this diplomy was earned--by a good, hardstruggle, in open daylight, by unanymous vote of all concerned--an'unconcerned, for that matter. An' my opinion is thet if they are thosewho have any private opinions about it, an' they didn't express 'em thatday, why they ain't got no right to do it underhanded, ez I am sorry tosay has been done. 

But it's _his_ diplomy, an' it's handsomer fixed up than any in town, an' I doubt ef they ever was one _anywhere_ thet was took more paternalpride in. 

Wife she ain't got so yet thet she can look at it without sort o'cryin'--thess the look of it seems to bring back the figure o' thelittle feller, ez he helt his ground, single-handed, at that gradj'atin'that day. 

Well, sir, we was so pleased to have him turned out a full gradj'atethet, after it was all over, why, I riz up then and there, though Icouldn't hardly speak for the lump in my th'oat, an' I said thet Iwanted to announce thet Sonny was goin' to have a gradj'atin' party outat our farm that day week, an' thet the present company was all invited. 

An' he did have it, too; an' they all come, every mother's son of'em--from _a_ to _izzard_--even to them that has expressed secretdissatisfactions; which they was all welcome, though it does seem to methet, ef I 'd been in their places, I'd 'a' hardly had the face to comean' talk, too. 

I'm this kind of a disposition myself: ef I was ever to go to any kindof a collation thet I expressed disapproval of, why, the supper couldn'tbe good enough not to choke me. 

An' Sonny, why, he's constructed on the same plan. We ain't never toldhim of any o' the remarks thet has been passed. They might git hislittle feelin's hurted, an' 't wouldn't do no good, though some few hasbeen made to his face by one or two smarty, ill-raised boys. 

Well, sir, we give 'em a fine party, ef I do say it myself, an' theyall had a good time. Wife she whipped up eggs an' sugar for a weekbefo'hand, an' we set the table out under the mulberries. It tookeleven little niggers to wait on 'em, not countin' them thet workedthe fly-fans. An' Sonny he ast the blessin'. 

Then, after they'd all et, Sonny he had a' exhibition of his littlespecimens. He showed 'em his bird eggs, an' his wood samples, an' hisstamp album, an' his scroll-sawed things, an' his clay-moldin's, an' allhis little menagerie of animals an' things. I rather think everybody wasstruck when they found thet Sonny knowed the botanical names of everyone of the animals he's ever tamed, an' every bird. Miss Phoebe, shedidn't come to the front much. She stayed along with wife, an' helped'tend to the company, but I could see she looked on with pride; an' Idon't want nothin' said about it, but the boa'd of school directors wasso took with the things she had taught Sonny thet, when the evenin' wasover, they ast her to accept a situation in the academy next year, an'she's goin' to take it. 

An' she says thet ef Sonny will take a private co'se of instruction innachel sciences, an' go to a few lectures, why, th' ain't nobody onearth that she 'd ruther see come into that academy ez teacher, --thatis, of co'se, in time. But I doubt ef he'd ever keer for it. 

I've always thought thet school-teachin', to be a success, has to run infamilies, same ez anythin' else--yet, th' ain't no tellin'. 

I don't keer what he settles on when he's grown; I expect to take pridein _the way he'll do it_--an' that's the principal thing, after all. 

It's the "Well done" we're all a-hopin' to hear at the last day; an' thepo' laborer thet digs a good ditch'll have thess ez good a chance tohear it ez the man that owns the farm. 

SONNY "KEEPIN' COMPANY"

[Illustration: 'H']

Hello, doc'; come in! Don't ask me to shake hands, though; 't least, nottell I can drop this 'ere piece o' ribbin. 

I never reelized how much shenanigan it took to tie a bow o' ribbin tellI started experimentin' with this here buggy-whup o' Sonny's. 

An' he wants it tied _thess so_. He's a reg'lar Miss Nancy, come totaste. 

All the boys, nowadays, they seem to think thet ez soon ez theycommence to keep company, they must have ribbin bows tied on theirbuggy-whups--an' I reckon it's in accordance, ef anything is. I thesscalled you in to look at his new buggy, doctor. You've had your firstinnin's, ez the base-ball fellers says, at all o' his various an' sundrycelebrations, from his first appearance to his gradj'atin', and I'llcall your attention to a thing I wouldn't mention to a' outsider. 

Sence he taken a notion to take the girls out a-ridin', why, I intendfor him to do it in proper style; an' I went an' selected this buggymyself. 

It is sort o' fancy, maybe, for the country, but I knew he'd like itfancy--at his age. I got it good an' high, so's it could straddle stumpsgood. They's so many tree-stumps in our woods, an' I know Sonny ain'ta-goin' to drive nowhere _but_ in the woods so long ez they's a livin'thin' to scurry away at his approach, or a flower left in bloom, or alast year's bird's nest to gether. An' the little Sweetheart, why, she'sgot so thet she's ez anxious to fetch home things to study over ez heis. 

Yas; I think it is, ez you say, a fus'-class little buggy. 

Sonny ain't never did nothin' half-ways, --not even mischief, --an'I ain't a-goin' in, at this stage o' his raisin', to stint him. 

List'n at me sayin' "raisin'" ag'in, after all Miss Phoebe has preachedto me about it! She claims thet folks has to be fetched up, --or "brungup" I believe she calls it, --an' I don't doubt she knows. 

She allows thet pigs is raised, an' potaters, an' even chickens; an' shesaid, one day, thet ef I insisted on "raisin'" child'en, she'd _raise arow_. She's a quick hand to turn a joke, Miss Phoebe is. 

Nobody thet ever lived in Simpkinsville would claim thet rows couldn'tbe raised, I'm shore, after all the fuss thet's been made over puttin'daytime candles in our 'piscopal church. Funny how folks'll fuss aboutsech a little thing when, ef they'd stop to think, they's so many mo'important subjec's thet they could git up diffe'nces of opinion on. 

I didn't see no partic'lar use in lightin' the candles myself, bein' ezwe didn't need 'em to see by, an' shorely the good Lord thet can speakout a sun any time he needs a extry taper couldn't be said to take nopleasure in a Simpkinsville home-dipped candle. But the way I look atit, seem like ef some wants em, why not?

Th' ain't nothin' mo' innercent than a lighted candle, --kep' away up onthe wall out o' the draft, the way they are in church, --an' so, when itcome to votin' on it, why, I count peace an' good-will so far ahead o'taller thet I voted thet I was good for ez many candles ez any other manwould give. An' quick ez I said them words, why, Enoch Johnson up an'doubled his number. It tickled me to see him do it, too. 

Enoch hates me thess because he's got a stupid boy--like ez ef that wasany o' my fault. His Sam failed to pass at the preliminar' examination, an' wasn't allowed to try for a diplomy in public; an' Enoch an' hiswife, why, they seem to hold it ag'in' me thet Sonny could step in atthe last moment an' take what their boy could n't git th'oo the trialsan' tribulations of a whole year o' bein' teached lessons at home an'wrestled in prayer over. 

I ain't got a thing ag'in' Enoch, not a thing--not even for makin' medouble my number o' candles. Mo' 'n that, I'd brighten up Sam's mind for'im in a minute, ef I could. 

I never was jealous-hearted. An' neither is Sonny. 

He sent Sam a special invite to his gradj'atin' party, an' give him aseat next to hisself so's he could say "Amen" to his blessin', thessbecause he had missed gittin' his diplomy. Everybody there knowed whyhe done it. 

But talkin' about Sonny being "raised, " I told Miss Phoebe thet we'd_haf_ to stop sayin' it about _him_, right or wrong, ez a person can'traise nothin' higher 'n what he is hisself, an Sonny's taller 'n eitherwife or me, an' he ain't but sixteen. Ef we raised 'im partly, we must'a' sent 'im up the rest o' the way. It's a pleasure to pass a littlejoke with Miss Phoebe; she's got sech a good ear to ketch their p'ints. 

But, come to growin', Sonny never asked nobody no odds. He thess stayedstock-still ez long ez he found pleasure in bein' a little runt, an'then he humped hisself an' shot up same ez a sparrer-grass stalk. Itgives me pleasure to look up to him the way I haf to. 

Fact is, he always did require me to look _up_ to 'im, even when Ilooked _down_ at 'im. 

Yas, sir; ez I said, Sonny has commenced keepin'company, --outspoke, --an' I can't say thet I'm opposed to it, though somewould say he was a little young, maybe. I know when I was his age I hadbeen in love sev'al times. Of co'se these first little puppy-dog loves, why, th' ain't no partic'lar harm in 'em--less'n they're opposed. 

An' we don't lay out to oppose Sonny--not in nothin' thet he'llattemp'--after him bein' raised an' guided up to this age. 

There goes that word "raisin'" agi'n. 

He's been in love with his teacher, Miss Phoebe, most three years--an''cep'n' thet I had a sim'lar experience when I was sca'cely out o' thecradle, why, I might 'a' took it mo' serious. 

That sort o' fallin' in love, why, it comes same ez the measles orthe two-year-old teeth, an' th' ain't nothin' sweeter ef it's tookphilosophical. 

It's mighty hard, though, for parents, thet knows thess how recent achild is, to reconcile the facts o' the case with sech things ez himtakin' notice to the color o' ribbin on a middle-aged school-teacher'shair--an' it sprinkled with gray. 

Sonny was worse plegged than most boys, because, havin' two ladyteachers at that time, it took him sort o' duplicated like. 

I suppose ef he'd had another, he'd 'a' been equally distributed onall three. 

The way I look at it, a sensible, serious-minded woman thet starts outto teach school--which little fellers they ain't got no sense on earth, nohow--ain't got no business with ribbin-bows an' ways an' moles ontheir cheek-bones. An' ef they've got knuckles, they ought to be likewife's or mine, pointed outward for useful service, instid o' bein'turned inside out to attract a young child's admiration--not thet I holdit against Miss Phoebe thet her knuckles is reversed. Of co'se she can'tbe very strong-fingered. No finger could git much purchase on a dimple. 

'T ain't none of her fault, I know. But Sonny has seen the day thet seemlike he couldn't talk about another thing but her an' her dimpledknuckles--them an' that little brown mole thet sets out on the aidge ofher eyebrow. 

I think myself thet that mole looks right well, for a blemish, whichwife says it is, worst kind. But of co'se a child couldn't be expectedto know that. It did seem a redic'lous part o' speech the first time hementioned sech a thing to his mother, but a boy o' twelve couldn't beexpected to know the difference between a mountain an' a mole-hill. 

I ricollec' he used to talk in his sleep consider'ble when he was alittle chap, an' it always fretted wife turrible. She'd git up out o'bed thess ez soon ez he'd begin to hold fo'th, an' taller him over. Whenever she didn't seem to know what else to do, why, she'd taller him;an' I don't reckon there's anything less injurious to a child, asleep orawake, _than_ taller. 

She's tallored him for his long division, an' she's tallered him forthat blemish on Miss Phoebe's cheek, an' she's tallered him for clairin'of his th'oat. His other lady teacher, Miss Alviry Sawyer, she was asingle-handed maiden lady long'bout wife's age, an' she didn't have afeature on earth thet a friend would seem to have a right to mention, she not bein' to blame; but she had a way o' clairin' her th'oat, sorto' polite, befo' she'd open her mouth to speak. Sonny, he seemed tothink it was mighty graceful the way she done it, an' he's oftenimitated it in his little sleep--nights when he'd eat hot waffles forhis supper. 

An' wife she'd always jump up an' git the mutton taller. I never took itserious myself, 'cause I know how a triflin' thing 'll sometimes turn alevel-headed little chap into a drizzlin' ejiot. I been there myself. 

But th' ain't no danger in it, not less'n he's made a laughin'-stalkof--which is cruelty to animals, an' shouldn't be allowed. 

I know when I went to school up here at Sandy Cri'k, forty year ago, Iwas teached by a certain single lady that has subsequently died a nacheldeath of old age an' virtuous works, an' in them days she wo'e a knittedcollar, an' long curls both sides of her face; an' I've seen many anight, after the candle was out, thet she'd appear befo' me. She'd seemto come an' hang over my bed-canopy same ez a chandelier, with them sidecurls all a-jinglin' like cut-glass dangles. It's true, she used mostlyto appear with a long peach-switch in her hand, but that was nachelenough, that bein' the way she most gen'ally approached me in life. 

But of co'se I come th'oo without taller. My mother had thirteen of us, an' ef she'd started anointin' us for all our little side-curlednightmares, she'd 'a' had to go to goose raisin'. 

You see, in them days they used goose grease. 

I never to say admired that side-curled lady much, though she's madesome lastin' impressions on me. Why, I could set down now, an' make adrawin' of that knitted collar she used to wear, an' it over forty yearago. I ricollec' she was cross-eyed, too, in the eye todes the foot o'the class, where I'd occasionally set; an', tell the truth, it was thestrongest reason for study thet I had--thess to get on to the side ofher certain eye. Th' ain't anything much mo' tantalizin' to a personthan uncertainty in sech matters. 

She was mighty plain, an' yet some o' the boys seemed to see beauty inher. I know my brother Bob, he confided to mother once-t thet he thoughtshe looked thess precizely like the Queen o' Sheba must'a' looked, an'I ricollec' thet he cried bitter because mother told it out on him atthe dinner-table. It was turrible cruel, but she didn't reelize. 

I reckon, ef the truth was known, most of us nine has seen them sidecurls in our sleep. An' nobody but God an' his angels will everknow how many of us passed th'oo the valley o' the shadder o' thatsingular-appearin' lady, or how often we notified the other eight of thefact, unbeknowinst to his audience, while they was distributed in theirlittle trundle-beds. 

I sometimes wonder ef they ain't no account took of little child'en'strials. Seems to me they ought to be a little heavenly book kep'a-purpose; an' 't wouldn't do no harm ef earthly fathers an' motherswas occasionally allowed to look over it. 

My brother Bob, him thet likened Miss Alviry to the Queen o' Sheba, always was a sensitive-minded child, an' we all knowed it, too; and yet, we never called him a thing for months after that but Solomon. We oughtto've been whupped good for it. 

Bob ain't never married, an' for a bachelor person of singular habits, he's kep' ez warm a heart ez ever I see. 

I've often deplo'ed him not marryin'. In fact, sense I see what comfortis to be took in a child, why, I deplo' all the singular numbers--thoughthe Lord couldn't be expected to have a supply on hand thess like Sonnyto distribute 'round on demand. 

But I doubt ef parents knows the difference. 

I've noticed thet when they can't take pleasure in extry smartness in achild, why, they make it up in tracin' resemblances. I suppose they'sparental comfort to be took to in all kinds o' babies. I know I've seensome dull-eyed ones thet seemed like ez ef they wasn't nothin' for 'emto do _but_ resemble. 

But talkin' about Sonny a-fallin' in love with his teachers, why, theywas a time here when he wanted to give away every thing in the house tofirst one an' then the other. The first we noticed of it was him tellin'us how nice Miss Alviry thought his livers and gizzards was. Now, everybody knows thet they ain't been a chicken thet has died for ournourishment sence Sonny has cut his eye-teeth but has give up its vitalsto him, an' give 'em willin'ly, they bein' the parts of his choice; an'it was discouragin', after killin' a useless number o' chickens to gitenough to pack his little lunch-bucket, to have her eat 'em up--an' sheforty year old ef she's a day, an' he not got his growth yet. An' yet, achicken liver is thess one o' them little things thet a person couldn'thardly th'ow up to a school-teacher 'thout seemin' small-minded. 

I never did make no open objection to him givin' away anything to histeachers tell the time he taken a notion to give Miss Phoebe the plushalbum out o' the parlor. We was buyin' it on instalments at twenty-fivecents a week, and it wasn't fully installed at the time, an' I told himit wouldn't never do to give away what wasn't ours. 

When it comes to principle, why, I always take a stand. I thought likelyby the time it was ours in full he'd've recovered from his attackt, an'be willin' for his ma to keep it; an' he was. 

An' besides, sence his pet squir'l has done chawed the plush clean offone corner of it, he says he wouldn't part with it for nothin'. Of co'sea beast couldn't be expected to reelize the importance o' plush. An'that's what seems to tickle Sonny so. 

We had bought it chiefly on his account, so ez to git 'im accustomed toseein' handsome things around, so thet when he goes out into the worldhe won't need to be flustered by finery. 

Wife she's been layin' by egg money all spring to buy a swingin', silver-plated ice-pitcher, so he'll feel at home with sech things, an'capable of walkin' up to one an' tiltin' it unconcerned, which is more'nI can do _to this day_. I always feel like ez ef I ought to go home an'put on my Sunday clo'es befo' I can approach one of 'em. 

Sech ez that has to be worked into a person's constitution in youth. The motions of a gourd-dipper, kep' in constant practice for years, is mighty hard to reverse. 

How does that look now, doctor? Yas; I think so, too. It's tied in aright good bow for a ten-thumbed man, which I shorely am, come tofingerin' ribbin. 

He chose blue because she's got blue eyes--pore little human! Sir? _Whois she_, you say? Why, don't you know? She's Joe Wallace's little MaryElizabeth--a nice, well-mannered child ez ever lived. 

[Illustration: "What could be sweeter 'n little Mary Elizabeth?"]

Wife has had her over here to supper sev'al nights lately, an' Sonnyhe's took tea over to the Wallaces' once-t or twice-t, an' they say heshows mighty good table manners, passin' things polite, an' leavin'proper amounts on his plate. His mother has always teached him keerful. It's good practice for 'em both. Of co'se Mary Elizabeth she's a yearolder 'n what Sonny is, an' she's thess gittin' a little experience outo' him--though she ain't no ways conscious of it, --an' he 'll gain agood deal o' courage th'oo keepin' company with a ladylike girl likeMary Elizabeth. That's the way it goes, an' I think th' ain't nothin'mo' innercent or sweet. 

How'd you say that, doctor? S'posin' it wasn't to turn out that-a-way?Well, bless yo' heart, ef it was to work out in _all seriousness, whatcould be sweeter 'n little Mary Elizabeth_? Sonny ain't got it in hispower to displease us, don't keer what he was to take a notion to, less'n, of co'se, it was wrong, which it ain't in him to do--notknowin'ly. 

You know, Sonny has about decided to take a trip north, doctor--to NewYork State. Sir? Oh, no; he ain't goin' to take the co'se o' lecturesthet Miss Phoebe has urged him to take--'t least, that ain't hisintention. 

No; he sez thet he don't crave to fit his-self to teach. He sez he feelslike ez ef it would smother him to teach school in a house all day. Hetaken that after me. 

No; he's goin a-visitin'. Oh, no, sir; we ain't got no New York kin. He's a-goin' all the way to that strange an' distant State to call on aman thet he ain't never see, nor any of his family. He's a gentle man bythe name o' Burroughs--John Burroughs. He's a book-writer. The firstbook thet Sonny set up nights to read was one o' his'n--all about dumbcreatures an' birds. Sonny acchilly wo'e that book out a-readin' it. 

Yas, sir; Sonny says thet ef he could thess take one long stroll th'oothe woods with him, he'd be willin' to walk to New York State ifnecessary. An' we're a-goin' to let 'im go. The purtiest part about itis thet this here great book-writer has invited him to pay him a visit. Think o' that, will you? Think of a man thet could think up a whole rowo' books a-takin' sech a' int'res' in our plain little Arkansas Sonny. But he done it; an' 'mo' 'n that, he remarked in the letter thet itwould give him great pleasure to meet the boy thet had so many mutualfriends in common with him, or some sech remark. Of co'se, in this hereferred to dumb brutes, an' even trees, so Sonny says. Oh, cert'n'y;Sonny writ him first. How would he've knew about Sonny? Miss Phoebe sheencouraged him to write the letter, but it was Sonny's first idee. An'the answer, why, he's got it framed an' hung up above his bookshelvesbetween our marriage c'tif'cate an' his diplomy. 

He's done sent Sonny his picture, too. He's took a-settin' up in a'apple-tree. You can tell from a little thing like that thet a personain't no dude, an' I like that. We 've put that picture in the frontpage of the plush album, an' moved the bishop back one page. 

Sonny has sent him a photograph of all our family took together, an'likely enough he'll have it framed time Sonny arrives there. 

When he goes, little Mary Elizabeth, why, she's offered to take keer ofall his harmless live things till he comes back, an' I s'pose they'll beletters a-passin' back and fo'th. It does seem so funny, when I thinkabout it. 'Pears like thess the other day thet Mis' Wallace fetchedlittle Mary Elizabeth over to look at Sonny, an' he on'y three days old. I ricollec' when she seen 'im she took her little one-year-old fingeran' teched 'im on the forehead, an' she says, says she, "Howdy?"--thessthat-a-way. I remember we all thought it was so smart. Seemed like ez efshe reelized thet he had thess arrived--an' she had thess learned to say"Howdy, " an' she up an' says it. 

An' she's ap' at speech yet, so Sonny says. She don't say much when wifeor I are around, which I think is showin' only right an' properrespec's. 

Th' ain't nothin' purtier, to my mind, than for a young girl to set upat table with her elders, an' to 'tend strictly to business. MaryElizabeth'll set th'oo a whole meal, an' sca'cely look up from herplate. I never did see a little girl do it mo' modest. 

Of co'se, Sonny, he bein' at home, an' she bein' his company, why, hetalks constant, an' she'll glance up at him sort o' sideways occasional. Wife an' me, we find it ez much ez we can do, sometimes, to hold in; wefeel so tickled over their cunnin' little ways together. To see Sonnypolitely take her cup o' tea an' po' it out in her saucer to cool forher so nice, why, it takes all the dignity we can put on to cover ouramusement over it. You see, they've only lately teethed together, themchild'en. 

I reckon the thing sort o' got started last summer. I know he give her aflyin' squir'l, an' she embroidered him a hat-band. I suspicioned thenwhat was comin', an' I advised wife to make up a few white-bosomedshirts for him, an' she didn't git 'em done none too soon. 'Twasn't notime befo' he called for 'em. 

A while back befo' that I taken notice thet he 'd put a few idees downon sheets o' paper for her to write her compositions by. Of co'se, hewouldn't _write_ 'em. He's too honest. He'd thess sugges' ideespromiscu'us. 

She's got words, so he says, an' so she'd write out mighty nicecompositions by his hints. I taken notice thet in this world it's oftenthat-a-way; one'll have idees, an' another'll have words. They ain'talways bestowed together. When they are, why, then, I reckon, them arethe book-writers. Sonny he's got purty consider'ble o' both for his age, but, of co'se, he wouldn't never aspire to put nothin' he could think upinto no printed book, I don't reckon; though he's got three blank booksfilled with the routine of "out-door housekeeping, " ez he calls it, theway it's kep' by varmints an' things out o' doors under loose tree-barksan' in all sorts of outlandish places. I did only last week find a pieceo' paper with a po'try verse on it in his hand-write on his littletable. I suspicioned thet it was his composin', because the name "MaryElizabeth" occurred in two places in it, though, of co'se, they's otherMary Elizabeths. He's a goin' to fetch that housekeepin' book up northwith him, an' my opinion is thet he's a-projec'ing to show it to Mr. Burroughs. But likely he won't have the courage. 

Yas; take it all together, I'm glad them two child'en has took thenotion. It'll be a good thing for him whilst he's throwed in with allsorts o' travelin' folks goin' an' comin' to reelize thet he's got alittle sweetheart at home, an' thet she's bein' loved an' cherished byhis father an' mother du'in' his absence. 

Even after they've gone their sep'rate ways, ez they most likely will intime, it'll be a pleasure to 'em to look back to the time when they waslittle sweethearts. 

I know I had a number, off an' on, when I was a youngster, an' they'reevery one hung up--in my mind, of co'se--in little gilt frames, each oneto herself. An' sometimes, when I think 'em over, I imagine thet they'ssweet, bunches of wild vi'lets a-settin' under every one of 'em--all'cep'n' one, an' I always seem to see pinks under hers. 

An' she's a grandmother now. Funny to think it all over, ain't it?At this present time she's a tall, thin ol' lady thet fans with aturkey-tail, an' sets up with the sick. But the way she hangs in herlittle frame in my mind, she's a chunky little thing with fat ankles an'wrisses, an' her two cheeks they hang out of her pink caliker sunbonnetthess like a pair o' ripe plumgranates. 

She was the pinkest little sweetheart thet a pink-lovin' school-boy everpicked out of a class of thirty-five, I reckon. 

Seemed to me everything about her was fat an' chubby, thess likeherself. Ricollec', one day, she dropped her satchel, an' out rolled thefattest little dictionary I ever see, an' when I see it, seem like shecouldn't nachelly be expected to tote no other kind. I used to takepleasure in getherin' a pink out o' mother's garden in the mornin's whenI'd be startin' to school, an' slippin' it on to her desk when shewouldn't be lookin', an' she'd always pin it on her frock when I'd havemy head turned the other way. Then when she'd ketch my eye, she'd turnpinker'n the pink. But she never mentioned one o' them pinks to me inher life, nor I to her. 

Yas; I always think of her little picture with a bunch o' themold-fashioned garden pinks a settin' under it, an' there they'll stay ezlong ez my old mind is a fitten place for sech sweet-scented pictures tohang in. 

They've been a pleasure to me all my life, an' I'm glad to see Sonny'sa-startin' his little picture-gallery a'ready. 

WEDDIN' PRESENTS

[Illustration: 'T']

That you, doctor? Hitch up, an' come right in. 

You say Sonny called by an' ast you to drop in to see me?

But I ain't sick. I'm thess settin'out here on the po'ch, upholsteredwith pillers this-a-way on account o' the spine o' my back feelin' sorto' porely. The way I ache--I reckon likely ez not it's a-fixin' to rain. Ef I don't seem to him quite ez chirpy I ought to be, why Sonny he getsoneasy an' goes for you, an' when I object--not thet I ain't always gladto see you, doctor--why, he th'ows up to me thet that's the way wealways done about him when de was in his first childhood. An' ef youricollec'--why, it's about true. He says he's boss now, an' turn aboutis fair play. 

My pulse ain't no ways discordant, is it? No, I thought not. Of co'se, ez you say, I s'pose it's sort o' different to a younger person's, an'then I've been so worked up lately thet my heart's bound to be more orless frustrated, and Sonny says a person's heart reg'lates his pulse. 

I reckon I ain't ez strong ez I ought to be, maybe, or I wouldn't cry soeasy ez what I do. I been settin' here, pretty near boo-hoo-in' for thelast half-hour, over the weddin' presents Sonny has thess been a-givin'me. 

Last week it was a daughter, little Mary Elizabeth--an' now it's hisbook. 

They was to 've come together. The book was printed and was to 've beenreceived here on Sonny's weddin'-day, but it didn't git in on time. ButI counted it in ez one o' my weddin' presents from Sonny, give to me onthe occasion of his marriage, thess the same, though I didn't know aboutthe inscription thet he's inscribed inside it tell it arrived--an' I'mglad I didn't. 

Ef I'd 've knew that day, when my heart was already in my win'-pipe, thet he had give out to the world by sech a printed declaration ez thatthet he had to say dedicated all his work in life, _in advance_, to myol' soul, I couldn't no mo' 've kep' up my behavior 'n nothin'. 

I'm glad you think I don't need no physic, doctor. I never was no handto swaller medicine when I was young, and the obnoxion seems to grow onme ez I git older. 

Not all that toddy? You'll have me in a drunkard's grave yet, --you an'Sonny together, --ef I don't watch out. 

That nutmeg gives it a mighty good flavor, doc'. Ef any thing ever doesmake me intemp'rate, why, it'll be the nutmeg an' sugar thet you allsmuggle the liquor to me in. 

It does make me see clairer, I vow it does, either the nutmeg or thesperit, one. 

There's Sonny's step, now. I can tell it quick ez he sets it on the backsteps. Sence I'm sort o' laid up, Sonny gits into the saddle every dayan' rides over the place an' gives orders for me. 

Come out here, son, an' shake hands with the doctor. 

Pretty warm, you say it is, son! An' th' ain't nothin' goin' astray onthe place? Well, that's good. An', doc', here, he says thet his bill forthis visit is a unwarranted extravagance 'cause they ain't a thing Ineed but to start on the downward way thet leads to ruin. He's got meall threatened with the tremens now, so thet I hardly know how to matchmy pronouns to suit their genders an' persons. He's give me fully atablespoonful o' the reverend stuff in one toddy. I tell him he mustwrite out a prescription for the gold cure an' leave it with me, so's incase he should drop off befo' I need it, I could git it, 'thout applyin'to a strange doctor an' disgracin' everybody in America by the name o'Jones. 

Do you notice how strong he favors _her_ to-day, doctor?

I don't know whether it's the toddy I've took thet calls my attention toit or not. 

[Illustration: "When I set here by myself on this po'ch so much thesedays an' think. "]

She always seemed to see me in him--but I never could. Far ez I cansee, he never taken nothin' from me but his sect--an' yo' name, son, ofco'se. 'Cep'in' for me, you couldn't 'a' been no Jones--'t least not inour branch. 

Put yo' hand on my forr'd, son, an' bresh it up'ards a few times, whileI shet my eyes. 

Do you know when he does that, doc', I couldn't tell his hand from hers. 

He taken his touch after her, exact--an' his hands, too, sech good firmfingers, not all plowed out o' shape, like mine. I never seemed toreelize it tell she'd passed away. 

That'll do now, boy. I know you want to go in an' see where the littlewife is, an' I've no doubt you'll find her with a wishful look in hereyes, wonderin' what keeps you out here so long. 

Funny, doctor, how seein' him and little Mary Elizabeth together bringsback my own youth to me--an' wife's. 

From the first day we was married to the day we laid her away under thepoplars, the first thing I done on enterin' the house was to wonderwhere she was an' go an' find her. An' quick ez I'd git her located, why, I'd feel sort o' rested, an' know things was all right. 

Heap of his ma's ways I seem to see in Sonny since she's went. 

An' what do you think, doc'? He's took to kissin' me nights and mornin'ssince she's passed away, an' I couldn't tell you how it seems to comfortme. 

Maybe that sounds strange to you in a grown-up man, but it don't come noways strange to me--not from Sonny. Now he's started it, seems like ezef I'd 've missed it if he hadn't. 

Ez I look back, they ain't no lovin' way thet a boy could have thetain't seemed to come nachel to him--not a one. An' his little wife, MaryElizabeth, why, they never was a sweeter daughter on earth. 

An' ef I do say it ez shouldn't, their weddin' was the purtiest thet hasever took place in this county--in my ricollection, which goes backdistinc' for over sixty year. 

Everybody loves little Mary Elizabeth, an' th' aint a man, woman, orchild in the place but doted on Sonny, even befo' he turned into abook-writer. But, of co'se, all the great honors they laid on him--theweddin' supper an' dance in the Simpkins's barn, the dec'rations o'the church that embraced so many things he's lectured about an' allthat--why they was all meant to show fo'th how everybody took pride inhim, ez a author o' printed books. 

You see he has give' twelve lectures in the academy each term for thelast three years, after studyin' them three winters in New York, eachyear's lectures different, but all relatin' to our own forests an' theirdumb population. That's what he calls 'em. Th' ain't a boy thet hasattended the academy, sence he's took the nachel history to teach, but'll tell you thess what kind o' inhabitants to look for on anyparticular tree. Nearly every boy in the county's got a cabinet--an'most of 'em have carpentered 'em theirselves, though I taught 'em how todo that after the pattern Sonny got me to make his by--an' you'll findall sorts o' specimens of what they designate ez "summer an' winterresorts" in pieces of bark an' cobweb an' ol' twisted tree-leaves inevery one of 'em. 

The boys thet dec'rated the barn for the dance say thet they ain't atree Sonny ever lectured about but was represented in the ornamentstacked up ag'inst the wall, an' they wasn't a space big ez yo' hand, ezyou know, doctor, thet wasn't covered with some sort o' evergreen orberry-branch, or somethin'. 

An' have you heerd what the ol' nigger Proph' says? Of co'se he's allunhinged in the top story ez anybody would be thet lived in the woodsan' e't sca'cely anything but herbs an' berries. But, anyhow, he's gota sort o' gift o' prophecy an' insight, ez we all know. 

Well, Proph', he sez that while the weddin' march was bein' played inthe church the night o' Sonny's weddin' thet he couldn't hear his ownears for the racket among all the live things in the woods. An' he saysthet they wasn't a frog, or a cricket, or katydid, or nothin', but upan' played on its little instrument, an' thet every note they soundedfitted into the church music--even to the mockin'-bird an' thescreech-owl. 

Of co'se, I don't say it's so, but the ol' nigger swears to it, an' efyou dispute it with him an' ask him how it come thet nobody else didn'thear it, why he says that's because them thet live in houses an' eatflesh ain't got the love o' Grod in their hearts, an' can't expect tohear the songs of the songless an' speech of the speechless. 

That's a toler'ble high-falutin figgur o' speech for a nigger, but it'sthess the way he expresses it. 

You know he's been seen holdin' conversation with dumb brutes, more 'nonce-t--in broad daylight. 

Of co'se, we can't be shore thet they was rejoicin' expressed in theunderbrush an' the forests, ez he says, but I do say, ez I said before, thet Sonny an' the little girl has had the purtiest an' joyfulestweddin' I ever see in this county, an' a good time was had by everybodypresent. An' it has made me mighty happy--it an' its results. 

They say a son is a son till he gets him a wife, but 't ain't so in thiscase, shore. I've gained thess ez sweet a daughter ez I could 'a' pickedout ef I'd 'a' had the whole world to select from. 

Little Mary Elizabeth has been mighty dear to our hearts for a longtime, an' when wife passed away, although the weddin' hadn't took placeyet, she bestowed a mother's partin' blessin' on her, an' give Sonny alot o' private advice about her disposition, an' how he ought toreg'late hisself to deal with it. 

You see, Mary Elizabeth stayed along with us so much durin' the seasonshe was away in New York, thet we got to know all her crotchets an'quavers, an' she ain't got a mean one, neither. 

But _they're there_. An' they have to be dealt with, lovin'. Fact is, th' ain't no other proper way to deal with nothin', in my opinion. 

We was ruther glad to find out some little twists in her disposition, wife an' me was, 'cause ef we hadn't discovered none, why we'd 'a' feltshore she had some in'ard deceit or somethin'. No person can't beperfec', an' when I see people always outwardly serene, I mistrust theirinsides. 

But little Mary Elizabeth, why, she ain't none too angelic to git a goodhealthy spell o' the pouts once-t in a while, but ef she's handled kindan' tender, why, she'll come thoo without havin' to humble herself withapologies. 

It depends largely upon how a pout is took, whether it'll contrac'itself into a hard knot an' give trouble or thess loosen up into agood-natured smile, an' the oftener they are let out that-a-way, theseldomer they'll come. 

Little Mary Elizabeth, why, she looks so purty when she pouts, now, thatI've been tempted sometimes to pervoke her to it, thess to witness thenew set o' dimples she'll turn out on short notice; but I ain't neverdone it. I know a dimple thet's called into bein' too often in youth isli'ble to lay the foundation of a wrinkle in old age. 

But takin' her right along stiddy, day in an' day out, she's got a goodsunny disposition an' is mighty lovin' and kind. 

An' as to character and dependableness, why, she's thess ez sound eza bell. 

In a heap o' ways she nears up to us, sech, f' instance, ez when shetaken wife's cook-receipt book to go by in experimentin' with Sonny'slikes an' dislikes. 'T ain't every new-married wife thet's willin' tosample her husband's tastes by his ma's cook-books. 

They seem to think they 're too dictatorial. 

But, of co'se, wife's receipts was better 'n most, an' Mary Elizabeth, she knows that. 

She ain't been married but a week, but she's served up sev'al self-madedishes a'ready--all constructed accordin' to wife's schedule. 

Of co'se I could see the diff'ence in the mixin'--but it only amused me. An' Sonny seemed to think thet, ef anything, they was better 'n theyever had been--which is only right and proper. 

Three days after she was married, the po' little thing whipped up ab'iled custard for dinner an', some way or other, she put salt in it'stid o' sugar, and poor Sonny--Well, I never have knew him to lieoutright, befo', but he smacked his lips over it an' said it was themost delicious custard he had ever e't in his life, an' then, when hehad done finished his first saucer an' said, "No, thank you, I won'tchoose any more, " to a second helpin', why, she tasted it an' thess bustout a-cryin'. 

But I reckon that was partly because she was sort o' on edge yet fromthe excitement of new housekeepin' and the head o' the table. 

Well, I felt mighty sorry to see her in tears, an' what does Sonny dobut insist on eatin' the whole dish o' custard, an' soon ez I could gita chance, I took him aside an' give him a little dose-t o' pain-killer, an' I took a few drops myself. 

I had felt obligated to swaller a few spoonfuls o' the salted custardwhen she'd be lookin' my way, an' I felt like ez ef I was pizened, an'so I thess took the painkiller ez a sort o' anecdote. 

Another way Mary Elizabeth shows sense is the way she acceptsdiscipline from the ol' nigger, Dicey. 

She's mighty old an' strenuous now, Dicey is, an' she thinks because shewas present at Sonny's birth an' before it, thet she's privileged tocorrect him for anything he does, and we've always indulged her in it, an' thess ez soon as she knowed what was brewin' 'twix' him an' MaryElizabeth, why, she took her into the same custody, an' it's too cutefor anything the way the little girl takes a scoldin' from her--thesswinkin' at Sonny an' me while she receives it. 

An' the ol' nigger'd lay down her life for her most ez quick ez shewould for Sonny. 

She was the first to open our eyes to the state of affairs 'twixt thetwo child'en, that ol' nigger was. It was the first year Sonny wentNorth. He had writ home to his ma from New York State, and said thet Mr. Burroughs had looked over his little writings an' said they was goodenough to be printed an' bound up in a book. 

Wife, she read the letter out loud, ez she always done, an' we noticedthet when we come to that, Mary Elizabeth slipped out o' the room; butwe didn't think nothin' of it tell direc'ly ol' Dicey, she come intickled all but to death to tell us thet the little girl was out on thepo'ch with her face hid in the honeysuckle vines, cryin' thess ez hardas we was. So then, of co'se, we knowed that ef the co'se of true lovecould be allowed to run smooth for once-t, she was fo'-ordained to beour little blessin'--an' his--that is, so far as she was concerned. 

Of co'se we was even a little tenderer todes her, after that, than wehad been befo'. 

That was over five year ago, an' th' ain't been a day sca'cely sencethen but we've seen her, an' in my jedgment they won't be nothin'lackin' in her thet's needful in a little wife--not a thing. 

Ef they's anything in long acquaintance, they've certainly knowed oneanother all the time they've had. 

Of co'se Mary Elizabeth, she ain't to say got Sonny's thoughts, exac'ly, where it comes to sech a thing ez book-writin', but he says she's a heapbetter educated 'n what he is. 

She's got all her tuition repo'ts du'in' the whole time she attendedschool, an' mostly all her precentages was up close onto the hund'eds. 

Sonny never was no hand on earth to git good reports at school. 

They was always so low down in figgurs thet he calls 'em his "misconduc'slips. "

But they ain't a one he's ever got, takin' 'em from the beginnin' cleanup to the day o' his gradjuatin', thet ain't got some lovin' remarkinscribed acrost it from his teacher--not a one. 

Even them that wrastled with him most severe has writ him down friendlyan' kind. 

An' little Mary Elizabeth--why, she's took every last one of 'em an'she's feather-stitched 'em aroun' the edges an' sewed 'em up into a sorto' little book, an' tied a ribbin' bow acrost it. I don't know whethershe done it on account o' the teacher's remarks or not--but she cert'n'ydoes prize that pamphlet. 

She thinks so much of it thet I been advisin' her to take out a fireinsu'ance on it. 

In a heap o' ways she thess perzacly suits Sonny. Lookin' at it from onep'int o' view, she's a sort o' dictionary to him. 

Whenever Sonny finds hisself short of a date, f' instance, or someunreasonable spellin' 'll bother 'im, why, he'll apply to her for it an'she'll hand it out to him, intac'. I ain't never knew her to fail. 

You see, while Sonny's thoughts is purty far-reachin' in some ways, he'sreceived his education so sort o' hit an' miss thet the things he knowsain't to say catalogued in his mind, an' while he'll know one fac', maybe he won't be able to recall another thet seems to belong hand inhand with it. An' that's one reason why I say thet little Mary Elizabethis thess the wife for him. 

She may not bother about the whys an' wherefores, but she's got thestatistics. 

It's always well, in a married couple, to have either one or the otherstatistical, so thet any needed fac' can be had on demand. 

Wife, she was a heap more gifted that-a-way 'n what I was, but of co'sehers wasn't so much book statistics. 

She could give the name an' age of every cow an' calf on the farm, an'relate any circumstance thet has took place within her recollection ormine without the loss of a single date or any gain through imagination, either. 

I don't know but I think that's a greater gif' than the other, to beable to reproduce a event after a long time without sort o' thesstechin' it up with a little exaggeration. 

Th' ain't no finer trait, in my opinion, _in man or woman_, thandependableness, an' that's another reason I take sech special delight inthe little daughter, Mary Elizabeth. 

If she tells you a thing's black, why you may know it don't lean todesbrown or gray. It's thess a dismal black. 

She may hate to say it, an' show her hatred in a dozen lovin', regretfulways, but out it'll come. 

An' I think thet any man thet can count on a devoted wife for_exactitude_ is blessed beyond common. 

So many exac' women is col'-breasted an' severe. An' ef I had to takeone or the other, why, I'd let my wife prevaricate a little, ef needbe, befo' I'd relinquish warmheartedness, an' the power to commandpeacefulness an' rest, an' make things comfortable an' homely, day inan' day out. 

Maybe I'm unprincipled in that, but life is so short, an' ef we didn'thave lovin' ways to lengthen out our days, why I don't think I'd keer tobother with it, less'n, of co'se, I might be needful to somebody else. 

Yas, doc', I 'm mighty happy in the little daughter--an' the book--an'the blessed boy hisself. Maybe I'm too talkative on the subject, but theway I feel about him, I might discuss him forever, an' then they'd bethess a little sweetness left over thet I couldn't put into words abouthim. 

Not thet he's faultless. I don't suppose they ever was a boy on earththet had mo' faults 'n Sonny, but they ain't one he's got thet I don'tseem to cherish because I know it's rooted in honest soil. 

You may strike a weed now an' ag'in, but he don't grow no pizen vines inhis little wilderness o' short-comin's. Th' ain't no nettles in hisgarden o' faults. That ain't a bad figgur o' speech for a ol' man likeme, is it, doctor?

But nex' time he stops an' tells you I'm sick, you thess tell him to goabout his business. 

I'm failin' in stren'th ez the days go--an' I know it--an' it's allright. 

I don't ask no mo' 'n thess to pass on whenever the good Lord wills. 

But of co'se I ain't in no hurry, an' they's one joy I'd like to feelbefo' that time comes. 

I'd love to hol' Sonny's baby in my ol' arms--his an' hers--an' to seethet the good ol' name o' Jones has had safe transportation into one mo'generation of honest folks. 

Sonny an' Mary Elizabeth are too sweet-hearted an' true not to bereproduced in detail, an' passed along. 

This here ol' oak tree thet gran'pa planted when I was a kid, why, it'dbe a fine shady place for healthy girls an' boys to play under. 

[Illustration: "Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's adescendant befo' he's a' ancestor. "]

When I set here by myself on this po'ch so much these days an'think, --an' remember, --why I thess wonder over the passage o' time. 

I ricollec' thess ez well when gran'pa planted that oak saplin'. My pahe helt it stiddy an' I handed gran'pa the spade, an' we took off ourhats whilst he repeated a Bible tex'. 

Yes, that ol' oak was religiously planted, an' we've tried not to offendits first principles in no ways du'in' the years we've nurtured it. 

An' when I set here an' look at it, an' consider its propensities, --it'sgot five limbs that seem thess constructed to hold swings, --maybe it's'cause I was raised Presbyterian an' sort o' can't git shet o' thedoctrine o' predestination, but I can't help seemin' to fo'-see themfriendly family limbs all fulfillin' their promises. 

An' when I imagine myself a-settin' there with one little one a-climbin'over me while the rest swings away, why, seem like a person don't no mo''n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.