"Don't you all feel sorry for old Miss Pollie b.u.mpus? She live all by herself, and she 'bout a million years old, and Doctor Sanford ain't never brung her no chillens 'cause she ain't got 'er no husban' to be their papa, and she got a octopus in her head, and she poor as a post and deaf as job's old turkey-hen."

"Job's old turkey-hen wasn't deaf," retorted Lina primly; "she was very, very poor and thin."

"She was deaf, too," insisted Jimmy, "'cause it's in the Bible. I know all 'bout job," bragged he.

"I know all 'bout job, too," chirped Frances.

"Job, nothing!" said Jimmy, with a sneer; "you all time talking 'bout you know all 'bout job; you 'bout the womanishest little girl they is.

Now I know job 'cause Miss Cecilia 'splained all 'bout him to me. He's in the Bible and he sold his birthmark for a mess of potatoes and--"

"You never can get anything right, Jimmy," interrupted Lina; "that was Esau and it was not his birthmark, it was his birthstone; and he sold his birthstone for a mess of potash."

"Yas," agreed Frances; "he saw Esau kissing Kate and Esau had to sell him his birthstone to keep his mouth shut."

"Mother read me all about job," continued Lina; "he was afflicted with boils and his wife knit him a job's comforter to wrap around him, and he--"

"And he sat under a 'tato vine;" put in Frances eagerly, "what G.o.d grew to keep the sun off o' his boils and--"

"That was Jonah," said Lina, "and it wasn't a potato vine; it was--"

"No, 't wasn't Jonah neither; Jonah is inside of a whale's bel--"

"Frances!"

"Stommick," Frances corrected herself, "and a whale swallow him, and how's he going to sit under a pumpkin vine when he's inside of a whale?"

"It was not a pumpkin vine, it--"

"And I 'd jus' like to see a man inside of a whale a-setting under a morning-glory vine."

"The whale vomicked him up," said Jimmy.

"What sorter thing is a octopus like what y' all say is in Miss Pollie b.u.mpus's head?" asked Billy.

"'Tain't a octopus, it's a polypus," explained Frances, "'cause she's named Miss Pollie. It's a someping that grows in your nose and has to be named what you's named. She's named Miss Pollie and she's got a polypus."

"I'm mighty glad my mama ain't got no Eva-pus in her head," was Jimmy's comment. "Ain't you glad, Billy, your Aunt Minerva ain't got no Miss Minervapus?"

"I sho' is," fervently replied Miss Minerva's nephew; "she's hard 'nough to manage now like she is."

"I'm awful good to Miss Pollie," said Frances. "I take her someping good to eat 'most every day. I took her two pieces of pie this morning; I ate up one piece on the way and she gimme the other piece when I got there.

I jus' don't believe she could get 'long at all 'thout me to carry her the good things to eat that my mama sends her; I takes her pies all the time, she says they're the best smelling pies ever she smelt."

"You 'bout the piggiest girl they is," said Jimmy, "all time got to eat up a poor old woman's pies. You'll have a Frances-pus in your stomach first thing you know."

"She's got a horn that you talk th'oo," continued the little girl, serenely contemptuous of Jimmy's adverse criticism, "and 'fore I knew how you talk into it, she says to me one day, 'How's your ma?' and stuck that old horn at me; so I put it to my ear, too, and there we set; she got one end of the horn to her ear and I got the other end to my ear; so when I saw this wasn't going to work I took it and blew into it; you-all 'd died a-laughing to see the way I did. But now I can talk th'oo it 's good's anybody."

"That is an ear trumpet, Frances," said Lina, "it is not a horn."

"Le's play 'Hide the Switch,'" suggested Billy.

"I'm going to hide it first," cried Frances.

"Naw, you ain't," objected Jimmy, "you all time got to hide the switch first. I'm going to hide it first myself."

"No, I'm going to say 'William Com Trimbleton,'" said Frances, "and see who's going to hide it first. Now you-all spraddle out your fingers."

CHAPTER XIV.

Mr. ALGERNON JONES

Again was it Monday, with the Ladies Aid Society in session. Jimmy was sitting on the gra.s.s in his own front yard, in full view of Sarah Jane, who was ironing clothes in her cabin with strict orders to keep him at home. Billy was in the swing in Miss Minerva's yard.

"Come on over," he invited.

"I can't," was the reply across the fence, "I'm so good now I 'bout got 'ligion; I reckon I'm going to be a mish'nary or a pol'tician, one or t' other when I'm a grownup man 'cause I'm so good; I ain't got but five whippings this week. I been good ever since I let you 'suade me to play Injun. I'm the goodest little boy in this town, I 'spec'. Sometimes I get scared 'bout being so good 'cause I hear a woman say if you too good, you going to die or you ain't got no sense, one. You come on over here; you ain't trying to be good like what I'm trying, and Miss Minerva don't never do nothing a tall to you 'cepting put you to bed."

"I'd ruther to git whipped fifty hunderd times 'n to hafter go to bed in the daytime with Aunt Minerva lookin' at you. An' her specs can see right th'oo you plumb to the bone. Naw, I can't come over there 'cause she made me promise not to. I ain't never go back on my word yit."

"I hope mama won't never ask me to promise her nothing a tall, 'cause I'm mighty curious 'bout forgetting. I 'spec' I'm the most forgettingest little boy they is. But I'm so glad I'm so good. I ain't never going to be bad no more; so you might just as well quit begging me to come over and swing, you need n't ask me no more,--'tain't no use a tall."

"I ain't a-begging you," cried Billy contemptuously, "you can set on yo'

mammy's gra.s.s where you is, an' be good from now tell Jedgement Day an'

'twon't make no change in my business."

"I ain't going to be 'ticed into no meanness, 'cause I'm so good,"

continued the reformed one, after a short silence during which he had seen Sarah Jane turn her back to him, "but I don't b'lieve it'll be no harm jus' to come over and set in the swing with you; maybe I can 'fluence you to be good like me and keep you from 'ticing little boys into mischief. I think I'll just come over and set a while and help you to be good," and he started to the fence. Sarah Jane turned around in time to frustrate his plans.

"You git right back, Jimmy," she yelled, "you git erway f'om dat-ar fence an' quit confabbin' wid datar w.i.l.l.yum. Fixin' to make some mo'

Injuns out o' yo'selfs, ain't yeh, or some yuther kin' o' skeercrows?"

Billy strolled to the other side of the big yard and climbed up and sat on the tall gate post. A stranger, coming from the opposite direction, stopped and spoke to him.

"Does Mr. John Smith live here?" he asked.

"Naw, sir," was the reply; "don't no Mr. 'tall live here; jest me an'

Aunt Minerva, an' she turns up her nose at anything that wears pants."

"And where could I find your Aunt Minerva?" the stranger's grin was ingratiating and agreeable.

"Why, this here's Monday," the little boy exclaimed. "Of course she's at the Aid; all the 'omans roun' here goes to the Aid on Monday."

"Your aunt is an old friend of mine," went on the man, "and I knew she was at the Aid. I just wanted to find out if you'd tell the truth about her. Some little boys tell stories, but I am glad to find out you are so truthful. My name is Mr. Algernon Jones and I'm glad to know you. Shake!

Put it there, partner," and the fascinating stranger held out a grimy paw.