w naturally he gets out of a book. I
reckon the way you twist, Nevvy, mebby you'd admire fo' to lose an ear!"
and Mr. Yancy refused further to discuss the knowledge he had garnered
in his youth.

Hannibal and Yancy were the first to arrive at the deserted cabin in the
old field that afternoon. They found the place had been recently cleaned
and swept, while about the wall was ranged a row of benches; there was
also a table and two chairs. Yancy inspected the premises with the eye
of mature experience.

"Yes, it surely is a school; any one with an education would know that.
Just look!--ain't you glad yo' Uncle Bob slicked you up some, now you
see what them ladies has done fo' to make this place tidy?"

Shy children from the pine woods, big brothers with little sisters and
big sisters with little brothers, drifted out of the encircling forest.
Coincident with the arrival of the last of these stragglers Mrs. Ferris
and Miss Malroy appeared, attended by a colored groom.

"It was so good of you to come, Mr. Yancy! The children won't feel so
shy with you here," said Mrs. Ferris warmly, as Yancy assisted her to
dismount, an act of courtesy that called for his finest courage.

Mrs. Ferris' missionary spirit manifested itself agreeably enough on
the whole. When she had ranged her flock in a solemn-faced row on the
benches, she began by explaining why Sunday was set apart for a day
of rest, touching but lightly on its deeper significance as a day
of worship as well; then she read certain chapters from the Bible,
finishing with the story of David, a narrative that made a deep
impression upon Yancy, comfortably seated in the doorway.

"Can't you tell the children a story, Mr. Yancy? Something about their
own neighborhood I think would be nice, something with a moral," the
pleasant earnest voice f Mrs. Ferris roused the Scratch Hiller from his
meditations.

"Yes, ma'am, I reckon I can tell 'em a story." He stood up, filling
the doorway with his bulk. "I can tell you-all a story about this here
house," he said, addressing himself to the children. He smiled happily.
"You-all don't need to look so solemn, a body ain't going to snap at
you! This house are the old Blount cabin, but the Blounts done moved
away from it years and years ago. They're down Fayetteville way now.
There was a passel of 'em and they was about as common a lot of white
folks as you'd find anywhere; I know, because I come to a dance here
once and Dave Blount c