t-to-heart talk with his
relative.

"I don't see that it does you any good, William, to put you to bed."

"I don' see as it do neither," agreed Billy.

"I can not whip you; I am constitutionally opposed to corporal
punishment for children."

"I's 'posed to it too," he assented.

"I believe I will hire a servant, so that I may devote my entire time to
your training."

This prospect for the future did not appeal to her nephew. On the
contrary it filled him with alarm.

"A husban' 'd be another sight handier," he declared with energy; "he
'd be a heap mo' 'count to you 'n a cook, Aunt Minerva. There's that
Major--"

"You will never make a preacher of yourself, William, unless you
improve."

The child looked up at her in astonishment; this was the first he knew
of his being destined for the ministry.

"A preacher what 'zorts an' calls up mourners?" he said,--"not on yo'
tin-type. Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln--"

"How many times have I expressed the wish not to have you bring that
negro's name into the conversation?" she impatiently interrupted.

"I don' perzactly know, 'm," he answered good humoredly, "'bout
fifty hunerd, I reckon. Anyways, Aunt Minerva, I ain't goin' to be no
preacher. When I puts on long pants I's goin' to be a Confedrit Vet'run
an' kill 'bout fifty hunderd Yankees an' Injuns, like my Major man."

CHAPTER XI

NOW RIDDLE ME THIS

The children were sitting in the swing. Florence Hammer, a little girl
whose mother was spending the day at Miss Minerva's, was with them.

"Don't you-all wish Santa Claus had his birthday right now 'stead 'o
waiting till Christmas to hang up our stockings?" asked Frances.

"Christmas isn't Santa Claus' birthday," corrected Lina. "God was born
on Christmas and that's the reason we hang up our stockings."

"Yes; it is old Santa's birthday, too," argued Jimmy, "'cause it's in
the Bible and Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me and she 'bout the dandiest
'splainer they is."

"Which you-all like the best: God or Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus?"
asked Florence.

"I like God 'nother sight better 'n I do anybody," declared Jimmy,
"'cause He so forgivingsome. He's 'bout the forgivingest person they is.
Santa Claus can't let you go to Heaven nor Doctor Sanford neither, nor
our papas and mamas nor Miss Minerva. Now wouldn't we be in a pretty fix
if we had to 'pend on Doctor Sanford or Santa Claus to forgive you every
time you run off or fall