pleasant to see; in fact, it was the pleasantest
expression Jane had seen him wearing for several days. Almost always,
lately, he was profoundly preoccupied, and so easily annoyed that
there was no need to be careful of his feelings, because--as his mother
observed--he was "certain to break out about every so often, no matter
what happened!"

"I remember pretty much everything," he said, as if in modest
explanation of the performance which had excited the aged man's
admiration. "I can remember things that happened when I was four years
old."

"So can I," said Jane. "I can remember when I was two. I had a kitten
fell down the cistern and papa said it hurt the water."

"My goo'ness!" Mr. Genesis exclaimed. "An' you 'uz on'y two year ole,
honey! Bes' _I_ kin do is rickalect when I 'uz 'bout fifty."

"Oh no!" Jane protested. "You said you remembered havin' a baby when you
were seventeen, Mr. Genesis."

"Yes'm," he admitted. "I mean rickalect good like you do 'bout yo' li'l'
cat an' all how yo' pappy tuck on 'bout it. I kin rickalect SOME, but I
cain' rickalect GOOD."

William coughed with a certain importance. "Do you remember," he asked,
"when you were married, how did you feel about it? Were you kind of
nervous, or anything like that, beforehand?"

Mr. Genesis again passed a wavering hand across his troubled brow.

"I mean," said William, observing his perplexity, "were you sort of
shaky--f'rinstance, as if you were taking an important step in life?"

"Lemme see." The old man pondered for a moment. "I felt mighty shaky
once, I rickalect; dat time yalla m'latta man shootin' at me f 'um
behime a snake-fence."

"Shootin' at you!" Jane cried, stirred from her accustomed placidity.
"Mr. Genesis! What DID he do that for?"

"Nuff'm!" replied Mr. Genesis, with feeling. "Nuff'm in de wide worl'!
He boun' to shoot SOMEbody, an' pick on me 'cause I 'uz de handies'."

He closed his knife, gave the little boat a final scrape with the broken
glass, and then a soothing rub with the palm of his hand. "Dah, honey,"
he said--and simultaneously factory whistles began to blow. "Dah
yo' li'l' steamboat good as I kin git her widout no b'iler ner no
smokestack. I reckon yo' pappy 'll buy 'em fer you."

Jane was grateful. "It's a beautiful boat, Mr. Genesis. I do thank you!"

Genesis, the son, laid aside his tools and approached. "Pappy finish
whittlin' spang on 'em noon whistles," he chuckled. "Come 'long, pappy.
I bet you wal