ach in th'
young ladies' educationals, an' Miss Cahline she still theah waitin' fo'
me. Yes, seh, sh' ain't doin' nothin' but livin' on huh secon' cousin
an' he ain' got nothin'--an' Ah lay Ah ain't go'n' a' have _that_ kind
a' doin's. No, seh--a-livin' on Cunnel Looshe Peavey. Ah'm go'n' a' git
huh yeh whah she kin be independent--"

Again he stopped to see visions.

"An' then, afteh a tehible shawt while, Ah git Little Miss fum the
educationals an' they _both_ be independent. Yes, seh, Ah'm gittin' th'
money--reglah gole money--none a' this yeh Vaginyah papah-rags money. Ah
ain't stahted good when Ah come, but Ah wagah ten hund'ed thousan'
dollehs Ah finish up good!"

The last was a pointed reference to the Colonel.

"Have you seen Colonel Potts lately?" I asked. Clem sniffed.

"Yes, seh, on that tavehn cohnah, a-settin' on a cheer an' a-chestin'
out his chest lahk a ole ma'ash frawg. 'Peahs like the man ain't got
hawg sense, ack'in' that a-way."

A concluding sniff left it plain that Potts had been put beyond the pale
of gentility by Clem.

He left me then to do his work in the kitchen--left me back on a
battle-field, lying hurt beside an officer from his land who tried
weakly to stanch a wound in his side as he addressed me.

"A hot charge, sir--but we rallied--hear that yell from our men behind
the woods. You can't beat us. We needn't be told that. Whatever God is,
he's at least a gentleman, above practical jokes of that sort." He
groaned as the blood oozed anew from his side, then pleaded with me to
help him find the picture--to look under him and all about on the
ground. Long I mused upon this, but at last my pipe was out, and I awoke
from that troubled spot where God's little creatures had clashed in
their puny rage--awoke to know that this was my day to wander in another
world--the dream world of children, where everything is true that ought
to be true.

CHAPTER VII

"A WORLD OF FINE FABLING"

Solon Denney's home, in charge of Mrs. Delia Sullivan, late of Kerry,
was four blocks up the shaded street from my own. Within one block of
its gate as I approached it that morning, the Sabbath calm was riven by
shouts that led me to the back of the house. In the yard next to
Solon's, Tobin Crowder, of Crowder & Fancett, Lumber, Coal and Building
Supplies, had left a magnificent green wagon-box flat upon the ground, a
thing so fine that it was almost a game of itself. An imagination of
even the seco