minutes; then Nucky quietly
flung an end of the sheet across to Killis, with the words, "There, son,
take-a-holt of that kiver, and le's lay it straight!"

To my great relief, I heard Keats singing a more cheerful song at his
work to-day:

Wisht I was a little turkle-dove,
Setting on a limb so high.
I'd take my darling on my knee
And bid this world goodbye!

and at dinner, by actual count, he ate nine corn-dodgers, three helpings
of string-beans, four sweet-potatoes and I know not how much sorghum.

He still sits with me in the evenings, and I feel now that I have always
known Nervesty and the four small children at home, especially Sammy the
baby, not to mention Charlie, the "flea-bit" nag, Ole Suke, the "pied"
cow, with her twin sons the steers Buck and Brandy, and her daughter
Reddy the heifer (now the proud possessor of a little "pied" calf and a
"blind" teat), also the big black sow, Julia, who, true to mountain
traditions, never has less than nine in her family, and above all the
wonderful dog, Ponto, who appears to be all that a dog can, and more.
And not infrequently during these talks Keats is called out to help
fight some antagonist of Hen's (though there is often civil war between
the brothers, they always combine against outside aggression); and at
other times Hen will pause breathless on his swift way through house or
yard to corroborate some statement of Keats's with, "Gee, woman, that
'ere's a dandy of a dog! He can do anything but climb a tree, and he
gits half-way up them. He rounds up the shoats and drives up Ole Suke
and the steers gooder than I can; and possums! groundhogs! polecats! dad
burn my looks if he haint the beatenest ever you seed!"

_Friday._

I have tried all along to respect Jason's feelings, and give him jobs
which would injure neither his pride nor his person. But yesterday while
we were spading up a patch for turnip-and-mustard-greens, I forgot and
sent him off to the school-yard to pick up trash. An hour later, I heard
from a passer-by that he had been seen a mile up Perilous. "Don't you
recollect him a-saying he would leave if you give him little-boy jobs?"
Geordie reminded me.

"Saddle the nag and hurry after him," I implored Taulbee. Sometime
later, he overtook the proud child on his way to Spraddle Creek, and
brought him back under protest.

The boys say they see no good reason why they should say "yes ma'am" and
"no ma'am." When I told them it w