study for a young
and immature mind."

Tant Sannie did not understand a word, and said:

"What?"

"This book," said Bonaparte, bringing down his finger with energy on the
cover, "this book is sleg, sleg, Davel, Davel!"

Tant Sannie perceived from the gravity of his countenance that it was no
laughing matter. From the words "sleg" and "Davel" she understood that
the book was evil, and had some connection with the prince who pulls the
wires of evil over the whole earth.

"Where did you get this book?" she asked, turning her twinkling little
eyes on Waldo. "I wish that my legs may be as thin as an Englishman's if
it isn't one of your father's. He had more sins than all the Kaffers in
Kafferland, for all that he pretended to be so good all those years, and
to live without a wife because he was thinking of the one that was dead!
As though ten dead wives could make up for one fat one with arms and
legs!" cried Tant Sannie, snorting.

"It was not my father's book," said the boy savagely. "I got it from
your loft."

"My loft! my book! How dare you?" cried Tant Sannie.

"It was Em's father's. She gave it me," he muttered more sullenly.

"Give it here. What is the name of it? What is it about?" she asked,
putting her finger upon the title.

Bonaparte understood.

"Political Economy," he said slowly.

"Dear Lord!" said Tant Sannie, "cannot one hear from the very sound
what an ungodly book it is! One can hardly say the name. Haven't we got
curses enough on this farm?" cried Tant Sannie, eloquently; "my best
imported Merino ram dying of nobody knows what, and the short-horn cow
casting her two calves, and the sheep eaten up with the scab and the
drought? And is this a time to bring ungodly things about the place, to
call down the vengeance of Almighty God to punish us more? Didn't the
minister tell me when I was confirmed not to read any book except my
Bible and hymn-book, that the devil was in all the rest? And I never
have read any other book," said Tant Sannie with virtuous energy, "and I
never will!"

Waldo saw that the fate of his book was sealed, and turned sullenly on
his heel.

"So you will not stay to hear what I say!" cried Tant Sannie. "There,
take your Polity-gollity-gominy, your devil's book!" she cried, flinging
the book at his head with much energy.

It merely touched his forehead on one side and fell to the ground.

"Go on," she cried; "I know you are going to talk to yourself. People
who talk