an sounded her signal for Uncle Billy. So they
sat watching the house across the road.

"Now it's time!" cried Bud excitedly. "I see Aunt Susan goin' around the
end of the house with her spoon."

An old cross-cut saw hung by one handle from a peg in the stick chimney.
As she beat upon it now with a long, rusty iron spoon, the din that
filled the surrounding air was worse than any made by the noisiest gong
ever beaten before a railroad restaurant. Uncle Billy, hoeing in a
distant field, gave an answering whoop, and waved his old hat.

The children raced into the house and tore the newspaper from the table.
Under it were three cold boiled potatoes, a dish of salt, a cup of
molasses, and a big pone of corn-bread. As head of the family, John Jay
divided everything but the salt exactly into thirds, and wasted no time
in ceremonies before beginning. As soon as the last crumb was finished
he spread an old quilt in front of the fireplace, where the embers,
though covered deep in ashes, still kept the hearth warm.

No coaxing was needed to induce Ivy to lie down. Even if she had not
been tired and sleepy she would have obeyed. John Jay's word was law in
his grandmother's absence. Then he sat down on the doorstep and waited
for her to go to sleep.

"If she wakes up and gets out on the road while we're gone, won't I
catch it, though!" he exclaimed to Bud in an undertone.

"Shet the doah," suggested Bud.

"No, she'd sut'n'ly get into some devilmint if she was shet in by
herself," he answered.

"How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!" John
Jay's roving eyes fell on a broken teacup on the window-sill, that Mammy
kept as a catch-all for stray buttons and bits of twine. He remembered
having seen some rusty tacks among the odds and ends. A loose brickbat
stuck up suggestively from the sunken hearth. The idea had not much
sooner popped into his head than the deed was done. Bending over
breathlessly to make sure that the unsuspecting Ivy was asleep, he
nailed her little pink dress to the floor with a row of rusty tacks.
Then cautiously replacing the bit of broken brick, he made for the door,
upsetting Bud in his hasty leave-taking.

Over in the briar-patch, out of sight of the house, two happy little
darkeys played all the afternoon. They beat the ground with the stout
clubs they carried. They pried up logs in search of snakes. They
whooped, they sang, they whistled. They rolled over and over each
othe