extraordinarily rapid growth, and all that remained was for Zaddie every day to ascertain that the grove of trees had gained another inch or so in the night.
After a little exchange with Zaddie on the progress of the trees, Oscar would turn to his cousin Grace, and remark something like, “I heard at the barbershop this morning that you and your little friends tied up your teacher and threw her off the top of the school auditorium. Was this true?”
“No!” Grace would cry indignantly.
“How you, Miss Elinor?” Oscar asked then, turning to her as if he had come across the yard expressly to speak to Zaddie and Grace, and now that he had done so, was free to see who else was about. “How were your Indians today?”
Oscar referred to all the students of the grammar school as “Indians.”
“My Indians kept me hopping,” said Elinor with a smile. “It’s my boys, though. My girls would do anything for me. Take a seat, Mr. Oscar. You look tired on your feet.”
“I am, I am,” said Oscar, taking the rocking chair next to hers, quite as if she hadn’t made the same invitation, and he accepted it, every day for the past two weeks.
“Your mama,” said Elinor, “is peering at us through the camellia bushes.”
Oscar stood out of his chair and called out, “Hey, Mama!”
Mary-Love, discovered, stepped from behind the cover of camellias.
“Oscar, I thought that was you!” she called from the porch.
“Didn’t you see the car, Mama?” he called out. He looked down at Miss Elinor. “She saw the car,” he said, in a voice his mother couldn’t hear.
“Tell her to come over here and sit with us,” said Elinor.
“Mama! Miss Elinor says come over here and sit awhile!”
“Tell Miss Elinor thank you, but I’ve got peas to shell!”
“She doesn’t!” cried Zaddie indignantly to Grace. “I shelled ever’ one of them peas this morning!”
“Tell your mama,” said Elinor politely, though she had certainly heard Zaddie’s contention that Mary-Love’s excuse was empty, “that if she’ll come over here, Zaddie and I will help her with her shelling.”
“All right, Mama!” cried out Oscar, not bothering to perpetuate the deception by straining his voice. He sat down again. He smiled at Elinor. “Mama does not want me over here,” he remarked.
“Why not?” demanded Grace, as she watched Mary-Love disappear behind the camellias again.
“Because of me,” said Elinor.
“Because of you?” cried Grace, not even beginning to comprehend how anyone could object to Miss Elinor.
“Miss Mary-Love thinks Mr. Oscar should be sitting on her front porch talking to her, and not sitting on this front porch talking to you and me and Zaddie.”
“Then why doesn’t she come over here? We invited her.”
Oscar sighed. “Let it be, Grace.”
“Mr. Oscar,” said Zaddie, turning around, “I shelled them peas this morning.”
“I know it, Zaddie. Now you and Grace sit still for a while.”
Grace and Zaddie leaned their heads together and began whispering.
“Your boys are giving you trouble?” Oscar asked.
“They’ll settle down next month. Right now half of them are out with the cotton harvest and the other half wish they were. I can’t get them to wear shoes, and I have to check them for ringworm every morning before recess.”
“They listen to you, don’t they?”
“I make them listen,” laughed Elinor. “I tell them that if they don’t listen to me, I’m going to take them out in Bray’s boat and drop them off at the junction. That makes them sit up straight. But I don’t have any trouble with my girls.”
Miss Elinor had thirty-four students, eighteen boys and sixteen girls. Twenty lived in town and fourteen in the surrounding countryside. Of the fourteen from the country, twelve had been kept home for the past few weeks to help with the harvest. The remaining two were silent little Indian girls whose mother and father operated five stills in the piney woods over on Little
After a little exchange with Zaddie on the progress of the trees, Oscar would turn to his cousin Grace, and remark something like, “I heard at the barbershop this morning that you and your little friends tied up your teacher and threw her off the top of the school auditorium. Was this true?”
“No!” Grace would cry indignantly.
“How you, Miss Elinor?” Oscar asked then, turning to her as if he had come across the yard expressly to speak to Zaddie and Grace, and now that he had done so, was free to see who else was about. “How were your Indians today?”
Oscar referred to all the students of the grammar school as “Indians.”
“My Indians kept me hopping,” said Elinor with a smile. “It’s my boys, though. My girls would do anything for me. Take a seat, Mr. Oscar. You look tired on your feet.”
“I am, I am,” said Oscar, taking the rocking chair next to hers, quite as if she hadn’t made the same invitation, and he accepted it, every day for the past two weeks.
“Your mama,” said Elinor, “is peering at us through the camellia bushes.”
Oscar stood out of his chair and called out, “Hey, Mama!”
Mary-Love, discovered, stepped from behind the cover of camellias.
“Oscar, I thought that was you!” she called from the porch.
“Didn’t you see the car, Mama?” he called out. He looked down at Miss Elinor. “She saw the car,” he said, in a voice his mother couldn’t hear.
“Tell her to come over here and sit with us,” said Elinor.
“Mama! Miss Elinor says come over here and sit awhile!”
“Tell Miss Elinor thank you, but I’ve got peas to shell!”
“She doesn’t!” cried Zaddie indignantly to Grace. “I shelled ever’ one of them peas this morning!”
“Tell your mama,” said Elinor politely, though she had certainly heard Zaddie’s contention that Mary-Love’s excuse was empty, “that if she’ll come over here, Zaddie and I will help her with her shelling.”
“All right, Mama!” cried out Oscar, not bothering to perpetuate the deception by straining his voice. He sat down again. He smiled at Elinor. “Mama does not want me over here,” he remarked.
“Why not?” demanded Grace, as she watched Mary-Love disappear behind the camellias again.
“Because of me,” said Elinor.
“Because of you?” cried Grace, not even beginning to comprehend how anyone could object to Miss Elinor.
“Miss Mary-Love thinks Mr. Oscar should be sitting on her front porch talking to her, and not sitting on this front porch talking to you and me and Zaddie.”
“Then why doesn’t she come over here? We invited her.”
Oscar sighed. “Let it be, Grace.”
“Mr. Oscar,” said Zaddie, turning around, “I shelled them peas this morning.”
“I know it, Zaddie. Now you and Grace sit still for a while.”
Grace and Zaddie leaned their heads together and began whispering.
“Your boys are giving you trouble?” Oscar asked.
“They’ll settle down next month. Right now half of them are out with the cotton harvest and the other half wish they were. I can’t get them to wear shoes, and I have to check them for ringworm every morning before recess.”
“They listen to you, don’t they?”
“I make them listen,” laughed Elinor. “I tell them that if they don’t listen to me, I’m going to take them out in Bray’s boat and drop them off at the junction. That makes them sit up straight. But I don’t have any trouble with my girls.”
Miss Elinor had thirty-four students, eighteen boys and sixteen girls. Twenty lived in town and fourteen in the surrounding countryside. Of the fourteen from the country, twelve had been kept home for the past few weeks to help with the harvest. The remaining two were silent little Indian girls whose mother and father operated five stills in the piney woods over on Little
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