“Lina and Frances and James!” exclaimed his aunt. “What do you know about them, William?”
The child's face flushed. “I seen 'em this mornin',” he acknowledged.
Miss Minerva put a hand on either shoulder der and looked straight into his eyes.
“William, who started that sprinkling this morning?” she questioned, sharply.
Billy flushed guiltily and lowered his eyelids; but only for an instant. Quickly recovering his composure he returned her gaze steadily and ignored her question.
“I see yo' beau too, Aunt Minerva,” he remarked tranquilly.
It was Miss Minerva this time who lost her composure, for her thin, sallow face became perfectly crimson.
“My beau?” she asked confusedly. “Who put that nonsense into your head?”
“Jimmy show him to me,” he replied jauntily, once more master of the situation and in full realization of the fact. “Why don't you marry him, Aunt Minerva, so's he could live right here with us? An' I could learn him how to churn. I s'pec' he 'd make a beautiful churner. He sho' is a pretty little fat man,” he continued flatteringly. “An' dress? That beau was jest dressed plumb up to the top notch. I sho' would marry him if I's you an' not turn up my nose at him 'cause he wears pants, an' you can learn him how to talk properer'n what he do an' I betcher he'd jest nachelly take to a broom, an' I s'pec' he ain't got nobody 'tall to show him how to sew. An' y' all could get the doctor to fetch you a little baby so he wouldn't hafter play with no doll. I sho' wisht we had him here,” ended a selfish Billy, “he could save me a lot of steps. An' I sho' would like to hear 'bout all them Injuns an' Yankees what he's killed.”
Billy's aunt was visibly embarrassed.