Papa started smoothing out the leaves of my dress. I didn't care about the dress any more! I grabbed him around the knees, begged him to sit down and take me up in his lap.
"No, no, Bandershanks! You go on and finish what Aunt Vic wants you to do. Pass the hat and then let her pin on the little presents. You're a walking Christmas tree! Remember? And trees don't cry! Now, scoot!"
I scooted! From one side of the church to the other, I ran back and forth in front of each bench. And every person I passed dropped money into Papa's ragged old hat: pennies, or one or two nickels, or a dime, or two bits. By the time I came to the back pews, the bottom of the hat was sagging down. As Uncle Dan and the other men started tossing in four-bit pieces, it got heavier and heavier. The last people I came to were Mister Wes and Miss Lida Belle.
"You sure recited a nice little piece, hon," Miss Lida Belle told me as I squeezed my way between her thick knees and the bench behind me. She didn't drop any money in the hat, but as soon as she turned her head the other way, Mister Wes slipped in a whole silver dollar!
Leaning over close to me, he whispered, "Little lady, you see the pretty blue tie up yonder on the tree?"
"Yes, sir."
"I bet you, if you ask her, Miss Vic will fasten that fine tie on you and let you take it straight to the schoolteacher!"
Aunt Vic stopped calling out names long enough to pin the tie on my shoulder.
"Hurry right back, hon," she told me. "There are more presents for you to take."
"Where's Mister Shepherd at?"