“We won’t call it school,” she declared. “We’ll play house. You and I will be brother and sister. We’ll play that I’ve had advantages, I’ve been North to school, and now I’ve come home. This will be our house and this,” tapping with her foot, “will be the parlor. We’ll sit down here and I’ll teach you.”
She took the books and papers from his hands and placed them on the ground. “I can sit down and lean against this tree and pretend I’m in a chair. Here is the paper and pencil. I haven’t a primer so I’ll start and print the letters. Sit down, Scip.”
He seated himself beside her.
“Do you know your alphabet?” she asked.
“I don’t rightly know whether I remember it all, ma’am.”
“You mustn’t say ma’am to me, I’m your sister.”
“No, ma’am.”
Hazel laughed. “You’re so funny, Scip. Now do you know what that letter is?” pointing to the first on his paper.
“Yes, Sister. That’s A.”
The little girl almost jumped at her new name. She did not know how common the appellation was in the South.