“No, it just ain’t. That is, y’see, I ain’t grumbling,” Scipio went on hurriedly, lest his meaning should be mistaken. “If you’re stuck on kiddies, like me, it don’t worry you nuthin’. Kind of makes it pleasant thinkin’ how you can fix things fer ’em, don’t it? But it sure ain’t easy doing things just right. That’s how I mean. An’ don’t it make you feel good when you do fix things right fer ’em? But I don’t guess that comes often, though,” he added, with a sigh. “Y’see, I’m kind of awkward. I ain’t smart, like you or Bill.”
“Oh, Bill’s real smart,” Sunny began. Then he checked himself. He was to keep Bill’s name out of this matter, and he just remembered it in time. So he veered round quickly. “But I ain’t smart,” he declared. “Anything I know I got from a leddy friend. Y’see, women-folk knows a heap ’bout kiddies, which, I ’lows, is kind o’ natural.”
He fumbled in his pocket and drew out several sheets of paper. Arranging them carefully, he scanned the scrawling writing on them.
“Guess you’re a scholar, so I won’t need to read what I writ down here. Mebbe you’ll be able to read it yourself. I sure ’low the spellin’ ain’t jest right, but you’ll likely understand it. Y’see, the writin’s clear, which is the chief thing. I was allus smart with a pen. Now, this yer is jest how our––my––leddy frien’ reckons kids needs fixin’. It ain’t reasonable to guess everything’s down ther’. They’re jest sort o’ principles which you need to foller. Maybe they’ll help you some. Guess if you foller them reg’lations your kids’ll sure grow proper.”
He handed the papers across, and Scipio took them only too willingly. His thanks, his delight, was in the sudden lighting up of his whole face. But he did not offer a verbal expression of his feelings until he had read down the first page. Then he looked up with eyes that were almost moist with gratitude.
“Say,” he began, “I can’t never tell you how ’bliged I am, Sunny. These things have bothered me a whole heap. It’s kind of you, Sunny, it is, sure. I’m that obliged I––”
“Say,” broke in the loafer, “that sort o’ talk sort o’ worrits my brain. Cut it out.” Then he grinned. “Y’see, I ain’t used to thinkin’ hard. It’s mostly in the natur’ o’ work, an’––well, work an’ me ain’t been friends for years.”
But Scipio was devouring the elaborated information Sunny had so laboriously set out. The loafer’s picturesque mind had drawn heavily on its resources, and Birdie’s principles had undergone a queer metamorphosis. So much so, that she would now have had difficulty in recognizing them. Sunny watched him reading with smiling interest. He was looking for those lights and shades which he hoped his illuminating phraseology would inspire. But Scipio was in deadly earnest. Phraseology meant nothing to him. It was the guidance he was looking for and devouring hungrily. At last he looked up, his pale eyes glowing.
“That’s fine,” he exclaimed, with such a wonderful relief that it was impossible to doubt his appreciation. Then he glanced round the room. He found some pins and promptly pinned the sheets on the cupboard door. Then he stood back and surveyed them. “You’re a good friend, Sunny,” he said earnestly. “Now I can’t never make a mistake. There it is all wrote ther’. An’ when I ain’t sure ’bout nothing, why, I only jest got to read what you wrote. I don’t guess the kiddies can reach them there. Y’see, kiddies is queer ’bout things. Likely they’d get busy tearing those sheets right up, an’ then wher’d I be? I’ll start right in now on those reg’lations, an’ you’ll see how proper the kiddies’ll grow.” He turned and held out his hand to his benefactor. “I’m ’bliged, Sunny; I sure can’t never thank you enough.”
Sunny disclaimed such a profusion of gratitude, but his dirty face shone with good-natured satisfaction as he gripped the little man’s hand. And after discussing a few details and offering a few suggestions, which, since the acceptance of his efforts, seemed to trip off his tongue with an easy confidence which surprised even himself, he took his departure. And he left the hut with the final picture of Scipio, still studying his pages of regulations with the earnestness of a divinity student studying his Bible, filling his strongly imaginative brain. He felt good. He felt so good that he was sorry there was nothing more to be done until Wild Bill’s return.