“Go to school.” The girl laughed. “Why now’s the time to go to school, before you grow up. You can’t go afterwards.” “Can’t I?” the boy asked anxiously, “I ain’t got time now.” “Haven’t you been to school at all?” “Six weeks when I were ten, and four weeks when I were eight.” “That’s all?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Then you can’t read?” “I’s feared I’s forgot. I can print some.” Hazel thought a moment, and then said, “Would you like me to teach you, Scip? I’m not busy. I don’t have anything that I _have_ to do except make my bed, and of course I help Granny with the dishes and ironing. I can iron nicely now, and I can spin, too. But I could teach you any time you would come. I have books.” Scipio dug a stick in the ground and scattered the pine-cones. “I ain’t smart,” he muttered. “I’s feared you couldn’t learn me.” “I’ll try,” Hazel answered. “I’m a young teacher, don’t you think, Scip?” She jumped up and laughed. “You must do everything I say. Let’s begin now. I’ll go and get my books.” She ran down the hill, her blue dress blowing in the wind, her small head gaily erect. “Like a blue-bird,” Scipio thought. She came back in a few minutes, her hands full. “I’ve pencil and paper,” she called. “Scip, can’t we find a nice place to keep school in?” “There’s a green spot a way up,” the boy replied. “You might like it.” He led her among the trees to a little enclosure. Small pines, not more than six feet high, made a natural hedge, and shut them out from the road below. “How pretty,” cried Hazel. “It’s like a little house. Here, take the books, Scip, and I’ll decide what to do.” He obediently held the books for her. As she looked about among the pines a new idea came to her. “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. “And the next one, Scip?” “B.” And so on. I and J proved stumbling blocks, but once passed the end was reached without further mistake. “Now words,” said Hazel, turning from the alphabet, “are letters put together. Can you spell any words?” “I can print my name.” “Please do, then.”