“What I want with a doll?” he asked angrily, “I ain't no girl.” “I think every little boy should have a doll and learn to make clothes for it,” said Miss Minerva. “I don't want you to be a great, rough boy; I want you to be sweet and gentle like a little girl; I am going to teach you how to sew and cook and sweep, so you may grow up a comfort to me.” This was a gloomy forecast for the little boy accustomed, as he had been, to the freedom of a big plantation, and he scowled darkly. “Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hafter play with no dolls sence we's born,” he replied sullenly, “we goes in swimmin' an' plays baseball. I can knock a home-run an' pitch a curve an' ketch a fly. Why don't you gimme a baseball bat? I already got a ball what Admiral Farragut gimme. An' I ain't agoin' to be no sissy neither. Lina an' Frances plays dolls, me an' Jimmy--” he stopped in sudden confusion. “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. The persistent admiration of this, her one lover, had been pleasing to her, yet she had never been willing to sacrifice her independence for the cares and trials of matrimony. The existing state of affairs between the two was known to every one in the small town, but such was Miss Minerva's dignified aloofness that Billy was the first person who had ever dared to broach the subject to her.