“I never put hot water in my milk,” said she, “it makes the butter puffy. Work more and talk less, William.” Again there was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of the dasher thumping against the bottom of the churn, and the rattle of the dishes. “I sho' is tired,” he presently remarked, heaving a deep sigh. “My arms is 'bout give out, Aunt Minerva. Ole Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline see a man churn with his toes; lemme git a chair an' see if I can't churn with my toes.” “Indeed you shall not,” responded his annoyed relative positively. “Sanctified Sophy knowed a colored 'oman what had a little dog went roun' an' roun' an' churn fer her,” remarked Billy after a short pause. “If you had a billy goat or a little nanny I could hitch him to the churn fer you ev'ry day.” “William,” commanded his aunt, “don't say another word until you have finished your work.” “Can't I sing?” he asked. She nodded permission as she went through the open door into the dining-room. Returning a few minutes later she found him sitting astride the churn, using the dasher so vigorously that buttermilk was splashing in every direction, and singing in a clear, sweet voice: “He'll feed you when you's naked, The orphan stear he'll dry, He'll clothe you when you's hongry An' take you when you die.” Miss Minerva jerked him off with no gentle hand. “What I done now?” asked the boy innocently, “'tain't no harm as I can see jes' to straddle a churn.” “Go out in the front yard,” commanded his aunt, “and sit in the swing till I call you. I'll finish the work without your assistance. And, William,” she called after him, “there is a very bad little boy who lives next door; I want you to have as little to do with him as possible.” CHAPTER IV SWEETHEART AND PARTNER Billy was sitting quietly in the big lawn-swing when his aunt, dressed for the street, finally came through the front door. “I am going up-town, William,” she said, “I want to buy you some things that you may go with me to church Sunday. Have you ever been to Sunday-School?” “Naw 'm; but I been to pertracted meetin',” came the ready response, “I see Sanctified Sophy shout tell she tore ev'y rag offer her back 'ceptin' a shimmy. She's one 'oman what sho' is got 'ligion; she ain't never backslid 't all, an' she ain't never fell f'om grace but one time--” “Stay right in the yard till I come back. Sit in the swing and don't go outside the front yard. I shan't be gone long,” said Miss Minerva. His aunt had hardly left the gate before Billy caught sight of a round, fat little face peering at him through the palings which separated Miss Minerva's yard from that of her next-door neighbor. “Hello!” shouted Billy. “Is you the bad little boy what can't play with me?” “What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?” came the answering interrogation across the fence. “I's come to live with her,” replied Billy. “My mama an' papa is dead. What's yo' name?”