But the old darky intervened. “Some folks got good rickaleckshum an' some folks got bad,” he said, pacifically. “Young white germmun rickalect mo' in two minute dan what I kin in two years!” Jane appeared to accept this as settlement of the point at issue, while William bestowed upon Mr. Genesis a glance of increased favor. William's expression was pleasant to see; in fact, it was the pleasantest expression Jane had seen him wearing for several days. Almost always, lately, he was profoundly preoccupied, and so easily annoyed that there was no need to be careful of his feelings, because--as his mother observed--he was “certain to break out about every so often, no matter what happened!” “I remember pretty much everything,” he said, as if in modest explanation of the performance which had excited the aged man's admiration. “I can remember things that happened when I was four years old.” “So can I,” said Jane. “I can remember when I was two. I had a kitten fell down the cistern and papa said it hurt the water.” “My goo'ness!” Mr. Genesis exclaimed. “An' you 'uz on'y two year ole, honey! Bes' _I_ kin do is rickalect when I 'uz 'bout fifty.” “Oh no!” Jane protested. “You said you remembered havin' a baby when you were seventeen, Mr. Genesis.” “Yes'm,” he admitted. “I mean rickalect good like you do 'bout yo' li'l' cat an' all how yo' pappy tuck on 'bout it. I kin rickalect SOME, but I cain' rickalect GOOD.” William coughed with a certain importance. “Do you remember,” he asked, “when you were married, how did you feel about it? Were you kind of nervous, or anything like that, beforehand?” Mr. Genesis again passed a wavering hand across his troubled brow. “I mean,” said William, observing his perplexity, “were you sort of shaky--f'rinstance, as if you were taking an important step in life?” “Lemme see.” The old man pondered for a moment. “I felt mighty shaky once, I rickalect; dat time yalla m'latta man shootin' at me f 'um behime a snake-fence.” “Shootin' at you!” Jane cried, stirred from her accustomed placidity. “Mr. Genesis! What DID he do that for?” “Nuff'm!” replied Mr. Genesis, with feeling. “Nuff'm in de wide worl'! He boun' to shoot SOMEbody, an' pick on me 'cause I 'uz de handies'.” He closed his knife, gave the little boat a final scrape with the broken glass, and then a soothing rub with the palm of his hand. “Dah, honey,” he said--and simultaneously factory whistles began to blow. “Dah yo' li'l' steamboat good as I kin git her widout no b'iler ner no smokestack. I reckon yo' pappy 'll buy 'em fer you.” Jane was grateful. “It's a beautiful boat, Mr. Genesis. I do thank you!” Genesis, the son, laid aside his tools and approached. “Pappy finish whittlin' spang on 'em noon whistles,” he chuckled. “Come 'long, pappy. I bet you walk fas' 'nuff goin' todes dinnuh. I hear fry-cakes ploppin' in skillet!”